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For those of you who get a little frustrated.
Subject: FW: if you ever get pissed off... (fwd)
for my two guys......chris this is for you.....
"An Ode to the Morning" By Blake Davis...
Direct from the University of Colorado at Boulder....
Ever have one of those days where you just feel like pissing on the world?
Not just pissing on the world, but like laughing while you're doing it? I feel
like ****. I look like ****. And I feel like I look like ****. Things are not
going well. But then again, this is the way I feel every morning. That's why I
usually sleep through it. It's like this completely disgusting and awful thing
that is absolutely unnecessary---like finding a green chip all of a sudden in an
otherwise perfectly good bag of Ruffles. In fact, there is only one thing in
this whole ******* world that I hate more than the morning, and that's onions.
And rap music also. And my ex-roommate. I swear if I ever went to hell it
would be this eternal morning with this huge ******* alarm clock blaring rap
music. And then I would have to get up and eat onions all day with my
ex-roommate who is so stupid that he would probably stare at a wall for days
unless someone told him to stop. He actually asked me to help him shave his
back hair once. I'm sorry Bjorn, I'd rather have the entire Love Boat sailed up
my *** on a regular basis than touch your back hair you ******** *** ** ****.
He came down the other day and told me that his new goal in life is to rob a
bank because he was inspired by the movie "Wisdom." Demi Moore has inspired me
to do many things in life, but robbing a bank has never been one of them.
Been there... Done that.
Lately I've been working on this theory that seems to remedy all
problems--it's called violence. Guns, knives, an armored tank, large farm
machinery, piano wire, a rusty bear trap, a random light socket, dental floss
(preferably waxed), or even a dollar bill (that's George Washington if you're
nasty) could do the trick.
I recomend you do NOT act any of this out.
For instance, you enter your neighborhood Taco Bell
and say, "I'd like three soft taco's without the fingernails or pubic hair...oh,
and add sour cream," and they say "Excuse me sir, but I don't appreciate the
smart *** comment." And then you say, "Well I don't appreciate the hair growing
out of the mole on the side of your face." And then they say, "OK mister, I've
had just about enough of you." And that's where you pull out the gun. By the
way, if you ever get Taco Bell, don't look on the inside. I had a friend once
who opened up her seven layer burrito and I swear it looked like someone had
just after-birthed in it.
That's a nice thought.
Speaking of afterbirth (I've always wanted to say
that), there was this kid in my creative writing class last semester who had
friends of the family who saved their afterbirth and fried it up and ate it. I
mean do you use a lot of ketchup? What about leftovers? Is that stuff
re-heatable? I mean what kind of ******* **** eats afterbirth? And why the
**** does my ex-girlfriend (a.k.a. **** of the universe) keep calling me? It's
called a year and a half *****. A year and a ******* half since we broke up so
why do you call me every other day and ask if I'm dating someone else? I could
have a **** of ***** in my bed every night and it's none of your *******
business. And that's beside the fact that she looks like someone screwed an ***
onto her neck and stapled a cheap wig to the top of it.
I went to a movie the other day and there were these two people sitting in
front of me about to inhale each others faces. It was the most disgusting damn
thing I've ever seen. This guy actually licked the entire length of her arm and
then stuck his tongue so far into her ear I swear it was going to come out the
other side. And they were ugly too. There is absolutely nothing worse in the
world than watching ugly people kissing in public. Two sweating, hairy, fat
people wearing black concert T-shirts licking each other in public (preferably
near a restaurant or eating area). I mean this is what laws are for.
You could see us?
I saw two
ugly people at the State Fair once sharing an ice cream cone and they actually
licked it out of each others mouths. I mean there is no discreet way to do
something like that. If I lit my *** on fire and hung it out of the window of a
speeding automobile it would still be considerably more discreet.
I don't recommend that either.
Not to
mention the bodily fluids involved in that kind of public display of affection.
About the only thing more violent than that is the food in our cafeteria. The
other day they actually served Pinto Bean Loaf. Yes, Pinto...Bean... Loaf. I
mean what does that look like? I don't know, that word "loaf" just makes me
very afraid for some reason. And then there's three bean delight. Which word
does not fit in that phrase--three, bean, or delight? I'm sorry, anything that
has three beans in it is not a delight. Yesterday we had Breaded Perch. BREADED
PERCH. Isn't Perch like something actual real fish eat? We don't have just
chicken, we have chicken with the feet still on them. We have turkey that
floats.
That's the best kind.
We have gravy that becomes a lumpy green substance within minutes of
exposure to the air. And they have these official sounding names for all the
foods. For instance: Vermont Cheese Soup--as if the cheese soup from South
Dakota would inspire laughter by everyone in the cafeteria. And out of everyone
in the breathing world you would want to handle your food they have to choose
people that look like extras from a prison **** movie.
About the only thing that annoys me more is poetry. It's nothing
personal--it's just poetry. It's this sick, twisted, perverted cult that wants
to transform the world into a bunch of ****** and ****** skipping from flower
to flower in a bunch of rhyming couplets. It's all satanic you know. What do
you think happened to Elvis? The poets got him. Where did the bullet from the
grassy knoll come from. That's right, the poets. River Phoenix? Yep, he was
getting too close to their L.A. based operation. It's called "The Texas
Chainsaw Massacre"--that whole damn family used to be poets before they decided
to chop up all those teenagers. They were just sitting there one day reading "In
a Station at the Metro" and they said, "I know what it means!" It's all
subliminal. They trick you into trying to find a deeper meaning and it ends up
saying the same damn thing in your head no matter which poem you read: "Get a
gun and kill your grandmother." They're evil and they must be stopped. Every
line has something Satanic in it. For instance: "Hail to thee, blithe spirit"
if read backwards really says "Satan is the king of the world and he drives a
big ******* Buick." The world is not a safe place for the normal people
anymore. The people that like to watch re-runs of "Welcome Back Kotter," the
people that eat dog biscuits on occasion, the people that get a strange
sensation while watching those three chicks on "The Price is Right." I beg you,
do not read or write poetry. It seems so innocent at first. You open a book,
read a few lines, and BAM! you've just cut up the neighbors and are keeping them
around the house in lots of little jars.
I prefer Tupperware.
It's a sick world we live in. Just look at the headlines--incest, child
molestation, cattle mutilations, Michael Bolton, gangs, AIDS, serial killings,
drug traffic. And what does our school do about any of it?--we have Hillary
Clinton and a guy wearing a huge mask handing out Pop Tarts to everybody. And
how come I'm the only one I know who still checks the closet before I go to bed
every night? Who knows when you'll randomly open the closet door and all of a
sudden there's a mental patient with no face standing there with a hook for a
hand just pissing everywhere? Or if under the bed one night there just happens
to be an unusually large number of severed human heads just sitting there? Or
if behind the suspicious looking bulge in the drapes there is a naked bleeding
woman with a drill coming out of the end of the guitar she's playing? I have to
say that I'm a firm believer in corn field circles and in alien abductions,
especially in small towns in Iowa. I also believe in the Loch Ness Monster,
Bigfoot, and Elvis. And that Jim Morrison is alive and living in a small town
in Africa. I believe in Chinese food, southern accents, and that "Twin Peaks"
was a damn fine TV show if I do say so my damn self.
Don't you believe in TheShocker?
By the way, in case you were wondering, my Astronomy mid-term was such a
nightmarishly impossible thing that I was going to throw myself out of my window
(I live on the first floor, but that's beside the point). I just stared at the
test for an hour and a half and then fell on the ground and started flopping
like a fish. And my T.A. in the class is one enormous walking penile implant.
The man should be run over by a large vehicle driven by Tina Turner if there's
any justice at all in the world. And I still haven't found the air nozzle on the
back of our teacher yet that
blows him up. I swear the man is the equivalent of a human inner-tube. He
should be thrown into a pool and have little kids ride on him. And he's one of
those teachers that puts one of those cheesy multiple choice problems on the end
of a test:
Professor Dulk is...
a) my favorite teacher in the world,
b) the bestest Astronomy teacher I've ever had,
c) the equivalent of an orgasm in the field of Astronomy teaching,
d) like butter, etc.
I would love to do one of my own:
Professor Dulk is an enormous gyrating...
a) penis
b) penis
c) penis
d) all of the above
e) all of the above and penis
But I mean that in the best possible way of course. I'm really not a negative
person at all.
Why would we think that?
When I mention death or severe maiming for instance, I don't
mean in in the negative way. If my Astronomy teacher happened to be backed over
eighty three times while innocently crossing a parking lot and the car for some
reason was registered to my name, I wouldn't be so quick to focus on the
negatives of the situation. In fact, I'm a very positive person. I usually try
to concentrate on the positives in most situations, but I probably don't have to
tell you that.
That's right.
I find it refreshing to spend my free time helping out at
homeless shelters, rescuing a stranded kitten out of a tree, or accompanying a
senior citizen across a busy intersection. On weekends I like to plant trees in
the community. And when I'm not doing that I teach an adult literacy class in my
spare time. My hobbies are bird watching, winding thread around an enormous
spool, and skipping through fields with Wilford Brimley. I also like to ponder
world problems while laying on a rock; such as: What's the deal with Bob
Barker's hair? One day it's brown, the next it's white. Was Dillon really
worth breaking up a good friendship like Brenda and Kelly's? Does the Coyote
secretly like the Roadrunner, and if so will he send him a Hallmark card on his
birthday? It's enough to make a man do something drastic.
I'd like to end now with one of my favorite quotes. Except it has
absolutely nothing to do with this paper. But then again, this paper has
absolutely nothing to do with anything anyway. So like I said, I'm going to end
with one of my favorite quotes from the movie "Bull Durham":
"Well, what do you believe in then?"
"I believe in the soul, the ****, the *****, the small of a woman's
back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan
Sonntag are self-indulgent over-rated crap; I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted
alone; I believe that there should be a constitutional amendment outlawing
astro-turf and the designated hitter; I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core
pornography, open your presents Christmas Day rather than Christmas Eve, and I
believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
--"Crash" Davis
* This wonderful work has been brought to you by Blake Davis, located at
the University of Colorado the home of the terminally eclectic....
Lay off the Caffeine.
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