Saturday, June 25, 2005

No Sugar Tonight

It’s been said before that Mother Nature is a mad scientist. Burton Cummings translated it best:

“'Cause it's the new Mother Nature taking over
It's the new splendid lady come to call
It's the new Mother Nature taking over
She's getting us all, she's getting us all”

After the latest week’s worth of news clips and reels, it is now my position that mankind is heading directly into an impending shit storm from which he will not walk away unscathed. All good things must come to an end, I’m afraid – and so shall we.

The signs of the apocalypse are all around us as Mother Nature is rising up against us, and soon we’ll be reduced to being her bitches. And if you think times are tough for prisoners at Gitmo, just wait until Mother Nature is wielding the authority. She’ll reduce back to mere single celled amoebas and flush our asses back to the Cambrian period.

There’s two-faced kittens being born in Oregon, crazed deer running amuck on Midwest college campuses, catfish are taking to land after rainstorms, super raccoons are prowling the streets of Toronto by night, and giant panda bears are finally being successfully impregnated in captivity thanks to artificial insemination (okay, we lent a hand on that one – literally. Somebody had to stroke off the male panda, right?). It would seem as if nature was preparing herself for some ultimate final battle with mankind. And what are we doing to safe protect ourselves from this impending Jumanji-style Jihad?

We’re becoming even stupider.

Instead of learning how to appease the angry forces around us, we’re glued to the television set absorbing the stunted philosophical ranting of Tom Cruise on the subject of drugs, depression and Brooke Shields. Who gives a shit what Tom Cruise thinks about anything? Sure he’s banging Katie Holmes, but this doesn’t give him the right to get all preachy and offer commentary on society and the greater good of humankind! He’s just a fucking actor – and an overpriced shitty one at that! I wish we would just jettison his ass into deep outer space; never to be seen again. However, with my luck, his DNA would survive somewhere beyond the outer reaches of the galaxy and spawn a whole new race of alien Scientologists that will one day return to Earth and enslave the entire planet.

It’ll be 24hr ‘Days of Thunder’ marathons for everybody. Now there’s a fate worse than death!

Likewise, we focus our energies on ridiculous, meaningless, ill-fated PR stunts like trying to erect the worlds largest popsicle in Manhattan’s Union Square. Why the fuck would we ever need a 16-tonne frozen treat in the first fucking place? When the war of all wars is upon us, what are we going to do – drown our enemies in a sticky tide of kiwi-strawberry-flavored juice? This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever heard!

I just don’t understand how we’re managed to survive this long as it is. But you can roll down the windows of your parked cars and stop sucking carbon monoxide through a garden hose – we still have a chance!

I’m not about to start playing Greensleeves on the bagpipe yet!

I say we put Jack LaLanne in charge of the Earth’s defenses before it’s too late! Not only will he live forever, but he’ll juice our lazy asses back to maximum efficiency before we’re completely eviscerated into mere meat molecules for good at the hands of a killer mutant aardvark.

The Godfather of Fitness at almost 90 years old, can tow a huge oceangoing freighter with his teeth, and word has it that he has fully functional lightsaber for a penis. LaLanne fought in the Battle of Thermopylae in the year 480 BC. Three hundred Spartans assisted him by holding his incredibly massive testicles while he single-handedly routed the Persian army.

LaLanne is not only a man, but also a state of mind and being, only attainable through the consumption of a specific combination of precisely incremented narcotics, transmission fluid, and mango fruit. He is the only man who knows the correct combination, and he'd rather impale himself on a rusty pole than tell you. He is the cause of gravity. He picked 9.8 m/s for the gravitational constant because he deemed it to be "a fucking awesome number." And that was that!

Jack once gave a woman an orgasm so intense she invented three new branches of mathematics, discovered the first half of the true name of god and now only needs two and half hours of sleep a week. She can also now cook a damn good English Breakfast that will immediately take seven pounds off your ass, and never breaks an eggs yolk.

This is the guidance we need to continue our higher existence, and remain just one rung above all the other species on the planet's evolutionary ladder!

I know right now, I’m in no shape fend off attacking natural forces. I have the body of a sack of walnuts, and I couldn’t outrun a pregnant beaver in a 100m wind sprint – I need reconditioning.

I, like the rest of mankind, have become weak and vulnerable. We no longer have the good street smarts in this life to boil an egg. We need to go back to our roots, destroy all our ‘Darkness’ albums and do away with our boxed hams, and once again embrace life as we used to – as the temperamental shebeast that she is!


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