We Will Become Unicorns

There's a unicorn at the end of every rainbow, and to ride it one must follow the rain to the exact spot where it meets the sun. It's an oasis in a sandbox, atop a mountain and overlooking the ocean. It's where birds sing instead of chipping, where bears hibernate even during the summer, and squirrels help young girls braid their hair.

And the unicorn stands tall and majestic, living proof that everything eventually falls into place, like a reward for good behaviour and effort.

I have been that unicorn for some, and others have been it for me. But to be your own unicorn, for yourself, is a gift only you can strive for.

It was Thanksgiving in Canada yesterday, and while it's good to be humbled by where we have come as a species, to look back and be grateful for all the help we've received in our accomplishments, it's also good to keep in mind the work that still lay ahead.

Some of us are zebras, some are studs, some are ponies and many are donkeys. Becoming unicorns might require some help, a little bit of input from the outside world, but it's also work one has to do on their own.

I want to be a unicorn again. For someone else, maybe, but mostly for myself.

And, yes, someone dared me to write something with unicorns as the main subject matter. Doesn't make it any less true.

Free Fappy

With so much fake news around nowadays, and with real news sometimes less believable than any fiction possibly could be, it's increasingly hard to tell which is which. If anything, though, we can praise this piece for either being an unreal piece of double-dipped irony or a well-executed, multiple-tiered work of fiction...

It's a great and hilarious story when told via this post about Arizona Governor Jan Brewer granting a pardon... but I'd rather start chronologically instead. Just because.

So, for starters, there appears to be a Christian anti-masturbation group called Stop Masturbation Now (the website's humour-meets-racism tone should cue us in about this being fiction, but 'Murca bein' 'Murca, you never know). You may laugh at there being such a thing, which is said to be ''federally funded programs designed to teach both children and adults about the dangers and consequences of masturbation.''

Secondly, Stop Masturbation Now apparently has a mascot, Fappy The Anti-Masturbation Dolphin. Hes, Fappy, as in ''fap fap fap'', the noise the internet says it makes when you self-indulge. Or, as Fappy puts it:

They need to stop playing on the Devil’s playground, stop pounding their Devil stick or ringing the Devil’s doorbell - See more at: http://nationalreport.net/fappy-the-dolphin-arrested-for-public-masturbation/#sthash.KAAkxYWM.dpuf

They need to stop playing on the Devil’s playground, stop pounding their Devil stick or ringing the Devil’s doorbell.

Or so he was screaming... when he was arrested for jerking off in public. (Irony #1)

He didn't mind going to jail, though, because:

I want to apologize to all my amazing fans out there, I love and miss you all. You have my word that I will make the most of this bad situation. Jail is just a hotbed for self-rape and immoral acts. I plan to do everything in my power to stop the masturbation currently happening in this jail.

That's kind of where they lost me, but at least I still found more humour along the way, such as this quote from Lonnie Childs, his boss at Stop Masturbation Now:

Thanks to your tax dollars, Fappy has helped tens of thousands of adults and children learn to live a masturbation-free lifestyle. During his visits to schools around the world, Fappy has collected thousands of signatures from children promising to never masturbate; he has done great things. (...) He’s passionate about his work, he loves being Fappy, he loves the kids. They even have a nickname for him, they call him the tickle monster. (...) I have activated my prayer app and I ask each and every one of you to keep Fappy in your prayers until this incident is resolved. Praise Fappy!

Of course your tax dollars would go to a religious organization whose main point of contact with kids would, uh, well, make physical contact with kids! That's never led to any trouble - ever!

And so, as a double-dose of irony, comes the story about the Governor's pardon, in a state that rarely gives any. And her comments on the case:

I did a lot of soul searching before making this decision. We all make mistakes in life. When it comes down to it, we must ask ourselves, would a person like Paul Horner be better for society locked up behind bars or outside helping the children of this great country learn about the dangers of masturbation? I think the question answers itself.

Again, in a country where Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann can get elected, perhaps some people and elected official really think masturbation is dangerous, and we should really ''think about the kids''...

Also, Horner? Really? And here's what Mr. Horner had to say upon his being pardoned:

This makes Fappy® very happy. To be honest I would have been fine either way, in jail, out of jail, it doesn’t matter; my message always stays the same. The prisons in Arizona are just a hotbed of self-rape, that I had planned to fix. Maybe I’ll get a chance to do this the next time I get arrested.

Yes, THE NEXT TIME.

Stay tuned for the sequel!

August 14th, 2012

You don't want stories anymore, you want moods. You've heard all you'd had to hear, and you've read, well... next to nothing, but at least you've seen the movies. Movies with hot, brooding fake-alpha males, skinny chicks with long hair and cocaine problems, and plot holes bigger than the Milky Way.

They can't make new drugs fast enough, we have to rely on what we can find at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

The foundations of our cities are crumbling, a reflection of our societies' systems, corrupt to the bone, slave to the high and mighty dollar, reliant on lies and the status quo.

You work yourself to exhaustion for a mere two days of rest during which you have to gather supplies to last another week and perhaps make time for an infinite percentage of your loved ones, between relaxation time, sleep, meals and Life.

Your life is as meaningless as that of a bug.

And yet here we are, interconnected, sharing our experiences, comparing. They gave us this web to distract us, but eventually we'll dig through the porn and news and recipes and pictures of cats and find what we were looking for.

It looks like it'll be sunny today. I think I'm going back to bed.

Dirty Old Dive Bar

One step in the poorly-lit bar and it already reeks of their sex. The walls are icky, slimy as snot but a translucent grey, like dying fish had been glued to it and never quite died but the stench intensified.

And I wouldn't mind it at all if it weren't for the vein in my left hand begging for the chance to rip my skin open and explode - I couldn't bear contracting the infection of dead cum without having at least fucked a 6 or a 7. Or a trashy 19-year old.

I keep wondering about the shit that goes on in there when I'm not around, seeing as they usually devolve pretty quickly even in my presence. And the shitty music never helps, either, fucking cock-rock classics of the 80s, country-rock classics of the 70s, nothing modern, nothing new - a fit representation of its patrons, who never would have seen the past 20 years if it weren't for the invention of penicillin.

Drunk fucking zombies on their automated poker machines, barely pausing for cigarette breaks, drinking 3% beer 'cause it's a dollar cheaper than the regular-strength stuff that, oddly enough, also tastes like stale piss.

This is the minor leagues of daytime drinking, populated with a few youngsters, sure, but mostly should-be-retired-by-suicide dreamers holding on to the last parcel of their youth, with memories of that one day in their life where it didn't rain shit on their heads, where maybe the right whore was a decent enough actress to make them believe in Love for even a second, their first used car, the first time seeing a plane in the sky, playing with a dog, or that first welfare check that seemed like so much money.

These dreams aren't broken, they're rusted, mouldy, holding on for their fucking life with fucking duct tape - but they're still there, alive. Working. Well enough to get from point A to point D in a haze, barely flipping over a few tables, perhaps with a black eye or two, but fucking standing.

And that's why the dried-up beer, the vomit, the blood - some of it clearly menstrual - and the cum add layer upon layer of goo on the tables, floors and walls, and why we all keep coming back. Hope.

Terrible Marketing Ploy

So you've noticed all these huge earthquakes of late, right?

California, Haiti, now Chile's 8.8, so strong that it changed the earth's axis and we've lost 1.26 microsecond every day.

All just about when the shitty movie 2012 is set to come out on DVD...

Sony might be causing these, killing all those innocent poor people just to sell copies of their DVDs. Sick bastards.

What This Picture Looks Like To Me

Mr Cowboy, meet Mr Classy.
One of them looks Presidential.
Guess Who's Coming To Fix My Fuck-Ups?



Bush: You know, Mr. Bama, or can I call you B.O.B., or Barack O, or just O? Hey, what does that 'O' in your middle name stand for, anyway? I thought your middle name was Hussein, or did my team just make that up?

Obama: Actually, Sir, my last name is ''Obama'', it's just one word.

Bush: Huh... Really? Go figure. Hey, are you going to mind that most of this room is all white, or will you have it redecorated? 'Cause my wife tells me it needs to stay Presidential, whatever that means.

Obama: Sir, really, I haven't thought of how the room should look, more about how to use what it represents to get my point accross when I'm sitting in it.

Bush: You'll see, it's an easy job. Heck, I did it for 8 years and barely remember the names of 5, maybe 6 people I've met from other countries. Did you know that most of our imports come from other countries? Those guys kept reminding me, some of them are pretty good negotiators...

Obama: Yes, sir, I've met a few of them on my recent tour of Europe.

Bush: Europers, those are crazy fuckers. You never know who's in charge, they change Presidents every year and add new states to its members all the time; it can get pretty confusing.

Obama: Uh, yes. I'll take note of that.

Bush: Heh heh. Hey, this is where Bill did the thing with the cigar. And here's where we hide them, just in case you wanna, you know?

Obama: Uh, no, thank you.

Bush: And over there's the only spot in the room that's shielded from cameras, it's where I go to pretend I'm reading the newspaper.

Obama: Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Hey, do you mind if I try the chair out for a second?

Bush: Boy, you best not start being too presumptuous now... You're lucky I stole elections myself, or I'd have you locked up for messing up the promise I made John McCain when I kicked his ass in 2000.