...and still more

more shit i pasted from my OLD blog, from back in the day


Tuesday, March 15, 2005
long, pointless, and not funny at all. Sorry.
A dog that hadnt eaten in 3 weeks jumped up and tore his face off. Just like that. Chimps'll do it, too. You have to be careful. You have to walk around on fucking eggshells out here or you might just walk on glass. Im five years out of that goddamn bathroom where i left the nightime chills, window sills, spoon and pills and rolled-up bills. Hey, more than that, allmost i think 6 or seven years? But the 3 before the last 2 are a mess of fog and slurring haze that no one can remember but me, and i was blacked out for most of it. I am on the verge of a fucking nervous breakdown here. Its bad enough worrying in a way that is only half-joking, and only then so that it isnt all real, about the goddamn aliens and WHAT THEY ARE DOING up there and what have they got in store for YOU as you lie in bed too terrified to open your eyes at 3 am.....but now you have other things to worry about, dogs who are dying though they arent even sick, evil swine who are driving the fucking wagon towards the cliff at 500 MPH, insane family and all-too-sane coworkers. Youve got to worry about a car you havent seen in a year, because it blew up. Youve got to worry about whats going to happen in 10 years when your brothers get a chance to be as fucked up as you are, abour whats going to happen in ? years when someone finaly notices and brings the hammer down hard on your head, right at the exact second that you remember you forgot to wear your helmet that day...Yeah but sometimes you forget to worry and those are the times that you must concentrate on. Stretch them out as long as possible and refuse to let them end because their ending means the fucking Kracken will rise up again and then you are properly fucked. But in those times, ignore everything else. Tune it out. Ride the train you are on until it slams into the platform at the other end of the line, and then crawl up out of the wreckage, ignore your wounds completely, and kick as hard as you can at the door of the train on the oposite platform until they let you in so you can start the ride again. Because its fucking cold out there and if you wind up having to WALK, youre in for it. Thats a long, shitty walk through hostile teritory with no supplies at all except a big neon sign advertising your vulnerability and inadequecy. Sure, sometimes you may be strong enough to make the walk, but not by yourself. Fuck no. So when you are by yourself, make sure you are on the train, see? or at least on the tracks. There is no shame in defeat. There is only shame in surrender. When it is raining, it is foolish to attempt to stay dry. When life hands you lemmons, burn them to the ground, salt the earth 3 feet thick, and then kick life in the balls until it gives you the grapes you asked for in the first place. Never trust anyone that doesnt have any scars. "Ignore all alien orders and communications". Allways walk on the sunny side of the street. invest everything you have in whatever makes you happy. fuck everything else.
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Friday, March 04, 2005
Speaking of Indiana Jones
When I was a kid, and I would get together with the one friend I had back then (we are talking like pre 1987 here), a kid named Sam, we allways did one of 3 things. We would either play with our Masters of the Universe Action Figures, which wasnt often becuase i had a habit of chewng the heads off of mine, or we would have "ninja practice", which was exactly what it sounds like and allways ended with blood, tears, grass stains and at least one broken couch or appliance, or, if it was a good day, we would play Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones was awesome, because Sam and I would BOTH be Indiana. We each got the cool jacket, the cool hat, the fucking bullwhip and machete (which we thought was a sword because we were like 9 years old), and the impenetrable coolness of a renegade archeologist hell-bent on keeping the great treasures of the world out of Nazi or Thugee hands. (fucking Thugee bastards...)Now, Sam had all sorts of toys. He had a shitload. He had the fucking Moon of Endor playset, Jabas palace playset, a fucking AT-AT walker. He had the goddamn Milenium Falcon hanging from his ceiling with fishing line. Fuck. He had Gi Joes, Masters of the Universe that still had their heads AND their weapons, and, fuck me running, he had not only the Castle Greyskull playset (i destroyed mine when i closed a very young cat inside of it and hurled it down the stairs), but ALSO the entire fucking Hordak's Evil Horde and their hideout. He had Snake Mountain, where Skeletor lived, that had, I shit you not, a goddamn VOICE DISTORTING MICROPHONE IN THE SHAPE OF A SNAKE ON IT that you could talk into and hear yourself sounding seriously evil. But we never played with the fucking things. This must have infuriated his parents, becuase while the toys were left to moulder in a corner, we were bouncing off the fucking walls with our imaginary floppy brown fedoras, singing the Indiana Jones music at the top of our lungs. "Du-da-da DAH, dududa, du da da DAAAAAH, du du du duuu duuu!!!!!" Fucking ROCK ON! These are the best memories of my life. Once, in a moment of sheer inspired genious, we put Raiders of the Lost Ark, which had the previous evening been taped off "the Movie Loft", into the VCR and TAPED THE SOUNDTRACK onto a blank tape on my Fisher Price, so that we could actually HAVE THE FUCKING INDIANA JONES MUSIC AND DIALOGUE playing in the background while we ran around like lunatics, bashing each other with wifflebats (swords) and running into walls as fast as we could. God, we were fucking awesome.
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Friday, February 11, 2005
Johnson&Johnson email prank (KY Jelly)

Hello to all my friends at Johnson and Johnson. I am writing today to let you know about a disturbing experience that I had recently, that unfortunately involved one of your many products. First, let me say that I have been using your products ever since i was a baby and your "no more tears" baby shampoo perminently burned my retinas. Later, I suffered the stagering pain of my prepubescent leg hairs being torn out by your "band-Aid" brand adhesive bandages. Later still, while in High Shool, your various diferent kinds of "baby powder" did nothing to quensh my horrible daiper-rash, even when i snorted it, which cased me to wonder if it was even made from real babies. I have had many misadventures with your products, too numerous to list, and yet i have continued to remail a loyal consumer. After all, you have been keeping the world healthy and happy since 1324, or some shit. Anyway, about a week ago, i was in my local drugstore shopping for the latest exciting J&J product, when i happened upon a tube of something called "KY Jelly". I had never seen this before. "Huh, I didnt realize they were making food...when did Kentucky start making Jelly for Johnson and Johnson?" I wondered. But I knew never to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were, so i decided to give the Kentucky Jelly a try. I figured, "hey, i like jelly, and ive never been to Kentucky, so what the fuck, right?" Wrong. Let me tell you that the Kentucky Jelly is by far the WORST tasting jelly i have ever put into my mouth. But thats not the thing that disturbed me. After retching at the awful taste and texture of the Kentucky Jelly, I spat it out and looked for the ingredients, thinking "what the flying toothless fuck is in this shit anyway?!?!?!" To my suprise, there WAS no ingredients, only "directions for use". And what did these directions say? TO APLY THE KENTUCKY JELLY TO MY GENITALS before eating it. Now I must ask you, is this some kind of sick joke? Ill have you know that its not very funny. I wanted to give you people the benefit of the doubt, and even though i couldnt see how my love-stick could possibly make the Kentucky Jelly taste any better, I tried it. Do you have any idea how dificult it is to get your own penis into your mouth? Aparently, it is completely imposible. All i suceded in doing was hyperextending several vertebre in my neck and severely laccerating my lower intestine. What the hell were you people thinking?Please send me as many free samples of Kentucky Jelly as legaly possible. Yours, The Right Rev. Mint Conklin