I'm a Horrible Bastard!

Christopher Reeve, star of such films as Village of the Damned and Anna Karenina, was killed today when he was finally paralyzed to death.

He died while in a coma from a heart attack that he had on the previous day. Man, comas are the new plane crash lately--they're kicking everybody's ass. First Barry White, Rodney Dangerfield, now Christopher Reeve. But, I think it was the heart attack that really did it. It's his own fault, too. He kept telling himself he would start running come January 1. Oh sweet irony.

His wife said in a statement, "I also want to thank his personal staff of nurses and aides, as well as the millions of fans from around the world who have supported and loved my husband over the years." This was followed by, "Whew! Who wants to go dancing? Jesus!" She then went running on uneven ground for two hours.

As everybody knows, Christopher Reeve was paralyzed in 1995 when he, in a drunken stupor, longing for his Superman days, tried to fly off the roof of his house. Once he realized he couldn't move anymore, he started a foundation that would research how to make really fast wheelchairs. He had hoped to get a wheelchair that could go fast enough so that he could reverse the earth's rotation so he could go back in time. Nobody had the heart to tell him that that only works in his movies so the charities persisted until today when all of the actors hired to pose as doctors can finally return to their normal lives.

On a serious note, I joke about it, but I really do feel bad that he died. Now who are people going to make fun of when they really want to stick it to those goddamn paraplegics? There's no paraplegic icon quite like ole Chris Reeve.

Also, in Friday night's debate, John Kerry mentioned how he was good friends with Christopher Reeve when they were discussing stem-cell research. You know that, come Wednesday's final debate, George W. Bush will use this against him.

"America, John Kerry says that he was good friends with Christopher Reeve, and now he is dead. All he had to do was mention his name and he died. Just by mentioning his name. Do you want him saying your name? So now I'm asking you, America, who would you rather have as your commander-in-chief? Me? Or old Deathbags Malone over there? I think you know the smart choice. Oh yeah. September Eleventh."

Friday morning at like 3:30 I woke up and I had three spider bites on my shoulder, two right near my left eyeball, and one on my ear. I'm fucking delicious. I'm not one of those people who are afraid of spiders, but if something bites the hell out of me while I'm asleep, I'm definitely not going to go back to sleep very soon. If a stillborn baby was in a room with me and I fell asleep only to wake up with fucking bite marks all over my body, I guarantee you I won't sleep in that room again until I'm positive that that bitey stillborn wasn't in there anymore. So, at 3:30 in the morning I took a shower, vacuumed the hell out of my room, and sprayed bug spray to the point of toxic chemical-induced dizziness. Goddamn spiders.

Interesting thought of the day:
Making fun of dead and/or paralyzed people really does make you feel better--no matter what people with "taste" actually say about it.

Debateylicious!

Beyonce will be performing that song, "Debateylicious," with P. Diddy's "Vote or Die" tour coming soon to a college campus near you.

The Vice-Presidential debate was tonight and, once again, I had class, so I taped the shit and watched it when I got home. I had a Spanish test tonight, too, that I rushed through because I knew that as soon as I was done I could go home and get to watching the debate. I really don't know why I don't have a girlfriend.

Dick Cheney was, on numerous occasions, a split second from shedding his human skin and materializing before everyone in his true form, as the cloven-hoofed Demonlord of the Underworld--but he didn't. I kept expecting John Edwards to turn his head to look at the audience for a moment, and turn back toward Dick Cheney who, in that split second, had managed to remove John Edwards's trachea with his mouth, his face covered in the blood of the pure North Carolina Senator. "It's like drinking the blood of Jesus and a baby seal," Cheney would say, half-surprised that the audience has reacted so negatively to his action.

Of course, I'm biased, so I think John Edwards won the debate because Dick Cheney kept repeating stuff that wasn't true or completely out of context. John Edwards had a lot of things to say (Haliburton, Saddam-9/11 connection) that Cheney couldn't even respond to. The coolest thing was that Cheney kept saying, "I don't know where to start," when talking about how he would rebut an Edwards statement. This is what's called, in debate terms, having nothing to say and buying time while you think.

Anyway, the woman who moderated the debate, the woman who also used to host Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, sucked. Her questions weren't anything special, but one of her questions was just retarded. She asked the candidates to answer without using their runningmate's name in the response. What kind of shitty-ass improv game was she trying to start? She may as well have said, "Okay, Vice-President Cheney, you're a genie and, Senator Edwards, you're a gas-station attendant. Also, you can only talk in questions. And, GO!"

It's like the kind of games I play with myself to make life more interesting. Like the game where I wake up in the middle of the night and have to go to the bathroom but I can't turn the light on. The game is to time myself to see how long it is from the time I start peeing, to the time it actually starts hitting water. Sometimes this can go on for minutes.

Quick answer to a question somebody had in the previous post: I used the Scooby Doo picture because I made a Scooby Doo reference ("...if it weren't for you pesky kids"). I'd never put a picture up without it having some sort of context.

Rodney Dangerfield died today. In anticipation of shitty news headlines everywhere, how many will use the word "Respect" in some form of another in the title? The answer: All of them. Fuck writers. I can't believe Rodney Dangerfield died. It seems like just yesterday he was IN A FUCKING COMA FOR WEEKS. Jesus, people. Quit acting like these things are such a surprise. Not since Pope John Paul's death in the upcoming month will the world be so surprised to hear of somebody struck down in the prime of their youth. Pope John Paul's death is more overdue than the copy of "God, Are You There? It's Me, Margaret" that I've had on my nightstand since I was 10.

Interesting thought of the day:
You can definitely get AIDS by eating a bottle of pills marked "AIDS pills--Don't Eat! We're not even sure why we make these!"

THEN I WILL THROW YOU OUT THE WINDOW!

In what's probably one of the best stories of the year, a retarded boy tried to murder his teacher by pushing her out of a window in Ohio. When his teacher wouldn't let him get out of the third floor window where another student had tossed a pencil by placing her body in the window frame, the boy said, "Then I will throw you out the window!" and proceeded to try to push her. I have a tough time believing this story because if a retarded kid wants to move something, he'll do it. They're strong like ants. I once saw a retarded child move an entire house because he saw a kitty crawl beneath it.

The X Prize has been won by Burt Rutan and Paul Allen. This is not the famous comedy duo of the early 1900's, Rutan and Allen, known for their hilarious Vaudeville routines about the turn of the century's newest fad, necrophilia. No, these are two rich guys who wanted to fly into space. They're like that guy from 'N Sync without all the sucking so hard. They won $10 million for being privately funded and getting a manned aircraft to fly into space two times within two weeks or something like that. Truth is, I'm too lazy to actually read exactly what it's about, but I know that there was a collective achieving of erections by dorks all around the world when this news was announced. Star Wars pillowcases everywhere were ruined in unison when the aftereffects of an intellectually-induced erection-turned-pillow-humping session were "realized" all over Boba Fett's jetpack.

The Vice-Presidential debates are going to be held tomorrow night in Cleveland. I think that John Edwards could easily win the debate if he plays the September Eleventh card. All he has to do is say to Cheney:

"Somebody's coming through, his name starts with a J. He says that he died in the Twin Towers on September Eleventh and it's all Dick Cheney and George W. Bush's fault. If they're re-elected, God says that everybody who died on September Eleventh will go to Hell. "

There would be nothing Cheney could say because John Edwards can totally talk to dead people. All Cheney does is smell like one. Interestingly enough, scientists have found exactly what that smell is. It's a combination of CamphoPhenique, Baby Powder, Polident, and old balls. It's mostly old balls. If they made an ingredients list, that would have to go first.

Finally, Mt. St. Helens is a big, fat liar and is never going to overflow and spill its warm, sugary goodness onto the lucky Washington residents below. People are under the misconception that the lava only kills, but, I'll tell you one thing, nobody's ever tried it on some Triple Dipple Fudge ice cream. It's like really hot fudge--that may kill you. I don't even think it's a real volcano, but, instead, somebody bought a lot of dry ice and took it to the top of a mountain in order to scare away all the townspeople so they could dig up some treasure that's supposed to be buried there. And he would have gotten away with it if it weren't for those pesky kids.


Excerpt from an old Rutan & Allen routine:

Rutan

Say, Allen, did ya hear about that new morgue that opened up down the block?

Allen

I sure did! It's called Pleasant Memories Mortuary, isn't it?

Rutan

That it is, old friend of friends! But they should call it Pleasant Mammaries! Yayaya!

(Music and a lot of stepping sideways quickly follow until music stops)

Allen

Wow, old chum. Who'd have thought that you like to make love to dead people?

Rutan

Make love? Who said anything about making love? The best thing about these dead dames is that they don't make you put a ring on their finger. Hell, I wouldn't even wear a condom if it weren't for all the maggots!

(More music and stepping sideways as the curtains close and the entire crowd begins to weep silently.)

Interesting thought of the day:
If you're walking next to people and you're taking up the entire width of the sidewalk, chances are there are people behind you wanting to pass your slow ass--SO FUCKING MOVE.*

*This message is brought to you by me and directed toward those slow whores moseying to class in front of me this morning.

Allah La La La Bamba!

This is a long and serious one. Brace yourselves.

One of my devoted readers, Whore, has asked on a couple of posts now, whether or not, when I said, "I pray to Allah every day..." if I was being serious. There's the short, direct answer, No. But that's no fun. So, I'll alienate probably close to everybody that reads this thing, but I'll explain why I don't pray to Allah or God or Vishnu or Zeus or whatever you believe in.

The comedian David Cross shares a lot of my sentiments in regards to religion, so if you want to hear somebody a lot funnier and a lot balder than I am explain this to you, get his CD, Shut Up You Fucking Baby.

I was talking with a friend of mine about people praying the other day. He was talking about how he was at some Bible Study and, at the end, people were praying for things. At first, he said, it was fine. Somebody prayed for somebody they knew who had cancer or something. Whatever, that's harmless. Then, the right-wing, brainwashed, "The Bible is always right" attitude started to come out. Somebody was praying that the gay people would stop "choosing" to be gay and, instead, find the Lord. Holy shit. How self-righteous and backward is that? Somebody else is doing something (that they're born into--to say they choose it is just fucking stupid--"I'm going to choose to maybe get my ass kicked for expressing my love for another human being that happens to be the same sex as me") that doesn't have any sort of impact on you at all, but just because your magical book might say that it isn't right, then that person will definitely be going to hell? It's so close-minded, but I can even forgive that because at least, in a way, this person is caring about other people. But then it got really strange. People started praying for things. Not abstract things like for somebody to get over cancer or world peace, but actual, tangible, material things. Some guy wanted the group to pray for him so that he could get a laptop computer. Yeah, I'm sure that that's high on god's priority list--to make sure that you can play minesweeper on an airplane right before you die. He said a few people asked for material possessions. I'm pretty sure that if god did exist, there's no way he'd be like your rich uncle you see once a year who always gives you a present that's way better than anything your parents give you, thus making your parents realize that their sad life is nothing compared to Uncle Chad's. God is not a rich uncle.

To me, believing that the world was created by some being with super powers, like a giant Harry Potter in the sky, is absolutely ridiculous. If somebody were to honestly tell you that they believed in Zeus and Hera and all the Greek Gods, you'd laugh at them and say that they were crazy. Why is it, then, that when somebody says that they believe in god (basically an amalgamation of the Greek Gods), they aren't laughed at either? This is only because it's the widely accepted (in the religions of the United States anyway) idea pertaining to how people got here. Science has shown that the Big Bang could have easily, and most logically, created the Universe, but, instead, people choose to think that there's some fucking wizard who just snapped his fingers and made something. People truly believe that the type of shit that happens on Bewitched is the way that the world was created. God is not Samantha Stevens.

Now, for most people, the idea of how we got here isn't why they are religious. For the majority of people, they hide in religion because they're afraid of what happens when they die. What are the consequences of the shit that they do while they're "on earth?" A lot of people suddenly "find" religion (jesus, I'm using a lot of quotation marks--understand I'm being facetious when I'm using them, I'm not sporadically quoting somebody) when they have done something horrible in their life and they want to feel better about it. This is why religion is so prominent in prisons, drug rehab centers, and in the mind of the Vietnamese prostitute lying in my bed the morning after (I get the overnight prostitutes; that's right I'm a big spender, beeeotches). A lot of people are so afraid of what a shitty human being they actually are, and they hate themselves for it, that they decide the only way they can feel better about how fucking horrible they are is by hiding all their problems in one place where it's okay to be fucked up because there's this being who will love you unconditionally. How convenient, huh? The greater part about this is that death, something normally feared for its uncertainty, is now something that's "even better than life." God is not Walt Disney.

Dude, I heard that in Heaven that, like, all you have to do is think about what kind of Slurpee you want and you'll have one, like, instantly. No matter what flavor. Seriously! God's so fucking awesome! Let's go to the child molestation booth!--Some fictitious Christian moron

One of the worst aspects of religious people are those that try to push their beliefs on somebody else. There's this guy that I used to work with who was really religious. Whenever he would bring the subject of religion up, I would try to leave. See, I try to be really non-confrontational about religion because people are entitled to believe what they want--they're just wrong. Well, this guy always talked about it and talked about how I should read the Bible (which I've read enough of to know that it's like goddamn Aesop's Fables but without animals). Then, when I'd explain to him that I won't be reading it, he'd say stuff like, "I'll pray for you." This is such a condescending statement. They can think it to themselves, write it on their John 3:16 post-it note, but to tell somebody that is basically saying, "Well, you don't believe what I do, so you're going to burn in hell for it. But I'll try to talk to god, I'm in good with him, and see what I can do for you." I can't reply, "Well, I won't pray for you" because it comes off smarmy and elitist when, in actuality, that's exactly what I'm going to do, I'm just letting them know, just as they let me know. What they don't realize is that they're actually being elitist, self-important, and "holier than thou" when they say things like that. God is not Bill O'Reilly.

See, it comes down to the question of logic versus believing that the Lord of the Rings actually happened. That's how far-fetched religion is. It may as well involve dragons, orcs and shit. Because it has no basis in reality. Those who believe in religion are those who use it as a crutch to make themselves feel better about their position in life. Whether it's to pick themselves up after murdering somebody and ruining their life or they're on their deathbed and need to feel comfortable about what's on "the other side," it's there to fill that spot in their brain that can't comprehend something. I'm not saying finding religion in these situations is bad, if it helps somebody be a better person, that's great, but what I'm saying is that people shouldn't need to be told not to be a shitty person and, if somebody's dying, whether or not they believe in God, they're still going to die and they're still going to the same nothingness that everybody goes to (it's a sad thought to those that can't handle it). God is not a get-out-of-jail-free card.

The Bible, the object held in such high regard by so many Christians, is about as useful as a pogo stick to Christopher Reeve. The U.S. Constitution, something 228 years old, has been amended 27 times and still, a lot of the writing and ideas are outdated. The Bible is around 1900 years old yet the same things remain within it. The only things that change are the translations. Doesn't it seem wrong that there haven't been any changes to the ideas expressed within the Bible? Are these people saying that we, as humans, haven't evolved morally and ideologically in two thousand years? It's actually scary to think that these people, who follow something written that long ago, are in charge of the country right now. If I buy the wrong edition of a book for a science class I have, there's the possibility that that information could be outdated even though it was only written a year ago. You're trying to tell me that in two thousand years nothing has changed? Yeah, I'm talking to you! Fuck you, buddy! To put it less eloquently (I think I'm in the negatives on eloquence), that's just retarded. God is not Christopher Burke (Corky from Life Goes On).

Now that I'm the only person left that will actually read this thing, because people are so goddamn sensitive about religion, I'm anxious to see what I'm going to talk about next. I think I'll talk about my undying love for Satan since everybody knows that all atheists are in bed with Satan. So, next entry will just be me scrawling pentagrams on my computer while chanting about Beelzebub's power over myself and the world.

Made-up aphorism of the day:
The brain is like a band-aid. They both help things heal quicker, but sting like a sonofabitch when you remove them.

That's Interesting!

Something occured to me today while in my Latin film studies class. Every classroom has the guy who always chimes in with the most inane, ridiculous, and completely irrelevant comments. There have been two of these guys in my classes the past couple years and, without fail, one of them is always in one of my classes every quarter.

The first guy is this guy with a complexion like wet Koosh ball who always rides his scooter to class. He was most prominent in one of my creative writing classes where he would ask the most retarded questions about the readings. For example, in the Hemingway story, "Hills Like White Elephants," it's about this couple at a train station and a woman is contemplating getting an abortion, though it's never actually said. The guy would actually ask a question like, "Why are the hills like white elephants? I don't get it? Is it because there are lots of peanuts on the hills or an Indian guy is riding them? I don't understand." I wanted to crosscheck him whenever he started to speak. He wouldn't ask a question to be funny, he'd ask the question because he was a fucking moron.

Worse, however, is this one guy with facial hair that hasn't been seen since Tutankhamen (I spelled this right the first time, motherfuckas!) who had a voice like if he coughed too hard, a tablespoon of semen would end up on his shirt. Though he had a voice like a two-hour marathon of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," his sexuality was ambiguous. Anyway, the aspect of this guy's personality that made me want to slam an iron on the "Polyester" setting into his neck was how he would always talk in class and never make any sense. It's like he saw somebody actually make a fucking point once and so he thinks now he can do it. Every professor I ever had hated the kid but was never able to admit it. Once, however, this little Pharoah fell asleep in class and somebody pointed it out and the professor said to just let him sleep. Everybody laughed when they realized that even professors are allowed to have hate in their heart.

The point of this post is because something funny happened today in class with a new guy that has taken the place of these previous two gentlemen. I've realized the code language that professors use when they hate a student. We were talking about the opening scene of Orson Welles' A Touch of Evil and the guy raised his hand and made some long-winded point about nothing in particular that made any sort of sense. The professor simply replied by saying, "Oh. I'd never thought of it that way." She then quickly picked another person to erase the stink of stupid in the room. This stink would follow me home, however, and make its way into this very post.

I apologize.

Interesting thought of the day:
Cereal companies don't actually make the items that they advertise on their boxes that cost a certain amount of UPC symbols because nobody ever fucking sends those things in. UPC symbols are the lazy man's kryptonite.