In this world, there are animals and plants. You've got your fungus, bacteria, probably some other stuff. Today I'm dealing with animals, and they can be ranked in order of intelligence. Obviously, human beings are on top. Who's on the bottom? The horse.
If you are a girl attending an elementary school, you might not like what I've got to say. Your love of horses is well-documented, but ultimately unfounded. Read and learn.
A horse is irrational. Everyone knows that violence is rarely justified, but when implemented must be proportional. If I kick you: by all means, kick me back promptly. What does a horse do? It doesn't kick you after you sit on its back and kick it. It kicks you when you are standing innocently behind it. You might even be feeding it or shoveling its shit. Ingrate.
Horses think that they are too cool for the food chain. Everyone knows that a short fish eats a tall fish. Tall fish eats grande fish, and grande fish is in turn eaten by venti fish. A horse is too dumb for this. Horses get eaten by an animal that is at most a quarter of its size. Horses get eaten by dogs, and yet dogs are considered stupid? Think again.
Horses are too stupid for evolution. Evolutionary theory tells us that every species is working as well as it possibly can. Alas, not the horse. A horse has a design flaw. A horse has feet, four of them. These feet would seem to be used as every animal uses them: they make contact with the ground, and propel the horse forward via locomotion. Horses cannot accomplish this, because their feet will get hurt. Their feet are faulty, and must have metal nailed into them. To prevent pain, they must have metal nailed into them, to accomplish the task that every other animal can accomplish without aftermarket alterations.
A horse is too stupid to move its head left or right. If you want to confuse a horse, there is a simple solution. They're called blinders. If you know anything about how blindness works, there are three ways. One, masturbation. Two, some kind of disease or injury that causes eye malfunction. Three, cover your eyes completely. Blinders only cover the side of a horse's head. If a horse needs to look to the left or right, and is wearing blinders, it will be blind. Let's be clear, it has a fully functional neck. It will not use it, because it is stupid.
A horse is stupid because it holds outdated notions about femininity. All other animals have adjusted to the various gains of the women's movement since the tumultuous 1960s. Women are equal to men, and have much to offer intellectually. I guess horses missed the memo, because a female horse is synonymous with a vagina to a male horse. A horse will not notice at all if you replace the female horse that it has been living with its entire life with a warm penis-sized pouch. This is degrading, and it must stop. It also speaks to the profound stupidity of the horse.
Honestly, I could go on and on. However, at this point I fear I am beating a dead horse.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Thoughts
I make no apologies for the 6 months + since my last post. Every single drop of wisdom that you suckle from my ample teat is a gift, and I owe you nothing.
I was driving home from synagogue this past Friday night, when I looked at the car in front of me. I always read bumper stickers; this one said "My boss is a Jewish carpenter". My first thought: "That's weird, why wouldn't you just say my boss is a carpenter?" My second thought: "Wait, why wouldn't you just say I'm a carpenter?" Then it hit me: oh yeah, Jeeeeeeeeeeezus.
I realize that this isn't that big of a deal, and I'm getting my Jewish panties in a twist (note to my few readers: Jews don't have special panties, you're thinking of Mormons). However, it made me think of several things that I am now sharing for no good reason.
Jesus has basically ruined the entire profession of carpentry for the entire people of Israel. Uncle Bernie goes down to the local hardware store to get some crescent wrenches or hobnails or whatever the hell, and the clerk looks at him: "Jewish carpenter? Just like Jesus hurf durf!"
The reasoning behind this person's choice in bumper sticker, however, is not to say anything about the noble tradition of hammering wood or being a Jew. It is to say, "I'm a Christian". I'm wondering how that information is in any way necessary or interesting. Are we to believe that some ne'er-do-well with a bad case of road rage and nothing to lose will be this close to ramming the back of the unlucky Ford Windstar, when all of a sudden he looks down at the fateful bumper? "Wait just a cotton picking minute! This is a Christian van! Oh no! They surely don't deserve this vehicular homicide!" So the seemingly inane bumper sticker has just saved the very lives of Soccer Mom & the Bible Gang.
Another possible scenario: Dr. Mohammed is a Muslim abortion doctor. An unlikely profession, you say? Not so, for everyone knows that both the Islamic faith and the pro-choice movement are spawned from the deepest darkest depths of Hell. Dr. Mohammed is driving his foreign car home from Planned Parenthood, because he's had a long hard day of abortioning, and is ready to relax. Say, what's this? He looks down, and sees that he is following a car driven by none other than Onward Christian Soldiers. All the time he spent reading the Qu'ran, as well as modern medical textbooks, when all he needed to read to get the truth was this simple bumper sticker! It really made him think. He should be a Christian too! He renounces his faith and his profession and everyone lives happily ever after.
I was driving home from synagogue this past Friday night, when I looked at the car in front of me. I always read bumper stickers; this one said "My boss is a Jewish carpenter". My first thought: "That's weird, why wouldn't you just say my boss is a carpenter?" My second thought: "Wait, why wouldn't you just say I'm a carpenter?" Then it hit me: oh yeah, Jeeeeeeeeeeezus.
I realize that this isn't that big of a deal, and I'm getting my Jewish panties in a twist (note to my few readers: Jews don't have special panties, you're thinking of Mormons). However, it made me think of several things that I am now sharing for no good reason.
Jesus has basically ruined the entire profession of carpentry for the entire people of Israel. Uncle Bernie goes down to the local hardware store to get some crescent wrenches or hobnails or whatever the hell, and the clerk looks at him: "Jewish carpenter? Just like Jesus hurf durf!"
The reasoning behind this person's choice in bumper sticker, however, is not to say anything about the noble tradition of hammering wood or being a Jew. It is to say, "I'm a Christian". I'm wondering how that information is in any way necessary or interesting. Are we to believe that some ne'er-do-well with a bad case of road rage and nothing to lose will be this close to ramming the back of the unlucky Ford Windstar, when all of a sudden he looks down at the fateful bumper? "Wait just a cotton picking minute! This is a Christian van! Oh no! They surely don't deserve this vehicular homicide!" So the seemingly inane bumper sticker has just saved the very lives of Soccer Mom & the Bible Gang.
Another possible scenario: Dr. Mohammed is a Muslim abortion doctor. An unlikely profession, you say? Not so, for everyone knows that both the Islamic faith and the pro-choice movement are spawned from the deepest darkest depths of Hell. Dr. Mohammed is driving his foreign car home from Planned Parenthood, because he's had a long hard day of abortioning, and is ready to relax. Say, what's this? He looks down, and sees that he is following a car driven by none other than Onward Christian Soldiers. All the time he spent reading the Qu'ran, as well as modern medical textbooks, when all he needed to read to get the truth was this simple bumper sticker! It really made him think. He should be a Christian too! He renounces his faith and his profession and everyone lives happily ever after.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Happy Canada Day!
Before I start spouting off maple-tinged patriotism, I'd first like to apologise for my lateness in posting. It's been a long time. I shouldn't have left you without a dope beat to step to. Step to step to step to...
Today is Canada Day, and for Americans who barely know their own history I'll briefly explain what that means. On July first, 1867, four British colonies joined together in a federation called the Dominion of Canada. They were Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and the Province of Canada, which split into Ontario and Quebec. This act of federation created an independent Kingdom out of Canada, although Britain held some degree of power until 1982.
What does all that mean to me, a 22-year-old almost college graduate who at this point has lived in the United States for three quarters of my life? It means so much.
Being a Canadian citizen means belonging to a country with a rich history, not entirely bloodless but devoid of imperialism. It means being a part of a true melting pot, a place where multiculturalism has worked almost from its beginning. When I lived in Vancouver, my friends were Indian, Chinese, Anglo, Russian, and were Christians, Sikhs, Muslims, and Buddhists. That diversity would not be reached again in all my years of living in America, until I finally got to college.
Canada is my North American escape pod. If I need to distance myself from the American tendencies of illegal war, environmental degradation and cultural imperialism I know I always have a home above the 49th parallel.
I am proud of the Canadian soldiers who gave their lives in the poppy fields of Flanders during the Great War. I am proud of the men who stormed Normandy in World War II. I am proud of the government's decision to stay out of Korea and Vietnam. I am proud of the soldiers giving their lives as we speak in Afghanistan, the war that's almost forgotten as the rest of the world wonders what the hell is going on in Iraq.
I love hockey, I love universal health care, I love gay marriage. I love Don Cherry, I love the Kids in the Hall, I love SCTV, I love Dan Aykroyd. I love that Toronto is the kind of place where a draft-dodging Rick James can play bass alongside Neil Young in the Mynah Birds, Motown Records' first rock band. I love that the beer is cold and different from water, unlike its American counterparts. I love that I can sing the national anthem without straining my voice or mentioning bombs. I love the juxtaposition of beavers, loons, sailboats, polar bears, and Queen Elizabeth II on money.
God keep our land glorious and free. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!
Today is Canada Day, and for Americans who barely know their own history I'll briefly explain what that means. On July first, 1867, four British colonies joined together in a federation called the Dominion of Canada. They were Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and the Province of Canada, which split into Ontario and Quebec. This act of federation created an independent Kingdom out of Canada, although Britain held some degree of power until 1982.
What does all that mean to me, a 22-year-old almost college graduate who at this point has lived in the United States for three quarters of my life? It means so much.
Being a Canadian citizen means belonging to a country with a rich history, not entirely bloodless but devoid of imperialism. It means being a part of a true melting pot, a place where multiculturalism has worked almost from its beginning. When I lived in Vancouver, my friends were Indian, Chinese, Anglo, Russian, and were Christians, Sikhs, Muslims, and Buddhists. That diversity would not be reached again in all my years of living in America, until I finally got to college.
Canada is my North American escape pod. If I need to distance myself from the American tendencies of illegal war, environmental degradation and cultural imperialism I know I always have a home above the 49th parallel.
I am proud of the Canadian soldiers who gave their lives in the poppy fields of Flanders during the Great War. I am proud of the men who stormed Normandy in World War II. I am proud of the government's decision to stay out of Korea and Vietnam. I am proud of the soldiers giving their lives as we speak in Afghanistan, the war that's almost forgotten as the rest of the world wonders what the hell is going on in Iraq.
I love hockey, I love universal health care, I love gay marriage. I love Don Cherry, I love the Kids in the Hall, I love SCTV, I love Dan Aykroyd. I love that Toronto is the kind of place where a draft-dodging Rick James can play bass alongside Neil Young in the Mynah Birds, Motown Records' first rock band. I love that the beer is cold and different from water, unlike its American counterparts. I love that I can sing the national anthem without straining my voice or mentioning bombs. I love the juxtaposition of beavers, loons, sailboats, polar bears, and Queen Elizabeth II on money.
God keep our land glorious and free. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. O Canada, we stand on guard for thee!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Elixir of the Gods
Take one barely-solid Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut, lovingly nestled in the tender embrace of a piece of Wisconsin's finest cheddar, crispy fried slices off the backs of the finest swine in all the land, and delectable beef hewn from the hardiest cattle, followed of course by the inevitable second Krispy Kreme. This adds up to the closest mankind has ever come to literal metaphysical transformation: this is quite literally the elixir of the gods.
When base humanity in its squalor meets up with the heights of heaven, certain inevitable side effects result. One subject reported a near instantaneous mood change, causing brusqueness with the waitress. This was followed with physical and emotional apathy, and this subject's psyche was not one that would prove to make a return to the summit that is Lutherburger.
When this writer encountered theoculinary bliss (Latin theo God + Latin culinarius, from culina kitchen) it was something struggled with but eventually succumbed to. Rays of ethereal pleasure emanated throughout the entire being, beginning of course primarily in the tongue region. The process was disorienting to be sure, but exhaustingly stimulating as well.
Would we prove ourselves able to remount this Everest? Some said no, they could no more look at meat itself ever again after the experience. Some said that the main impediment to the Lutherburger being a staple of future consumption was the fact that it requires frequenting two restaurants (Krispy Kreme and a reputable burger joint). Nonetheless, it is truly the kind of experience that separates the men from the boys. It separates diabetes, heart disease etc. from so-called "health and wellbeing" as well. The truly great potential Übermenschen among us will choose wisely.
When base humanity in its squalor meets up with the heights of heaven, certain inevitable side effects result. One subject reported a near instantaneous mood change, causing brusqueness with the waitress. This was followed with physical and emotional apathy, and this subject's psyche was not one that would prove to make a return to the summit that is Lutherburger.
When this writer encountered theoculinary bliss (Latin theo God + Latin culinarius, from culina kitchen) it was something struggled with but eventually succumbed to. Rays of ethereal pleasure emanated throughout the entire being, beginning of course primarily in the tongue region. The process was disorienting to be sure, but exhaustingly stimulating as well.
Would we prove ourselves able to remount this Everest? Some said no, they could no more look at meat itself ever again after the experience. Some said that the main impediment to the Lutherburger being a staple of future consumption was the fact that it requires frequenting two restaurants (Krispy Kreme and a reputable burger joint). Nonetheless, it is truly the kind of experience that separates the men from the boys. It separates diabetes, heart disease etc. from so-called "health and wellbeing" as well. The truly great potential Übermenschen among us will choose wisely.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
This Career is Taking Off
Fans of my writing, were they to exist, would perhaps be interested to know that I am a rapper. As such, I have created a Myspace Music page. I am MC G-Rock and the page is here. There is unfortunately no music up there yet, as I am working on finishing my own beats to replace work I have done with other artists', albeit without their permission, such as the late J Dilla (RIP), Madlib, MF DOOM, and the like.
Subject matter includes foreign language excursions into the fields of German sausage production and romance, Finnish census data, benefits and risks of unhealthy behaviour like cigarettes and unprotected sex!
Subject matter includes foreign language excursions into the fields of German sausage production and romance, Finnish census data, benefits and risks of unhealthy behaviour like cigarettes and unprotected sex!
Everyone Should Bite Into a Pig Right Now
I recently started eating meat last week after being a vegetarian for a year. The main reason for this sea change was bacon. One night after a long day of classes and what have you, i could not think of anything else. I lay awake in bed, my loins longing for the sweet embrace of crispy fried strips of pig. The next morning I ate some, and it has been a staple of my diet in the days since.
Ethically, I feel compelled to point out that we are perfectly justified to utilise a pig for the purposes of providing bacon. Utilitarianism, the fact that killing the pig provides a greater good for society at large (bacon). With human beings, even if someone has no worth to society, we tend to keep them alive because they have inherent worth, and can create things like Thriller, Revolver, Purple Rain, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Fargo Rock City...
The most a pig could hope for is for a career in the growth industry of industrialised bacon extraction. A pig is not going to create the complete works of Shakespeare, even if there is an infinite amount of pigs. A pig is not going to create the next Moonwalk or perversely pervasive urban dance hit a la Crank Dat Soulja Boy. Bacon is a marvelous career opportunity to benefit society.
Ethically, I feel compelled to point out that we are perfectly justified to utilise a pig for the purposes of providing bacon. Utilitarianism, the fact that killing the pig provides a greater good for society at large (bacon). With human beings, even if someone has no worth to society, we tend to keep them alive because they have inherent worth, and can create things like Thriller, Revolver, Purple Rain, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Fargo Rock City...
The most a pig could hope for is for a career in the growth industry of industrialised bacon extraction. A pig is not going to create the complete works of Shakespeare, even if there is an infinite amount of pigs. A pig is not going to create the next Moonwalk or perversely pervasive urban dance hit a la Crank Dat Soulja Boy. Bacon is a marvelous career opportunity to benefit society.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Tricks N Tips
Acceptable Forms of DNA Evidence to Leave at a Playground
1. Blood, as long as it's yours.
2. Saliva, as long as it's not on the children.
3. Skin cells, as long as they aren't from your genitals.
4. Hair, as long as it's not from your genitals.
5. Semen, accompanied by a notarized letter of consent from a member of the opposite sex above the age of eighteen.
Unacceptable Forms of DNA Evidence to Leave at a Playground
1. Other people's blood.
2. Saliva on children.
3. Skin cells from your genitals.
4. Genital hair.
5. Semen under most other circumstances
1. Blood, as long as it's yours.
2. Saliva, as long as it's not on the children.
3. Skin cells, as long as they aren't from your genitals.
4. Hair, as long as it's not from your genitals.
5. Semen, accompanied by a notarized letter of consent from a member of the opposite sex above the age of eighteen.
Unacceptable Forms of DNA Evidence to Leave at a Playground
1. Other people's blood.
2. Saliva on children.
3. Skin cells from your genitals.
4. Genital hair.
5. Semen under most other circumstances
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