What kind of music do mummies listen to?
Wrap.
This is probably the most entertaining part of Halloween -- the horribly obvious jokes. That and the fact that I can snag bite sized candies anywhere my fat face happens to wander. But in all honesty, this supposed holiday boggles my mind. It doesn't make any sense, hardly anyone really knows of its origin or historical implications, and in my humble opinion, it's just another forced piece of retardation directed at our ever increasingly dumbed down culture.
Doesn't it at all seem the slightest bit askew that there's one day out of the whole year that we're expected to dress up in costume and regress to a glorified state of peasantry? No matter what you or your child dresses up as, you're giving off the strong impression of a mindless beggar. Either you're begging for candy, or begging for attention with your costume. If you're so mentally poor, act like it everyday so I don't have to guess whether or not you're really a classless pawn. It's not that I have a problem with dressing up, eating candy, talking to strangers, or having a good time being a silly goose. What I do have a problem with is someone telling me that it's only acceptable for me to do these things on this one specific day. If you tried to pull off Halloween shenanigans on any other day of the year, you'd wind up in jail. So, what the eff is so special about some day that people have turned into a mindless way to control the masses?
First of all, trick or treating is a perfect example of what a paradox our society has become. This isn't the 1950s anymore. People don't talk to each other on the streets. Everyone's in their little bubbles and refuse to reach out to their fellow man on any given day. Yet on one stupid day in Fall, when people are told to interact with other drones, everyone drops what they are doing and come in contact with more strangers than an inner city harlot. And by the way, if it's trick or treat and I had something to say about it, I would prefer your insufferable ass try and trick me every time. Not because I don't like you and I don't want to give you sweets but because you're expecting something on a night just like any other and yet you can't even look me in the eye when you walk by to get your mail. How about I come to your door and trick you into thinking you aren't as dumb as you look?
Another thing. I'm convinced that Halloween is a leading cause to the increasing child obesity epidemic that is plaguing our chubby little pumpkin youths throughout the country. It's like waving cigarettes or booze in front of a "trying to quit" smoker or a recovering alcoholic. We know that there's a problem in this country with lard butt, turkey neck, back neck roles, man boobs, golf ball thighs, jiggly jowels, and a whole host of other ways to say that someone is too fat to let that last piece of greasy bacon go to waste. What a culture. Let's cash in on the gluttony and lack of self control of the populus. Let's just bet against the handicapped in cage matches while we're at it. Fat, fat, fat. And it's all because of the candy companies, costume companies, and corporate ghouls.
Who did Frankenstein take to the prom?
His ghoul friend.
So why do people accept people dressed as ghoulish creepers on October first but completely reject gothic teens with scarred wrists? It's okay one day but not the other? Use your brain, World. I don't know. I guess I'll never understand Halloween and I don't have a problem with that. The burden of making just a little bit of sense isn't upon me. It's upon the shoulders of all of the dumb dumb kooks who don't understand what they're doing on All Saint's Day Eve while thus misguiding their soon to be dumb dumb kook kids.
Shame, shame, I know your name.
10.31.2007
10.29.2007
Monday
Unlike the ominous glowing orb that rises in the east each morning with its two scoops of boulder sized raisins, I do have a choice of whether or not to get up and show my face to the world. Yes, I know, it feels like we have things we must disrupt our natural process of rest for but in reality, we don't. It's all choice: work, leisure, sex (which can be considered leisure I suppose), school, interpretive dance class, housekeeping, gardening, driving, gratuitous violence, spying, creating artificial accidents, and what have you. The only things we have to do are consume fuel and defecate. Although we can starve ourselves, sooner or later we will let loose in our pants. But rest assured, you don't "have to" clean up after yourself. But I digress.
Today is Monday and I find myself at work, wondering why in God's good name I am subjecting myself to this unholy occupation of time. My job has one hundred percent nothing to do with what I love, my dreams and ambitions, or what I ultimately want to do with my life. I don't have to go in. But then again, I don't need a cell phone, or a car, or those one point five ounce each calf implants that are guaranteed to get me laid. What a conundrum. For some reason I continually show up -- Monday after Monday. And I never fail to question my true motivation. It's simple really.
Monetary Satisfaction. Self Indulgence. Retardation.
It's my own fault. It's my inherent wanting of eternally useless material and product that direct how I experience the majority of my life and where I choose to do the majority of my daydreaming while practicing the art of escapism. Unfortunately, when I snap back to reality, it's always the same disappointment.
"But what am I doing this for?" I say.
"Money, you dolt."
"But I don't need it."
"You're right."
I vainly add, "But I want it."
"But you're not seeing the big picture."
"But what is the big picture?" I ask.
"The fact that you can't say anything without using 'but' as a preface. That's your problem."
"Not-uh."
"You're an excuse machine. You make excuses to obtain what you want rather than what you need. Your tunnel vision is blinding you. All these sentences have one common problem. You."
"But why are we fighting now?"
I rest my case.
Here's the thing -- gold will only get you so far but at the end of the road, it's a worthless piece of metal on a giant rock floating in the middle of what is mostly incomprehensibly vast empty space. Think about how matter is mostly empty space. Every "thing" you see is made of mostly nothing. I'm talking about the atomic level if critical thinking isn't your strong suit.
Everything is mostly nothing.
That's profound and that's the conclusion I come to when I'm at work. All this work is for nothing in the end. But I show up and I suffer physical pain, mental disturbance, and emotional feelings I wouldn’t feel otherwise if I were sitting my the pool, sipping mojitos while getting an oily foot rub from an illegal immigrant.
So I keep in mind that I am weak and constantly let myself succumb to the ridiculous social order that we have come to. It's rather amazing to think that out of all the possibilities for society to turn out, this is what we got. There's a reason for that. This is obviously not what we wanted. It's what we needed.
We need everything made up of mostly nothing because if we had been given nothing, we would have everything and crave nothing, and life just wouldn't be as fun.
Today is Monday and I find myself at work, wondering why in God's good name I am subjecting myself to this unholy occupation of time. My job has one hundred percent nothing to do with what I love, my dreams and ambitions, or what I ultimately want to do with my life. I don't have to go in. But then again, I don't need a cell phone, or a car, or those one point five ounce each calf implants that are guaranteed to get me laid. What a conundrum. For some reason I continually show up -- Monday after Monday. And I never fail to question my true motivation. It's simple really.
Monetary Satisfaction. Self Indulgence. Retardation.
It's my own fault. It's my inherent wanting of eternally useless material and product that direct how I experience the majority of my life and where I choose to do the majority of my daydreaming while practicing the art of escapism. Unfortunately, when I snap back to reality, it's always the same disappointment.
"But what am I doing this for?" I say.
"Money, you dolt."
"But I don't need it."
"You're right."
I vainly add, "But I want it."
"But you're not seeing the big picture."
"But what is the big picture?" I ask.
"The fact that you can't say anything without using 'but' as a preface. That's your problem."
"Not-uh."
"You're an excuse machine. You make excuses to obtain what you want rather than what you need. Your tunnel vision is blinding you. All these sentences have one common problem. You."
"But why are we fighting now?"
I rest my case.
Here's the thing -- gold will only get you so far but at the end of the road, it's a worthless piece of metal on a giant rock floating in the middle of what is mostly incomprehensibly vast empty space. Think about how matter is mostly empty space. Every "thing" you see is made of mostly nothing. I'm talking about the atomic level if critical thinking isn't your strong suit.
Everything is mostly nothing.
That's profound and that's the conclusion I come to when I'm at work. All this work is for nothing in the end. But I show up and I suffer physical pain, mental disturbance, and emotional feelings I wouldn’t feel otherwise if I were sitting my the pool, sipping mojitos while getting an oily foot rub from an illegal immigrant.
So I keep in mind that I am weak and constantly let myself succumb to the ridiculous social order that we have come to. It's rather amazing to think that out of all the possibilities for society to turn out, this is what we got. There's a reason for that. This is obviously not what we wanted. It's what we needed.
We need everything made up of mostly nothing because if we had been given nothing, we would have everything and crave nothing, and life just wouldn't be as fun.
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