So there you are, casually strolling down the street, checking out members of the opposite sex, and if you’re a female then probably thinking about shoes or something, when you catch your reflection in the window of the nearest ‘Starbucks.’ There’s something about the way you look, the way you’re walking that just doesn’t feel right, and then it hits you. It hits you harder than a priest at a preschool, your arms are not swinging while you walk. The stares, the gazes, the pointing, and the children crying, it all makes sense now. They weren’t laughing with you, they were laughing at you. You, trying your hardest not to look like the Bride of Frankenstein, start methodically swinging your arms at the same pace as your legs, thus not allowing you to think about shoes, or tits. Your walk is ruined, and you feel like an idiot. As you walk by dogs bark, and children start crying. Fire hydrants explode with water and full grown men pass out at the sight of your forced walk. You begin to panic. Ashamed and embarrassed by your arm inspired stride you speed up, and take off running, trying to escape your audience, your shame. As your legs pump faster and harder, you focus and try your hardest to swing your arms at the same beat. Left leg, right arm, right leg, left arm, left leg right arm, left leg left-- You screw up. You stumple and hop again on one leg. Struggling to regain
your balance, while continuing your monotonous arm/leg synchronization you run into a woman, and her stroller gets away from her and starts rolling straight towards the street. You look and a truck is coming straight for the baby, who has now begun to cry. You run towards the baby. Left leg, right arm, right leg, left arm. You can’t focus, you’re stumbling, you’re not gonna make it. Screw it, you think, and arms being sucked down by gravity, two straight pieces of wood by your side you charge full force to the babies rescue. But it’s too late. The truck squishes both you and the baby, and now you’re dead. Both you and an infants life are now gone all because you had to swing your arms while you walked. Now is that really worth it?I hate arms.
Think about how much more peaceful the world would be if nobody had arms or hands. That opening scene from ‘Saving Private Ryan,’ where the soldier runs by and picks up his own arm… that whole fiasco could’ve been avoided. Seriously, how can somebody be expected to fire a gun if he doesn’t have a hand? Imagine what wars would be like, groups of people running full blast at each other screaming and kicking as hard as they can. So there’ll be a significant increase in head butts and bruised shins, but at least we’d all be alive dammit. I know what you’re gonna say.
“But Ving, if we couldn’t use guns, then there would probably be an increase in the use of missiles”
Then a stupid little smirk comes across your face and you reward yourself with that ice cream sandwich that has been teasing you all afternoon and go watch Anime Porn. Well guess what… WRONG ASSHOLE!!!!! Lemme ask you this. If you had no hands how would you press the ‘Launch’ button? Huh? With your nose? Ridiculous. Moving on.
Handshakes. We’ve all been there, the boss, girlfriends dad, doctor, or OB/GYN extends their hand out awaiting your response. Of course you have to shake back, but there’s a problem, your palms are sweating. Casually sliding your hand up your pant leg, wiping ferociously but secretively so nobody notices, you extend it to his. This is where the alpha male shows his place. Who grabs hold firmest, who shakes, who leads. How hard do you squeeze? You have to have a firm grip, but squeeze too hard and it’s awkward. How long do you shake for? Normal professional handshake, or harlem brothers slapping hands, snapping, spinning, and dunking, ghetto handshake. Careful to maintain eye contact, don’t look down at your hand. He just put his other h
and on my wrist, what do I do? This is going well, I think I’ve got it, he’s letting go, thank you jesus, everything’s okay. And then, turning away from you to talk to somebody else, it happens. You watch him casually slide his hand against his thigh, wiping off the sweat from your disgusting clammy hands.This is assuming all goes well and there is a predetermined handshake. What about those times you meet somebody new and both of you wait for the other one to extend his hand, and neither of you do, leaving nothing but a casual nod. What if you extend your hand and they don’t see? Do you casually put your arm down and ignore the other people laughing, or do you demand a handshake. Or god forbid it’s a woman. Women are the worst, sometimes they’ll open wide for a hug, which is awesome, as long as you can hide your erection, but this is not always the case. Older women tend to have more firm handshakes, just imagine she has a penis and shake hard (the hand, not the penis), but younger women, and very feminine women, who have generally married rich, shake like girls. I think the best way to handle the limp handshake is too squeeze tight, and shake confidently. Perhaps the woman will be so amazed with your handshaking technique that she’ll strip down and screw you right there in the hallway. Another approach is to use both arms and pretend to jack-off her arm. Hopefully she’ll get the message and strengthen that arm, but if she doesn’t I highly recommend running away. I guess there is one simple point that I am trying to get across here.
I hate hands.
I know the strongest argument against this, and I totally agree and understand. Without hands, we couldn’t masterbate. You’re right, it sucks, but with the good comes the bad. Without hands, we also get rid of the blowjobs retarded cousin, the hand job. Women not willing to have sex with us, but so desperate not to get dumped will be forced to skip a step and open wide. Besides, if Edward Scissorhands can do it, so can you. Regardless, masturbation will be unnecessary and be completely replaced by our favorite national past-time, rape. No more pounding on my chest, no more nails cutting my back, no more mace. She won’t be able to push you off, or punch or scratch you. No more tears or blood, only good ol’ fashioned nonconsensual sex.
So there you have it, hands bad, rape good. Oh, I almost forgot the best aspect of no hands or arms. Insensitive assholes like me would be totally incapable of writing, I’m off to get a chainsaw and some paper towels, I suggest you do the same.
