Don't Poop December!

       

       As most of you probably know, it is Don't Poop December. This is gonna be way more challenging than No Shave November, people, so I hope everybody has their game faces on. Though it's only day seven now I already have had moments where I really, really wanted to quit, like bad, but I have managed to persevere by listening to motivational tapes and doing plenty of handstands. I am not about to let my selfish desire to shit get in the way of a good cause, and let's not forget why we're doing this thing. We're doing this for the midgets. We feel it should be illegal for a normal-sized person to fart in an elevator while a midget is present. This has been an ongoing and well-publicized problem for years. We are all aware of it, but too many of us are willing to turn a blind eye, and too many are unwilling to close the brown eye. So if they can still fart, we are not going to poop.

       We are totally against the tossing of midgets as well. 

       Contrary to popular belief, not pooping for extended periods of time is quite healthy, and may even cause you to become an American icon. It is widely suspected that John Wayne participated in his own Don't Poop December throughout much of the 70's, which could be why he was able to function for so many years after having one of his lungs removed. He smoked cigars after that, too, and it didn't even faze him until he died. 

       

       Of course, a shit-free decade would be the stuff of legend, an almost superhuman feat, but then again, that's exactly what John Wayne was. He was the stuff of legend, an almost superhuman feat. So that's exactly what he did, though actually there was no autopsy done so we can never be sure, and regardless you shouldn't buy any colon cleansing product advertised on television, and if you do you shouldn't be surprised when the results you see include massive anal hemorrhaging. But I for one believe he really did it, and it may have been why he was always feeling the need to poop out of his mouth with shit such as this:

What I think the Duke was trying to say is "chalk it up to the game."

       That may have been exactly how it went down, because I wasn't actually there, but I have my doubts, mostly because the very concept of land possession was invented by white people, and by the way, when you think about it, it's a pretty retarded concept. The idea that a forest or a stream or a mountain or a field could be the property of some bipedal ape such as John Wayne or perhaps Rush Limbaugh seems pretty ridiculous when you think it through. It should actually be the other way around, because the truth is that we are more or less property of the land. We think we can dominate nature and section it off into neat compartments and bend it toward our own unnatural desires, but the truth is that nature ultimately dominates us and could straight own any or all of us at any given time. Has anyone seen a live dinosaur recently?
       Of course we do have the ability to shield ourselves from nature somewhat and to fuck with nature and ultimately kill things, including other humans, though we hope if that happens it's the ones we don't care about, like in the case of the Bhopal disaster. We hope it's the two-dimensional people who live far away in a country so impoverished we can't even imagine it so it doesn't seem real, the people who used to be made of paper and are now made of pixels, but were never flesh and bone. They are not our kin and they ultimately don't matter. And I imagine if John Wayne were still alive when the Bhopal disaster occurred he would probably have said something to the effect of "chalk it up to the game," or at least thought it.
       So maybe we shouldn't be like John Wayne after all. Maybe instead of trying to master our environment we should learn to coexist with it. I definitely don't think we should celebrate genocide. Columbus didn't fly over here on his fleet of imperial turkeys just to have us do that.
       But still, no pooping until January 1st. For the midgets.

       

Tweet

Search Engine Sluts - One Man's Choice to Take the High Road and Lady Gaga UFC Knockouts

        Recently it has come to my attention that search engine sluts are on the loose, so it might be a good time to shelter thy kin, and anything else with genitals, for that matter, because from what I understand they are all over the wonderwebs, sort of like pr0n, and are slowly but surely turning them into webs of confusion and sadness. Let me explain.
       I have spent the last one and a half nights trying to understand keyword research, only to find out that it is way too involved for me to bother understanding completely and would take months of dedication to effectively use, and also that every site related to the subject was created by some gimmicky marketing fuckwad who uses annoying little tricks to try and keep you reading and maybe purchase his bullshit product which is available elsewhere for free. I think they serve a valid purpose, but I don't have a business and I am not trying to corner some very specific market; I am merely trying to be funny in my spare time and that hardly justifies months of research, especially when I could be doing something I enjoy, like writing. But the thing is, I want a lot more out of this than amusing myself and a few of my friends. Currently about 10% of my readership is represented by me, and I am not okay with that. By no means am I satisfied with that, and that is why I was pondering becoming a search engine slut, so that my blog would be the first thing to come up if you google the word labradoodle or something, because what I truly want in life is to be immensely famous, like Kat Von D, and frankly, I am surprised it hasn't happened for me yet. And saddened.

        I think I have some insight into why I might want that so bad. It's because deep down I am really scared of dying, though I would like to think otherwise, and through fame I could further convince myself of the illusion that I am some sort of immortal and nothing could ever kill me, not even a train. I think I've suspected for awhile now that death fear was a huge part of what drove myself and others, but I recently saw a documentary on the subject and after 3 or 4 days of my mind literally being trapped in a bottle because of the profound mindfuckery said film presented, I feel I am finally starting to realize how deep the reaches of death fear really could be. I know I'm digressing but I think it's an important film and worth plugging. Watch it.
      And of course another reason would be to have lots and lots of sex.
      But I will not be getting there via shameless self-promotion. I was thinking that maybe I should take that route, but I have changed my mind. That's not who I am. Maybe I should try being super-diligent or something. Or maybe I should just become a serial killer.

LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE    LABRADOODLE 

      Does anyone out there know how you do this shit? Tweet