Thoughts in my Head
March 30th, 1998 Posted in Quick BitsA good way to train in boxing is to cast a shadow of yourself on a wall, and then spar with it, seeing the way your body moves as you punch. This is called shadow boxing. An even better way is to tie a guy up so he can’t move, and just keep hitting him. This is called punching a tied-up guy.
I think you should be able to put an life insurance policy out on pets, because I’d have absolutely no problem with killing a gerbil.
If Isaac Newton were alive today, he sure would look stupid telling us all about gravity. Yeah, thanks for the tip, big guy.
I’m a firm believer that when you’re driving, it shouldn’t matter whether or not you’re drunk if you’re intentionally trying to hit people.
“Oh GOD!” she moaned. “You’re…so… good!” She’s right, I thought. I am pretty good. So why was she having sex with him, then? And couldn’t they keep it down a bit? I was trying to sleep.
To the rich man, getting a well-cooked meal is expected. To the poor man, any meal at all is a gift. Pathetic, right? Hey, let’s get back to talking about that well-fed rich guy. I wonder if he owns a jet or something. That would just smoke.
I had been under his mental control for days on end. His powers of suggestion and hypnotism were too much for me to overpower. I found myself forced against my will to do his every bidding. “Geez,” I said, “you sure are a good-at-mind-control person.” “I think the term you’re looking for,” he replied, “is Svengali.” Yeah, whatever, pretentious guy.
The crippled old hag wandered into the small village that afternoon. She pointed to the sky at a crow circling overhead. “That,” she hissed, “is the omen of your doom!” The villagers were shocked and afraid, even though they all knew the crow. The crow’s name was Mike.
It sure isn’t funny to see a guy in a wheelchair try to get up a flight of steps, when there isn’t a ramp. Even when I rocked around in the wheelchair I’d rented, flapping my arms around and making rocket noises, I couldn’t get a laugh.
I think I’d make a pretty good God, as long as all anyone ever prayed for was a good swift kick in the ass.
Sometimes, on a clear night, you can look out at all the billions of stars in the sky, and see how big the universe really is. Then your thoughts turn to this planet called Earth, and you think about all the billions of people all over the world. Then you realize that every one of those billions of people pees at least once a day, and you start thinking about all those billions of gallons of pee, and how could they possibly get rid of it all each and every day? And that’s usually when you decide never to drink tap water again.
If I had my say, I would have made it so Hitler went to Heaven instead of Hell. Think about it. In Heaven, everybody’d be giving him dirty looks and swatting him in the head for all eternity. In Hell, he’d just be getting high-fives all the time.
When the aliens first landed, everyone was afraid for their lives. By the time we realized the aliens only wanted peace and equality, it was too late. We had slaughtered them all. Except for a few, which we kept around as slaves.
People are always so impressed by my humanity when they discover how steadfastly opposed to the death penalty I am. I don’t see why. It’s my own ass I’m looking out for.
Why did Donald Duck adopt Huey, Dewie and Louie, instead of having his own kids? I don’t know, but I’d like to think it was because he killed their parents in a drug deal gone sour, and was forced by the courts to adopt them. Also, maybe Donald Duck was impotent.
How come when those circus guys drink gasoline, they can spit fire in a big plume, but whenever I try it, I have to get my stomach pumped?
If one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, then why is it no one ever wants to buy my cigarette wrappers and used condoms?
When I die, I hope I can get a coffin perfectly molded to my body, so it looks like a big giant me, only made out of wood. Then I could make a deal with the carpenter to carve me a six foot penis.
If you’re a doctor, and you know one of your patients is going to die soon, it must be really tempting to tell them they’re just fine, so they can live out the rest of their days happily. I would imagine it would also be pretty tempting to play with the corpse once they’re dead, and pose it for pictures and stuff.
It sure would be great if the meek did inherit the Earth. Because then I could just take it from them.
I guess the worst part of my trip to Mexico was when I found out that “cockfighting” didn’t really mean what I thought it did.
Who would have guessed that the summers of yesteryear would disappear so quickly? Well, if anyone did, I’ll bet it was Batman. He’s a detective.
If there were a billion monkeys typing at a billion typewriters, I’ll bet it wouldn’t be too long before one of them got sucked up into the paper spool, and all the other monkeys just laughed and laughed at that one dead monkey.
I’ll never forget that time I found that turtle, lying on its back, trying to right itself. And it suddenly occurred to me how senseless life sometimes is, and how helpless all creatures must feel. And then I remember camping out there for the week, just sitting there, watching that turtle die and rot. Man, that was a hoot.
Libraries would be a lot more fun if they thought it was real funny when you made sound effects to the book you were reading, instead of just making you leave and telling you not to come back.
I think if I was in a play, and one of my fellow actors suddenly farted really loudly on stage, I’d just pretend it was part of the play, and keep going. Although, if he kept farting for the rest of the play, in a long continuous stream of rancid gas, then I might have to tell the audience it wasn’t part of the play.
If I was an Olympic weightlifter taking steroids, and I had to pass a urine test, I bet a good way to fool them would be to drink pee beforehand.
If you’re being tried for something, and the court’s got a whole lot of evidence against you, and you’re probably going to go to jail, don’t just jump up and try to run away. It turns out they’re prepared for that kind of thing.
I don’t think there’s anything quite as comforting as hearing the laughter of children. Especially when they’re laughing at another child. I always enjoy that.
Of all the chess pieces on the board, the three that are most important to my style of playing are the rook, the bishop, and the Lego man that can move where ever it wants and is invincible.
You never see the bullet with your name on it. It’s not like I’m stupid enough to just leave them lying around or anything.
When the Pope gets to Heaven, does he still get to be the big God-to-humans liason guy? If it turns out he’s just like everyone else, I hope someone has the decency to pull him aside and kind of lay things out for him, so he doesn’t just storm in barking orders at everyone. That’d be really embarrassing.
I say, if someone can’t tell the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite, then maybe they don’t deserve to have it lifted up off them.
“Come on, eat the baby,” said the Devil. “Oh, just eat it. Come on, just eat the baby. No, it’ll be fine. No, really, no one’s gonna care. Come on, just eat the bab- FOOL! Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Man, I am so gullible.
The populace was shocked to find out that the hamburgers had been made from people all along. But later it was discovered that only clowns had been killed. And besides - the burgers were pretty tasty. So everyone just let on like they hadn’t heard about it.
If the government really didn’t want me to have sex with children, I’m sure they would have made a law about it by now. No, I mean about me specifically.
I find it kind of sad that some people can go their whole lives without ever really finding their calling in life. That’s why when someone tells me it’s ‘wrong’ to light buildings on fire, I just smile to myself.
I think it’s amazing that I live in a world where I can express myself without fear of censorship. I just wish everyone else would shut up.
If I was going to commit suicide, I think I’d jump off a building with little wings taped to my back. That way people wouldn’t think I was depressed, but inventive.
The light from the stars I saw that cold winter night was just reaching me, although the stars themselves had died out millions of years ago. I had seen to that.
If I ever became a super genius, I hope I wouldn’t be too big a person to really lord it over retarded people.
The mighty fish smashed his forehead against the side of the boat, again and again. “Don’t worry,” the old fisherman told the others, “As long as he doesn’t have laser beam capabilities, we’ll land this fish all right.” That’s when the first laser shot came. “Now what?” the skipper asked, but the old fisherman had disappeared into thin air, and was nowhere to be found. Later it was discovered he had just found a really good hiding place.
I sure hope that dull throbbing in my heart is just sadness, and not maggots or something.
If Sprinting Away Like a Titmouse ever becomes a deadly fighting style, I bet all those guys that tried to beat me up would just, like, feel a shiver run up their spine that they were lucky enough to escape my wrath with their lives.
“Look, just listen to me,” the psychiatrist said. “Screaming at everything all the time solves absolutely nothing.” I had no idea what he was talking about. A good screaming should fix his wagon.
When I was younger, I always used to pray before I went to bed every night. After a while though, when God never answered back, I got really depressed. To cheer me up, my dad snuck outside my window that night with a megaphone, and pretended he was God. This went on for years, and God would come and answer my prayers each and every night, and tell me how special I was. It always bugged me though, that later every night, God would sneak into my parent’s bedroom and fuck my mom real loud.
When I was really young, I thought it was really funny to run up to a grown up and punch them in the crotch. But man, I sure met my match when Uncle Pete came over that one day. I just kept pounding away at his crotch, but no matter how hard I hit him, he just laughed gently and patted my head. That’s because Uncle Pete didn’t have testicles or a penis.
When I was a kid, I really wanted a dog—but my parents gave me a hamster instead, to see if I could handle the responsibility. I hated that hamster, because I really wanted a dog. After a while though, despite myself I grew to love it. The years went by, and that hamster and I became best of friends. When it died, my parents said I could have a dog - but I said I wanted another hamster instead. My parents were so touched by my compassion they bought me a dog and a hamster. Of course, it ended up being too much responsibility, and after a while, the dog just ate the hamster. Still, yay! A dog!
“I’m pretty sure your dog doesn’t eat dogfood and poop out nails,” my Uncle Pete said. “If that’s true,” I said, “where did all these NAILS come from?” I held up the nails. “From the hardware store,” my Uncle Pete said. The HARDWARE STORE. DOG FOOD. DOGS. STORES. I was close to something big. I just knew it.
My dad wanted to teach me a lesson about responsibility, so he killed my dog. At least, he said it was a lesson in responsibility. Now I just think he didn’t like all that barking.
My father watched us play from the porch, as we ran back and forth across the yard playing Treasure Hunt with a map we’d made. “Help us find the treasure, daddy!” I yelled as I clutched the map. “No thanks,” he chuckled. “You kids go ahead.” I remember thinking how odd it was that he didn’t want to help us look for the treasure, since he was on welfare.
I remember when I was young, there was a little girl in my class named Suzie. Suzie had really long brown hair, and we always used to tug on it. That is, until that one day, when I accidentally tugged so hard that her head came right off, and all eight litres of her blood came gushing out of her stump in a shower of gore. We all agreed never to pull hair again.
My dad always used to insist I call my mom “bitch” instead of the traditional “mom”. It sounded odd at first, but eventually I got used to it. My dad lives alone now since the bitch died.
My dad used to work at an orphanage, and I think it really depressed him that so many kids didn’t have homes. So he’d always be bringing home a new brother or sister for me. Then he’d sell them, and buy expensive steak.
I always loved the circus as a child. My favourite ride was “Deep Sea Adventure,” where you’d put your head in this porcelain bowl, pull a lever, and “flush” water on top of your head. Of course, it was a good thing it was my favourite ride. It’s not like the big kids gave me much of a choice.
The best part of recess for me was when our gym teacher brought out the footballs for all the kids to play with. All the kids would pick up the footballs and start playing, and stop laughing at me because I was poor. “Look, Daddy!” I said, running into the room. “I dressed myself!” “No, you didn’t,” he replied calmly, reading his paper. He was right. I ran upstairs, hot tears welling in my eyes, and tore my how-to-dress answer sheet into little pieces. It was there I swore to myself that I would never cheat again.
Teenagers can be very cruel sometimes. I remember how me and my friends would wait by the bathroom, and call little Eddy Dreskin “homo” and “fag” because he was small and didn’t dress well. Then, still chuckling, we would all walk into the bathroom and ream each other’s assholes with our penises. And never once did the irony of it all occur to us, that we too weren’t all that fashionable in our choice of clothing and clothing accessories. Ah, to be so naive again.
I’d like to think that football was invented by one visionary man; a man who saw the skin of a pig lying on the ground, and was suddenly consumed with the idea that he should inflate that pig, run around with it tucked under his arm, and have a couple guys try to stop him.
Probably the worst part of being a King is having to sentence someone to death. If I had to hang some poor guy, I’d tell him that I’d like to let him go, except that “I’m kind of in the doghouse right now.” Then I’d cough and point at the Queen.
It doesn’t bother me at all when the scientists laugh at me. I say, let’s just let time be the judge whether dinosaur skeletons were left for us to pore over and examine (dull), or to tie up and use in merry puppet shows. (fun!)
If I ever built a time machine, I think I’d put a big “evil” button on the control panel that didn’t do anything. Then when me and my scientist guys would go into the future, I’d pretend I didn’t notice when they all started looking at it. One of the guys would finally get real curious and press it, and I’d start screaming “NO! NO!! What have you done?” , and pretend like I was really upset that he’d pressed it. That way, no matter what horrible things might happen to us for the rest of our lives, we could always glare at him and go, “Yeah, thanks, Captain Curious.”
If I was the leader of a country, and I sort of dropped a bomb on another country, and people were saying that maybe I shouldn’t have dropped it, I bet a good excuse would be to tell everyone that they asked me to drop it on them. “You can call them and ask, if you don’t believe me,” but they really couldn’t, because everyone would be dead. If that didn’t work, I could always act innocent, and maintain that I was merely being sympathetic to a country whose compressed uranium supplies were sadly lacking.
We all have our secrets that no one will ever know. All of us except for Glenn Shoemaker, who’s still afraid of the dark, pretends to love fine wines even though he doesn’t know the first thing about them, and has a small penis.
Is it morally right to sell your child to someone for a lot of money? I mean, even if you know the kid’s not worth it? Caveat emptor, right?
You can lead a horse to water, but you sure can’t grab it by the mane and try to drown it without attracting the attention of those ‘liberal, non-horse-killing’ types.
The beautiful tragicomic thing about the human race is 1) their basic trust in each other and 2) that they never ever in a million years expect you to pull a big shovel out of your pocket and club them in the face with it.
If you had a million monkeys at a million typewriters, and you could wait an infinite number of hours, eventually all the monkeys would get hit by lightning. Then, if you taped it, you could edit out all the dull parts and put together a seriously funny half-hour show.
Sometimes I look at my kids, with their Playstations and camcorders, and I just have to smile. When I was a kid, we didn’t need these kinds of gadgets to have fun. No, we had a little something called vodka.
Inside every fat person is a skinny person and a hundred pounds worth of little fat guys trying to get out.
Sometimes we get so used to things, we don’t even think about them anymore. Take coffee, for instance: everyone at work drinks it. But does anyone ever stop to think that what they’re drinking is just hot water filtered through ground-up beans, then stirred to a froth by the janitor’s dick when nobody’s looking?
Is jail really a deterrent for criminals? Maybe. It has to be better than capital punishment, anyway, which is no deterrent at all. To anybody who thinks different, I have two words: thief ghosts.
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