Wednesday, December 25, 2013
One day, I decided to do something that nobody in the history of the world had ever, ever done before.
But I couldn't think of anything, so I just watched TV for about twelve hours straight and ate fifteen or twenty Mexican and double Salisbury Steak TV dinners washed down with about a gallon of prune juice. Ha ha, just kidding about the prune juice.
The next day, I thought it would be a cute idea to strike out into the neigborhood and surrounding environs in search of the true meaning of Christmas. So I put on my cutest "searching for the true meaning of Christmas" Santa Claus outfit and skipped merrily out the front door.
WHAM!!! I ran smack dab into the mailman! With a gutteral groan, the old man flew backward over my porch railing into a mass of prickly thorn bushes and landed with a hefty thud.
"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, YOU BRAIN-DEAD OLD MORON!!!" I screamed at the prostrate figure as he struggled to his feet amidst a shower of letters and Christmas cards. "How dare you obstruct me when I'm on a mission to discover the true meaning of Chris--"
I caught myself just as my tirade was about launch into high gear. Realizing how sadly ironic this whole situation was, I controlled my anger and quickly turned it into sympathy and compassion for the poor mailman who, after all, wasn't entirely at fault. Helping him to his feet, I offered him a cheery "Merry Christmas, assh***!" and then kicked him squarely in the balls, plucking my mail from his hand as I shoved him down the sidewalk.
He staggered to his little jeep and presently weaved his way down the street whereupon he then crashed through a wooden fence and into someone's backyard swimming pool.
Restraining an impulse to chuckle at his screams for help, I demonstrated my empathy for others by wincing at the thought of how freezing cold that pool water must be before setting off down the sidewalk in the other direction. "True meaning of Christmas, here I come!" I sang at the top of my lungs as I skipped, swinging my lunch basket to and fro.
Presently I passed a church and happened upon some children who were setting up a display in the front yard. It was composed of some mannequins of people from the really old days, with robes and turbans and stuff, and a few farm animals like donkeys and things. They were set up under a small shed and huddled around a baby doll in a trough lined with hay.
"What the hell's all this crap?" I greeted them brightly, flashing my nicest smile.
They must've been an ill-tempered bunch, because they met my friendly greeting with undisguised hostility. "It's a Nativity scene, stupid!" one of them sneered. "Don't you know anything?"
With an admirable display of self-control, I replied nicely, "Yes, I know lots of things. For example, I know...THIS!"
With that, I dashed away and rounded the corner of the church, disappearing from their view. The children looked at each other and shrugged. When I came back into view, I was holding a super-soaker filled with finely-aged wolf urine.
The children's screams were like beautiful music to my ears as I drenched them thoroughly, making sure to give the slower ones a double dose as they struggled to escape. Then I danced around with each mannequin one at a time like a celebrity contestant on "Dancing With the Stars" before hurling it after the retreating figures, who were soaked to the skin with the wonderfully rancid wolf urine.
The baby mannequin I passed like a football, and boy oh boy was it ever a beaut of a pass! One of the kids made an awesome leaping catch which ended with him flying headfirst into a dumpster full of hog entrails behind a butcher shop. Six points for the home team!
When all the excitement had started to die down and my senses slowly returned to my fevered brain, I stopped and thought for a moment. Was this it? Had I discovered the true meaning of Christmas?
I lay down in the trough with my feet hanging over the sides and twiddled my thumbs, ruminating happily upon what an enlightening day it had been. People began to file past, observing me with a strange sort of fascination or repulsion or whatever--I can't really tell the difference sometimes.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them asked.
"I'm the true meaning of Christmas!" I answered brightly in a cute, elfin voice. "Now SHUT UP!!!"
Monday, December 2, 2013
(This is a sequel to "Porfle Vs. Irritating Sayings", which can be found HERE.)
Here are some more of the widely-used internet sayings that I find extremely irritating. If you use them around me, I will personally ask Reverend Ike to never pray for you to get a brand new Cadillac.
"Meh." This is used to denote world-weary indifference or snooty disapproval. Has anyone ever said "meh" to you in real life? No, because it's merely a literal approximation of the sound people make when they're world-wearily indifferent or snootily disapproving of something. Actually, it sounds more like "mmnnyahh", and when people say it they usually have a cranky-baby expression on their faces. The "mmnnyahh" sound is so whiny and infantile that when people type it on message boards, they shorten and tweak it to "meh", which they think looks better although they're wrong. It looks stupid. And it should be punched, kicked, or drenched with wolf urine.
The only person in history who could ever pull off the actual "mmnnyahh" sound without looking stupid was Edward G. Robinson. "All right, you mugs--from now on, we're gonna do things MY way, see? MMNNYAHH!" And the last time I saw Edward G. Robinson, he wasn't screwing around on some stupid message board. He was slapping people around, blowing cigar smoke in their faces, and shooting them for saying stuff like "meh" to him.
"M'kay." This is a word for idiots who want to express not just snooty disapproval, but sarcastically snooty disapproval. Mere wolf urine isn't enough to quell my burning hatred of this word--"m'kay" calls for more drastic measures, like being forced to watch every episode of "The Simple Life" on a big-screen TV with a theater-quality sound system turned up full blast, CLOCKWORK ORANGE-style.
If you type a comment on a message board and someone responds with "m'kay", you should consider them your mortal enemy for the rest of your life. Because even more than "meh", "m'kay" denotes a verbal wrist being limply flopped right in your face along with the full "mmnnyahh" expression, complete with eyeroll. Especially if it is followed by ellipses, like so: "M'kay..." (the ellipses are the literal equivalent of the eyeroll) or if the "m" is multiplied by a factor of three or four, as in: "Mmmm'kay..."
The final outrage-inducing coup de grace, of course, would be the addition of an actual "eyeroll" emoticon. Anyone who pulls the full "Mmmm'kay..." with eyeroll emoticon on you deserves a complete wolf-urine body wash, the total "Simple Life" forced-viewing ordeal, and to be interviewed by naked Larry King.
"Kthxbye." Okay, if this wasn't invented by some bubble-brained teenybopper somewhere, I'll eat my entire collection of Bruce Willis DVDs. "Kthxbye" is the internet equivalent not of the limp-wrist flop, but of the dismissive "talk to the hand"-style wave-off with a huge, pink bubble-gum bubble popped in your face.
If you regularly find yourself involved in message board debates in which your adversary subjects you to the infuriating step-by-step process of "meh", "mmmm'kay...", and "kthxbye", then you should hurl your computer monitor through the nearest window and become a lumberjack. Either that, or you should become a dreaded masked outlaw who rides into towns with six-guns blazing and robs banks and armored trucks while riding a buffalo.
"True dat." Now this sounds like a guy one. It's not as horrible as the preceeding ones, but it still fills me with rage. If something's true, just say "that's true." Saying "true dat" doesn't make what you say any cooler or any more valid. It just makes you look like a dope. Do you say "true dat" to people in real life? As in, "What's that you say, Brian? Oscar Wilde was brilliantly insightful? True dat." No, you don't. Why? Because you would look like a dope. If you said it to a girl you were trying to pick up, she would pop a huge, pink bubble-gum bubble in your face and say "kthxbye." Eventually, people would see you coming and say, "Meh, here comes the 'true dat' guy. If he says it again, let's kill him."
"FTW." Another guy one, definitely. Message board clowns who are arguing about what's totally the best example of whatever bullshit they're blabbing about will invariably resort to naming their own number one choice and then following it with a decisive "FTW", as though this somehow actually signified that their choice was the indisputable winner, which it most definitely doesn't you big fat twerp.
Best videogame? "Super Mario Ultimate Sloppy Whack-off FTW." Best new pop group? "Dippity Doofussy Douchebags FTW." Best TV show? "Family Guy FTW." That's right--they all love "Family Guy", even though it is the 100 percent biggest pile of steaming dog doo-doo ever. I'd like to gather everyone responsible for "Family Guy" in one place and do something horrendously punitive to them. I'm not sure what, but I am pretty sure it would involve copious amounts of wolf urine.
"Orly?" I'm adding this one at the last minute because I just thought of it. It can be inserted at any time during the above-mentioned process, as in:
"Wolf urine FTW."
I don't want to talk about those words anymore, because I'm down to my last Xanax and I don't want to lay awake all night fantasizing about orbital death-ray satellites.