I’m hearing quite a bit about sex addiction lately. Now, I have to stop right here and give a quick disclaimer. I grew up in a house full of drunks, drug addicts and generally insane people. I don’t subscribe to that whole “addiction is a crippling illness” bullshit (I’ll get to that in a bit). I bring this up because I look at the people who are supposed sex addicts and just roll my eyes.
Sex addiction, according to Psychcentral.com, is “a progressive intimacy disorder characterized by compulsive sexual thoughts and acts.” “The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders, Volume Four describes sex addiction, under the category ‘Sexual Disorders Not Otherwise Specified,’ as ‘distress about a pattern of repeated sexual relationships involving a succession of lovers who are experienced by the individual only as things to be used.’ According to the manual, sex addiction also involves ‘compulsive searching for multiple partners, compulsive fixation on an unattainable partner, compulsive masturbation, compulsive love relationships and compulsive sexuality in a relationship.’”
At least they have enough taste to not insist it’s a kind of disease. Let me tell you something I know about disease from the viewpoint of a biochemist. Cancer, leukemia, rheumatoid arthritis, etc., are all diseases. You can take some mitigating steps in your life (good diet, exercise, not smoking) to try to avoid them. However, sometimes, despite all your better efforts, Mother Nature decides that you will get a disease. There is nothing you can do about it. She/Fate/God/What Have You makes the decision and you get the disease. There’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.
There is a whole WORLD of difference between getting a disease and acting like a goddamn whore. And that’s all you are if you’re a sex addict. Male or female (especially if you’re male, I’m sick of that term only being applied to women), if you fuck anything that moves, you’re a goddamn whore.
Look familiar sex addicts? No, it's not your reflection...
Sex addiction seems to be limited to the realms of the rich, famous and affluent. Let’s face it; only those types can work the stroll all day and not have to worry about being back before their lunch break is up. The rest of us just get to listen to these dicktards whine all day about how hard they have it and how they’re truly sorry and how they have to get back to country club rehab.
What they really need to do is just shut the fuck up. Seriously. You’re a goddamn whore, so stop making excuses for your ho shit because nobody’s buying it, least of all me. Now, put your dicks back in your pants, stop your fucking whining and pull your shit together. Nobody feels sorry for you.
Oh, and stay the hell off my furniture.
I'm sure there's hidden consequences to your little "disease." One of them will NOT be pus on my sofa.
After all your ho shit, there’s no saying what kind of dick gangrene, crotch critters or jungle rot you have going on down there. I really don’t want to know. I will tell you one thing, you better stay the hell off my furniture because I’m really not in the mood to burn the sofa. If I do, I’ll make sure you’re still on it at the time. There’s nothing like the purifying power of fire, I always say.
One of my old high-school friends decided to give me the boot off her friends list. It’s a bittersweet moment, because I looked forward to reconnecting after all this time. The thing is, when I bumped into her again, even if it was in the virtual sense, things were a hell of a lot different than what I expected. For one thing, I found out my friend not only moved to the southern US, she fell right into the lifestyle. Yes, the pretty well-grounded friend I knew all these years grew up, became a right-winger and decided to vote Republican. And now, she decided to quit that bitch who became the typical Californian liberal, commie, pinko hippie.
Well that sucks. I’d say I’m sorry, but, I’m only sort of sorry. I wish it could have been a fond reunion after all these years. It wasn’t. Lesson learned: Life looks like this:
What to do, what to do....?
Ever wonder what happens to people over time that they end up making the batshit decisions they do? Yeah, I do to. I guess a life of prayer, worship, fear and passing off bitterness and disappointment as “God’s will” is the ideal life for some. I wonder why some of us interpret every little shitty thing in life as a wonderful, joyful test of faith and God’s love, and others, no names *cough, cough* say, “Fuck it,” and move on. I don’t know what happened between then and now. I only know that I’m a blasphemous heathen no longer worthy of that friendship. That’s the self-righteous, self-serving, good, holy Christians for you.
On a side note, it irks me that I’m supposed to accommodate everyone’s batshit beliefs in the name of tolerance and open-mindedness. I have to tiptoe and self-censor lest I offend the faithful, fragile and delicate. Mention that I really don’t hold truck with any gods and I’m targeted for prejudice, scorn and derision. Funny how tolerance only needs to work in one direction, isn’t it?
You had to see this coming. Don't panic, he's only a minor one.
That’s my good friend Ronwe. Now, I know you are all writing him off as a small-time player in the grand scheme of things, but give him a chance. This is the one guy who makes all our lives miserable. See, this guy is the demon of knowledge. Yes, there’s a demon of knowledge, and if you ever regretted knowing anything, you’ve met him. He’s looking over your shoulder the very minute you realize that you lived, learned, got that unfortunate education and now moved on. When you base your opinions on facts, don’t believe everything you hear in church and stop praying because no matter how shitty anything gets, no amount of wailing to the invisible presence in the sky is going to change it; he comes for a visit. He also leaves with your high school friend who now thinks you’re an evil bastard.
At least nobody tried to convert me to something this time. They just tucked their tail in and left like an alley cat after the food’s gone. Thank Ronwe for a small favor.
Thanks to the graces of social media I can now travel 3,000 miles from where I grew up, look back, and wonder what the hell happened there. Why do some of us become indoctrinated and others do not? I don’t know the answer, but it’s amazing how many people who claim to be such good friends later end up throwing my ass to the curb when they find out I didn’t grow up to be as gullible and superstitious as they are. The joys and pains of leaving small town, USA. Look, I took the one path. It may have not been the road less traveled, but that’s okay. I met a a lot of swell folks that didn’t get upset because I don’t live up to unrealistic standards set 20 years ago.
Okay, enough downers for one day. Because I’m such a heathen, I’m treating you to an Amanda Palmer video. It’s so catchy, I’m thinking of completely abandoning all hope of being saved in favor of a pasty featuring little felted bunnies.
I had the misfortune of visiting the mall recently, and it never ceases to amaze me how people just lose their damn minds when faced with the modern retail environment. Well, let me back up the truck a few feet here to testify that Americans have just lost their damn minds period. Americans fall into one of three categories: fundamentalist, indifferent or “spiritual.” What is “spiritual”? Well…I don’t know exactly. What’s worse is that all these “spiritual” people don’t know either. The conversation goes something like this:
Me: “I don’t believe in much these days except the growing power of American plutocracy and gravity. Both pretty much have you screwed in the end.”
Other Person: “You’re so damn negative. There are so many reasons to be happy and grateful. You just have to have faith.”
Me: “Faith in what?”
Other Person: “Well…you know… faith. You have to believe things are going to get better.”
Me: “Against all evidence to the contrary? Sounds like a profoundly dumb strategy to me. Besides, which god is actually going to beam down here and fix this shit?”
Other Person: “God isn’t going to ‘beam down’ here. But you have to have faith. I mean, I may not believe in any particular god, but I am very spiritual.”
Me: “Spiritual? Is that like believing in ghosts or something?”
Other Person: “No, it means having faith. You know…being…spiritual.”
Me: “So you believe in ghosts then?”
Other Person rolls eyes: “No. It has nothing to do with ghosts or God. You just have to be spiritual.”
Me: “Define spiritual.”
Other Person who is now clearly frustrated with my apparent stupidity in the face of fuzzy and undefined logic: “You know…it’s…spiritual. It’s about spirituality. It means that you’re not tied to any religion, but you’re, you know…spiritual.”
Shyeah. Still waiting on that definition. Somebody call me when you come up with that. “Spiritual” is another one of those vague bullshit terms people use to describe fuzzy feely stuff they don’t know how to articulate and can’t really defend on rational grounds. And I must confess I am a total bastard if you confront me with this.
So, finally I’m getting to the point. I was in the mall minding my own damn business trying to buy tea. I shop at Teavana because, well, I like tea. I’m rather a fan, and working around people from the UK has only inflamed this very un-American tendency. I like to buy my loose leaf specialty teas and go home where I proceed to brew them. I enjoy tea. Here’s a picture from my local Teavana:
Mmmmm. Tea. Someday I’ll be gainfully employed and actually buy a cast iron pot.
There’s a lot of distraction happening at the tea store, not the least of which is the same pack of anonymous bimbos that manages to show up every time I’m in there. These bitches assault me relentlessly whenever I go there. I’ve been screamed at for taking somebody else’s free sample of tea. (There were a paltry 20 cups on the tray, but apparently I took “hers.” I’m guessing that was the last good one in the bunch.) I’ve been shoved through the store so somebody’s kid could look at the blooming tea when my fat ass was in the way.
It is rather fascinating, but I think the adult was projecting her enthusiasm on the disinterested kid.
Then there’s the worst of the worst: the spiritual idiots. See, Teavana isn’t just about leaves, it’s about atmosphere. I can’t blame them for pulling out all the stops in staging, even if they erect a pseudo-altar in the middle of the store.
I think he’s supposed to get flowers or offerings instead. Poor Buddha. Americans have turned his ass out in the worst way possible and there’s not a goddamn thing any of us can do about it.
Bitch pushes past me and starts gushing about how coming to this store is one of the most “spiritual” things she does. I’m sure it is. I’m also sure that if you’re so fucking shallow and thoughtless that a retail display is a religious experience, you’re probably still trying to figure out who turns out the light in the fridge when you close the door. Yet there she is, spewing out bullshit about how she is sooooooooo deeply spiritual that a ceramic Buddha in a retail outlet can move her. That’s not spiritual, that’s bullshit and lip service to that idiotic American fixation with faith. I can buy liking the display, but this bitch ain’t a saint walking among insects and you can’t buy a deeper connection to the universe in Teavana. It just never ceases to amaze and amuse me how attached we Americans are to paying lip service to some religion–any religion just to fit in. I guess it’s all part of the culture of forced and false positivity, but I still can’t seem to choke it down like the rest of you. You can’t buy enlightenment in the tea store. No, really, you can’t, and neither could she. Stop making excuses and justifications and accept this. If you find shopping spiritual, you need a new set of priorities. Possibly an exorcism or something.
Now, if she said that in the liquor store, that would have been a completely different matter. Hell, the liquor store is just rife with spirits. If you can’t get in touch with somebody or something in there; there really is no hope for you. If you claim to be able to find God in the bottom of a bottle of 50 year old scotch, I can get on board with that.
I don’t have much faith in anything these days, but I know the world is going to hell in a hand basket (metaphorically at least). It’s no secret I have no love for fundamentalists, but it blows my mind clean out the back of my skull to find out that other religious authorities have no use for fundamentalism either. Funny and amazing how this is coming out of a Carmelite/Notre Dame order. Rock on, sister.
It takes a nun to speak profoundly and truthfully about the state of modern religion. Quick disclaimer: I don’t have any real faith, but I also don’t have any real fear of God either. It’s like the end of Angels In America: if God does return, after leaving us to suffer for a century, we should sue the bastard. Sue the bastard for walking out. How dare He?
Fundamentalists and TEA party idiots want to drag us backward to a time when we had a literal interpretation of the Bible and follow it as though life itself depended on it. What’s sad is that not even ancient scholars thought religious texts were the definitive authorities on society, biology or ethics. After centuries of trying to advance, people are now in hysterics because we’re falling prey to the evils of modern technology, science and historical accuracy.
This can’t be the fight of rationalists and humanists alone. There has to be others willing to help the poor and disadvantaged in the country, or at the very least put out a fire burning somebody’s house to the ground. Yes, once again it’s the Christians, Rethuglicans, Fundamentalists, and Corporate Apologists saying that it’s perfectly okay to condone human suffering just so long as the rich get richer and the powerful stay that way. The rest of us can go back to the hell created for us by assholes touting the values of a “good Christian society and ‘family values’.”
Fundamentalism is the fear God. It’s the fear of truth, the fear of humanity and the fear of not being able to live up to your own ideals. It’s the false sense of moral superiority that comes from knowing you’re always right and there’s no room for disagreement or negotiation. It’s taking delight in the suffering of others and smugly declaring the victim deserves what he or she gets. This is the good and holy world where the victims have the good fortune of answering for their “crimes” and getting the divine suffering they so richly deserve.
Fuck you, asshole. I hope the next time it’s you stuck in a burning building and we’re all too busy praying to be bothered with getting your ignorant ass out.
I’m a total social media addict, and I understand they struggle really, really hard to have standards. The problem is I’m not sure what the hell those standards actually are. Now, this isn’t me pulling something out of my ass, this is Facebook’s own standards as outlined by them:
• No nudity or other sexually explicit content
• No content that contains hate speech or directly attacks an individual or group
• No content that contains self harm or excessive violence
• No content that contains illegal drug use
• Users are supposed to be the minimum age of 13 years. Now, why there’s so much more discernment in a 13 year old as opposed to an 11 year old, they don’t explain.
Hmmm. So, where does that “Pot Island” app come in? I guess since you’re only a grower, and theoretically not a user, pot is okay. I’m on board. Though, truth be told, I’d rather use as well. After all, who else is supposed to quality control the product?
I’m off on a tangent again. I need to get right to the point. I want you to meet my nemesis, and the demon in charge of accusers, liars, interrogators, and interestingly enough, willful ignorance.
Sorry, I couldn’t get his most recent DMV photo or mugshot. I swear those idiots on The Smoking Gun never post anything important.
Astaroth guided the inquisitors, he lives in the hearts of those who think they have the right to judge others and most importantly, he tells us that evidence doesn’t matter. Make a snap judgment based in fear and ignorance; it’s okay as long as you do it with conviction. Notice any sort of trend here among the demons? You’re right! They all have some jacked up looking hound with them and they never wear any clothes. This brings me to a photo recently banned from Facebook.
Okay, I understand, the good folks at Facebook banned it because it displayed the dreaded penis. Yes, I know that we will all die if we see a penis, or possibly faint at the very least. The human race has declined dramatically to a paltry 6 billion people because the penis is soooooooooooooooooooo damn offensive and frightening that nobody can bear the sight of it. That’s not the point. The point is; where are the standards?
You see, this photo protests the Catholic Church’s continued attacks on homosexuals and points out that thousands of lives have been lost over the past few centuries because of attitudes toward homosexuality. (It’s about to happen again, by the way, click here to learn about Uganda’s “Kill the Gays” bill, brought to you courtesy of the hate-mongering American evangelists. Purpose-driven life my aching ass. Is your purpose to get innocent people killed? Good, you just made Jesus happy then.)
Here, let me lighten the mood a minute. Here’s my happy little avatar:
Seriously, I look EXACTLY like this in real life, including the tiara. The only thing missing is a 40.
What standards? They flagged the photo due to nudity. Fair enough, that’s their policy. Of course, they’ll turn right around and gladly allow people to start pages praying for the death of the U.S. president, sites promoting Sharia law (go ahead, honor kill your daughter, that’s what Allah wants), and at least 100 Christian fundamentalist sites that promote their particular brand of venomous hatred for gays, non-believers, the president, any non-white person and contraception/STD prevention. NO, they do not openly and explicitly advertise that. However, if you scroll down to read the posts of the trolls inhabiting these sites, you will see plenty of statements that begin with “I don’t hate gays BUT…,” “I’m not saying that promoting condom use is wrong BUT…” “I’m not racist BUT…”
But nothing, asshole. You’re a homophobic, backward-ass racist who’s promoting the spread of HIV and other STDs. Now, shut the fuck up, because I’ll gladly look at a thousand penises today before I listen to your stupidity, hatred and ignorance. Yes, I’m fully aware that I’m much more stupid than you because I know how to use proper English and grammar, but that’s just a character flaw I’m willing to live with.
Okay, time to ditch the girly-girl, we’re going to war.
Look, if you’re concerned about obscenities, nudity and graphic content because you have kids; that’s one thing. You and I both know that as the parent, it’s your job to turn the fucking computer off or close your kid’s account. Yes, I’m one of those bastards that oversimplifies things by making you take responsibility as the adult in the relationship. It is just that simple. If that content offends you, block that group or individual from your feed. Better yet, do us all a favor and grow up. But do not give me any stupid bullshit about “family values” or “friendly communities” when you will gladly host the groups promoting hate, intolerance and violence, especially when you do it under the guise of religion.
This is your responsibility, not mine, and certainly not a corporation's. Facebook doesn’t have to be an uneven-handed nanny. YOU have to step up and make a decision for yourself.
I hate double standards. If you’re going to ban a group or photo because of a picture of a scary penis, maybe you want to take a look at what’s really offensive here. Oh, wait, I guess if you hate in the name of Jesus, it’s okay after all. The rest of us at least have our intellectual integrity intact. Oh, and if you’re wondering where that photo came from, it’s from the world renown photographer LaChapelle. Click the name if you want your mind blown. Listen to the Old-Tyme Gospel Hour if you still want to be a whiney little four-year-old crybaby. Again, the choice is always yours.
I need to go off on a rant here, and it’s one I’ve visited many times before. This is not the first time I’m kicking this horse, and it certainly won’t be the last. I want you all to look at something. I want you to see the wicked, wicked enemy of Americans everywhere:
Oh, I’ve come face to face with him before. Nice guy, he’s the one that tends to bring the cheap tequila and drink everyone else’s top-shelf anything.
What’s wrong? You don’t recognize him? He’s not the Taliban, he’s not a Muslim cultural center a few blocks away from where the World Trade Center once stood, he’s not the secret socialist in your midst, and he’s not even the evil gay agenda. Who is it then? Well, that guy is Asmodeus, and if you believe the politicians and religious nutjobs that want to run your life while claiming to want to keep the government out of your personal business, he is a very, very bad man. (You can tell by the dog. If he was a good guy, he’d definitely own a Dachshund instead. Only good people own doxies.)
Why fear Asmodeus? Well, for one thing he’s the lord reigning over the second ring of hell. Another good reason to fear him is that he is the official demon of lust. Oh, yes, fear him indeed. After all, we all know that Americans don’t have sex, and if for some strange reason they do, they only have it in missionary position after they get married. We don’t endorse or promote sex, except in every advertisement, television show, movie and song known to mankind. We are a chaste and upright nation.
Denial is a river in Egypt.
No, since I’m a scientist and a skeptic and allowed to confront the demon haunted word head on, I’d like to make a profound statement. Human beings are fucking. There, I said it. No, I’m not going to be polite about this, find a nicer term, talk about how it should be loving and romantic, or waste time making a euphemism. Humans in general and Americans specifically are fucking. Okay, I’m going to leave you for a minute with your shock and awe, and then I’ll get back to it. In the mean time, enjoy this. When you’re ready, you can meet me down below.
Okay. Walk it off? Feel better? Good. Now, let’s get back to the important shit. People are fucking. There’s no getting around this, and I think we need to overcome our prudish behavior and denial about this. The reason I bring this up is because once again I find myself caught between two distinct worlds. World one is the straight-laced, tightly controlled, overly-religious world of many of my friends and family. The other is the world of the secular. Here’s where I dwell with scientists, scholars, professionals and practical people who have no damn use for the antiquated values and moral concepts of yesteryear. Dare we call it yestercentury?
In a world surrounded by sex on all sides why must we still pretend that we are all virgins when we get married, have no sexual fantasies, there’s no need for frank discussions about safe sex and the nation, particularly its leaders (political and religious) aren’t the biggest batch of fucking hypocrites ever to walk the earth? Oh wait, they aren’t fucking at all, that’s right. Everyone one of them wears this to work:
Yes, that vile thing is exactly what you think it is. Why don’t you try it on for size, after all, that’s what our hypocritical society tells you to do.
Remember this fuckhead?
That hypocritical dickbag is Mark Souder. The woman is his mistress Tracy Jackson. Yeah, when they’re not talking about the importance of abstinence only education and abstinence, they’re fucking. Yes, they’re fucking. I’m surprised he could pull his dick out long enough for them to record this video. Why do we play this game? Why do we listen to these people? Why do we have to pretend that we aren’t a bunch of hypocrites and liars?
Thank you, Ms. Maddow. It had to be said. The very happy ending to this story (nothing to do with hand jobs, Americans don’t have sex, thank you very much) is that Souder resigned. It couldn’t happen to a nicer person. I digress. Back to the matter at hand. I went into a Frederick’s of Hollywood recently and saw a woman in an abaya and hijab looking at lingerie. What the fucking fuck? If you’re wearing the beekeeper suit, the last thing you need to worry about is looking sexy. There’s nothing sexy about putting a tarp on your ass and pretending you don’t have legs and a vagina. Oh, and for those of you not familiar with Frederick’s of Hollywood, here’s a quick advert:
Nothing screams chastity, subjugation to the patriarchy and no sex in America like a Frederick's catalog.
So, either my sister underneath the tarp is fooling herself, or even she feels the need to appeal to the man who subjugates her every night. I’m banking on the second, and so even the chaste and modest before God appear to be fucking. Now why are we all still pretending it doesn’t happen?
I’d like to have a day when I don’t hear some stupid asshole say something along the lines of, “Well, I don’t have the right to judge, only God can do that, but…”
But nothing, asshole. You just saw fit to judge. Oh, you’re not casting judgment, you’re just making up your mind that you have to play along with this society’s hypocrisy and react accordingly. After all, when you’re not the pariah, everything is just fine. All the while you ogle the ads, jerk off to the free porn on the premium cable channels and get off on listening to all the dirty little secrets spouted off during talk shows. Who’s worse? Me because I tell kids to use condoms and be safe or you with your hypocrisy? Let’s take a second look…
I’m hitting two taboos with one blog. After all, I know we can’t show penises in this country because no woman has ever witnessed a penis and remained conscious. Women fainting and/or dying at the sight of a penis is why there are so few humans in the world.
Yeah, like that prevents pregnancy and STDs. Look at the holes in those things—a cockroach could escape that.
No, not that ring, you jackass. I mean THIS RING:
That’s more like it. After all, we all know you’re using them at home.
And, if you’re actually smart, this ring as well.
Now that’s what I’m talking about. These particular ones are vegan and biodegradable. Not that there’s a problem with global warming or mass waste production or environmental abuse (see denial).
We could fight the demons. If only. See, I’m just one abrasive voice screaming into the wind. Every time you consent to ignorance only education in your schools, don’t immediately demand the resignation of “family values” candidates fucking everything that moves and embezzling money or avert your eyes in shame should a neighbor make a comment about your private life instead of telling that bitch to mind his own business, you play into this system. Maybe it’s time for a mass exorcism and a good old fashioned dose of reality. That or you could just settle for this.
Man, I can’t believe that slut had the nerve to show that much eye in public. What’s this world coming to?
I want you to look at this fucking shit. American journalists have no balls and no propensity to report the facts. Good thing the Cold War ended and the Russians have come to our rescue.
That’s from Russian TV, by the way. Rent-a-cops and BP officials chase American reporters from the affected areas and threaten to arrest them. American prisons look like resorts compared to the gulag, and the Russians responded accordingly. This is just a diversion, I’m afraid. What I’m talking about is this:
Oh yes, I’m talking about the atrocity that the GOBP and right-wingers bitched about endlessly for days: the National Day of Prayer. Americans must recognize a national day of prayer, despite that whole separation of church and state thing outlined in its constitution. We must all stop and pray. It doesn’t matter if we pray to a can of Spam, we just need to spend the day in prayer and reflection. The result of this day of prayer is an abundance of miracles and prosperity for all. Don’t believe me? Look, prayer has ended Bush’s vanity wars with Iraq and Afghanistan:
Well, maybe not. I’m sure their families are completely fine with this after a few prayers. Who cares about the loss of a few thousand people? After all, it’s not the rich peoples’ kids, so it’s perfectly okay for them to die.
Prayer stopped the BP oil spill cold. Really, it did. Dipshit Palin told us it would. See? Everything’s fine now.
Ummm, well…maybe not. That duck is grateful, actually. Jesus granted his prayer for a free bath courtesy of a rescue organization.
The BP oil spill dragged on for months and an estimated total of 5 million barrels of oil now pollute waters and shores around the Gulf of Mexico. Our space program ends with a whimper this fall. There’s no cure for cancer, and people are trying to pray away Swine Flu rather than get a vaccine proven to prevent it. We can’t teach American kids evolution, hard science or math because it offends peoples’ religious sensibilities. At the same time we wonder why every one else in the world consider Americans world-class dullards and painfully backward idiots. Maybe it’s because we are. Here’s a thought. What if, and I’m just throwing this out here, instead of having a National Day of Prayer, we have a National Day of Science?
Science is fun.
What? You don’t like science? All scientists are insane? Atheists are godless, sinful people without morals or values? I would laugh, but you’d interpret that as insane Frankenstein laughter. Instead, I’ll let you watch this:
That’s a car powered by Diet Coke and Mentos candies. Scientists test out the strangest things. Here they’re testing the true power of the Diet Coke + Mentos combination. The car won’t win a NASCAR race any time soon, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool. Unlike the “ordinary” people, scientists don’t pray for solutions. We FIND THEM. How do they know to use Diet Coke and MINT flavored Mentos specifically? Well, they use something we call the “Scientific Method.”
Sorry about the rainbow colors. I know you religious types are completely uptight and unreasonable about certain *ahem* things.
These guys found the right combination through experimentation. If the truth must be told, any soda + MINT mentos = massive CO2 expulsion. It’s just that Diet Coke works better. Why? Aspartame + nucleated candy = explosion. You just have to have the patience to work through the problem. I know you don’t believe me, as you shouldn’t. But, in absence of performing your own experiments, take these guys’ word for it:
If you want to know what’s going on from beginning to end, using the Scientific Method:
The point of all of this is that solving problems involves time, thought, creativity and insight. Everything that happens around us follows distinct laws of physics and chemistry. I wish I could leave some room for “Oogie Boogie” reasoning or myth. The sad fact is; there’s not. Sometimes life is just that simple.
Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh, Apollo, Odin, et. al., are NOT here to solve our problems for us. The BP oil spill, proliferation of AIDS, widespread hunger, spread of invasive species, wholesale rape and destruction of the environment are created by humans. It’s now up to us to solve it. We won’t do it by praying and hoping for a solution. We CAN solve it by scientists, inventors and engineers developing solutions. To this end I say we really, really, REALLY need a National Day of Science.
If we had a National Day of Science, maybe they would have stopped the oil leak sooner, or better yet, had it never happen at all. Maybe we would have 80% efficient solar power generators by now. If Americans were enthusiastic about science, we could have a cure for Cancer. If Americans liked science and math, we’d have that whole long-distance space travel problem licked. We could have a practical solution to global warming, possibly even a method for restoring damaged ecosystems. Hell, we could solve the whole problem of why there’s 12 hot dogs in a pack and only 8 buns in a pack. The world could be our mollusk.
See, living proof that something good can come from a piece of irritating shit.
I want a National Day of Science. We need a National Day of Science. Superstition hasn’t solved any of our problems or changed the system so far. The world hasn’t become a more peaceful, productive and compassionate place after all that praying. I’m not saying to give up, but I am saying we need a different approach.
Holy Christ! You mean that prayer hasn't solved all our problems?
I’m not being unpatriotic, but like most scientists, I’m always willing to change my approach to any subject. Things could be much better. Hopefully, they won’t get much worse. (Click that last sentence to see just how far the rabbit hole really goes.)
What did the good, religious leaders in Congress say recently? Oh yeah, don’t help those poor bitches, they’re lazy fuckers enjoying life on the public doll and breeding like roaches to make more lazy fuckers. I hope they fucking starve, that’ll teach ‘em.
You just keep praying and let them starve. I just hope you’re praying your God has mercy on your souls.
Your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you, unless of course you’re already three sheets to the wind. This demon has four eyes. Now, for those of you tuning in from an English speaking country, or somewhere in the Western Hemisphere, I need to point out that in Eastern religions demons aren’t necessarily a bad thing. They can be either good or evil depending on their actions and intentions. Demon is a generic term for any supernatural being. We tend to not be so lucky in the Western world. Our demons and dragons generally do NOT bode well for us. That having been said, my focus right now is not on the odd looking dude on the front of that bottle. My focus is on what’s in the bottle.
You see, this is Onigoroshi Sake. Onigoroshi is a brand name; I’m not sure which particular variety is in this bottle. I guess I could attempt to read what little English is there, but it hardly seems worth it. No, I’m focusing on the overall purpose of this bottle. You see, this bottle of sake is the “Demon Slayer.” At first I wondered how sake could end up being the demon slayer. Then I realized that sake, like all alcoholic beverages, kills a lot of demons.
Except for that bastard. Seriously, he’s taking full advantage of being immortal and completely incomprehensible. Douchebag.
No, I’m talking about the demons that alcohol can kill. I always joke about how alcohol is the sacred tears of heaven. I wish it wasn’t. On a side note, why can’t cake, pie and ice cream be the things that ease awkward conversations, kill pain and make you forget that you have an asshole landlord? They would be completely omnipotent if they could do that AND have no calories. Damn that cake.
Fuck you, you useless, calorie-laden bastard. Can’t you at least have some anesthetic quality?
I think about the demon haunted world often. No, you’re absolutely right. I’m not a religious person and don’t think about demons in the traditional religious sense. However, every day I’m confronted by various demons. The demons tell me that I’m not smart or talented enough to compose an intelligent thesis. The demons in the media that tell me I’m not thin enough, beautiful enough or young enough to be of worth to society. The demons of regret, fear and self-doubt plague those hours of insomnia at night. These are the real demons. We should fear them. These are the true destroyers.
Yes, this is what the interior of your mind looks like. The only thing that’s missing is your greatest fear painted right on the front there.
There’s nothing like a full bottle of the demon slayer to shut that shit right up. It also helps with the pain of severe arthritis, which is more than you can say for ibuprofen or Tylenol. What’s in the bottle kills the demons lurking in your mind. This is absolutely true. You lose brain cells with each binge drinking episode you engage in. Lose enough and you won’t remember a damn thing. Drink long enough and you end up in rehab or the Alzheimer’s ward. Of course, if you lose just enough brain cells the doubt just slips away quietly in the night. That’s the problem. Right now I don’t have doubts so much as the overwhelming feeling there is too much work to be done between the lab and the move.
Ever have a day where you just feel like that? Well, try it for over 20 years then call me.
I’ll be relying on the demon slayer from time to time. There’s over a liter and a half in there, so it could take a while. That’s fine; I’m in this for the long haul. Not the actual move really, that’s just a few blocks away. No, I’m talking about finishing my lab notes, writing up a thesis, moving my house, re-folding an unknown protein, testing the results, getting my family through yet another medical crisis, playing full-time aunt and babysitter and taking the time out to walk the dog twice a day.
This little bastard can pretty much take care of himself, except for the box. I wonder if it’s possible to teach him how to use the toilet.
Thank whoever’s out there for small favors. Cats are pretty much self-sufficient. I just have to throw some food at them and hope for the best. They’re pretty grateful little bastards. They even bought me a present at the liquor store the other day thanks to their fake ID’s. Now, I know what you’re thinking, because I’m curious too. Who the hell sells a cat a fake ID? I don’t know, but I need to hook up with that bitch. In the mean time, let me take a look at this…
Now that’s just wrong, man.
I guess it was one of those, “I bought it for you, but if you don’t like it, I’ll gladly keep it,” kind of things. Damn cats. Hey, furbags, hand your old lady that big bottle over there. I need a little demon slayer to wash the taste of that shit out. Cheers!