Babies Fuck AIDS Away!

Warning: This may be the most evil thing I've ever written.

Health officials have declared that they are very close to erradicating AIDS in babies. This is good news, especially for women with very AIDS-y vaginas and babies with intravenous drug habits.

A spokesman for all of the doctors in the world says, "We've decided that we don't want babies to fuck each other anymore. And if they do, we'll make sure that they use the newly-released Baby Condoms by Trojan."

It turns out that babies were literally fucking the shit out of each other. This is why babies have to wear diapers. People used to think that incontinence was a result of just being a baby and learning to control one's bowels, but it turns out that babies love to screw so much that they shit themselves.

When the spokesman, Gene Eric Spokesmanerson, was asked about babies having sex with monkeys or grown people, he could only hint at future initiatives. "We're working hard on discouraging babies from having sex with monkeys and grown people by starting to educate them early. There's a new rule that should take effect in 2006 where OBGYNs are obligated to scream at a pregnant woman's stomach, even if they're just walking down the street and not a patient, and say, 'Don't you go fucking AIDS monkeys or adults or even pencil sharpeners that look very HIV-y.' Then they're supposed to punch the woman in the stomach or, if they're wearing heavy shoes--like steel-toed, or something with a heel--they must kick the stomach. See, they're not attacking the woman, but scaring the baby. Everybody knows that the best way to educate people--especially babies, who aren't actually people, but, and very few people know this, 75 percent seahorse until the ninth month--about anything is not to tell them the facts, but to scare them so badly that they are born retarded. That way, the only thing that touches their private parts is themselves or the occasional bowl of Jell-O. And Jell-O has made a commitment to become AIDS-free by the end of the year. Thanks, Bill Cosby."

That was a long quote to use, but I feel like everything he said was important and completely real.

Enough about babies fucking each other or pigs or whatever, let me tell you about a dream I had.

A few days ago I took a nap in the middle of the day because it's hard work to be unemployed and basking in your own ass-stink for days on end. Well, I had a real quick dream that shows just how insightful the human mind really is.

As all my loyal readers know (which I'll get to at the end), I hate organized religion. Well, apparently my mind must read my weblog because it knows that as well. I hate the commercialization of things like the Harvest Crusade and my brain thought it would be fun to satirically comment on this. In my quick dream, I was going to the Vatican, probably to poop in the Pope's hat or something, but it wasn't called the Vatican. No. It was the Duncan Hines "Long Lasting" Church. The church had become like the goddamn Staples Center of religion but without all the heterosexual rape allegations. Now I'm positive that I must be from the future. In my world, the church is sponsored by food companies and the government is run by Phil Jackson who makes Senators run suicides if they get mouthy and try that filibuster bullshit. Not on his watch. He's going for a tenth presidency, he can't have that kind of nonsense going on.

Tonight I was accosted on the telephone by some people who read my website. I don't know how they got my number, but they did and they insisted that I give them "shout-outs." Now, I fucking hate the shout-out. The entire idea of a shout-out makes my penis want to fistfight people in the faces. I mean, "Hi Mom," is one thing, but, "I want to give a shout-out to my moms, Uncle Chicklet, Toof-Toof, my car battery, Grover, book, gravity, and C. Thomas Howell," is so goddamn inane that I want so badly to be like that kid in the Twilight Zone episode that could wish people away.

That being said, Brian, Paul, I hope you are killed when a homeless man rapes you both so hard that the amount of blood lost through your monstrously stretched-out sphincters is enough to fill up one of those plastic children's pools.

Interesting thought of the day:
If you ever meet a psychic, punch them in the face and when they ask why'd you do that, don't say, "You should have seen it coming," that's cliche. Instead, say, "Because I fucked your dead grandfather."