Tuesday, October 21, 2008
There is a certain time in the darkness when the moon hangs high in the cold sky and night and morning loose meaning and become one. When a peace falls over the sleepless, the eternal restless, the insomniacs of the world, when all hope of entering slumber is gone and that hopeless feeling is replaced by serenity. All of the sudden you start to laugh at the futility of it all let out a chuckle and resign your fate. This is a feeling reserved for us few who truly belong without sleep. There are those that have a bad night or two when the stress and the furious pace of life is too much to let the brain sleep they who complain around the proverbial water cooler about what a crappy night they had and how no one could understand how hard it is on them. To those of you who have suffered I am sorry. But this message is not for you. You are the same as those who miss a lunch and think they are starving. But this is for us few who survive on scraps alone, those of us who can’t remember what two nights of good sleep together feels like, my brothers and sisters of the night. Those who know the cool embrace of darkness and unforgiving starlight that dances and sways teases and tantalizes but never lets us forget the burning in our eyes when we blink or the yearning in our souls for release from the cruel mistress of our fates. So to you my brothers and sisters of the black I say this, you are not alone though those around you may not see as we do. We are out there we share the slumber of the damned we laugh and cry as you do at the in-betweens when night and morning loose meaning. We are there laughing like mad men at the night. The black under our eyes a badge of honor for a war fought and lost and fought again. Our struggles the same our fates entwined. To those few who understand this I mourn for you, and bid you goodnight.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
So I was thinking about Zombies the other night, as I often do huddled under the impenetrable shell of blankets and pillows that is my bed like fortress. As I listened intently for the tell tale signs of the undead; groaning, wailing and the trite but effective calling out for brains to eat, an idea struck me like a nun on an out of control Harley with a badminton racquet. Zombies aren’t evil, they just have upset stomachs! Like a starving roommate on a finger licking adventure to trots-Ville in porcelain land. Zombies are probably just too impatient to pop the brain or leg in the microwave for 3 min turning over after 2 min and making sure to use the special tinfoil like crisping tray. The brain is like a gold mine of dysentery, like a college student sucking down a medium rare chick fillet. Zombies are just really pissed off because they can’t figure out how to change the power setting on the microwave back to 10 while that incessant light blinks 12:00 over and over again. So maybe if next time the gates of the infernal pits open again and long since dead start moaning about crispy delicious brains we could take a minute to club a PETA loving, green peace promoting, acid popping freak Hippie! Feed the hippie’s pot addled brain to the living dead with a side of fries and one of those parsley sprigs. Then when they have calmed down and stop moaning all the time because of ill prepared meals and upset stomachs we can put them to work. We can start at state colleges teaching physical education, put a paper hat on them and teach them to use two baskets in the fry-illator at the same time, or simply send the whole lot of them to Berkley were mindless drones with a rotting smell would fit right in. So remember cook your chicken, club a hippie, and avoid nuns on Harleys’.
Friday, October 3, 2008
I have a theory. I believe that all candy corn, fruit cake, and valentines hearts in the entire world where made in the year 1867. An evil corporation set out to sell hyped up “candy” that they knew no one would actually be able to eat. Then with a brilliant marketing department they have been able to keep people buying these atrocities year after upset stomach two bottles of Pepto-Bismol soaked year. Then with a team of unpaid interns they scour the land fills collect the “candy” and are all set for the following year. How else can you explain opening a new bag of candy corn only to discover that it is already stale? Or biting into a rock hard candy heart just out of the pouch? And since we all know that no one actually eats fruit cake so that one is pretty self explanatory. For over a hundred years this evil corporation has duped us into buying and re-buying processed reprocessed crap and frankly I am tired of it. All to finance other horrible projects such as Lego Land (oh I hate you Lego Land) and probably the Muppet Show, but more on that later.