Marijuanalogue: Poetry for Potheads

.

The unknown vast and limitless nothingness looms menacingly;
Forced to cope with a world of regret, abandoned and alone;
Solace is granted in the form of an herb;
Perception warped, ignited, enhanced;
The world viewed anew, fresh and forgiving-- I am at peace with all;
The whirling, cleansing consciousness, aspires to the divine and I...

HOLY SHIT, I HAVE DORITOS?!?!?!?!!!?!?

.

An Unpopular Comedian

.

"I just flew in from the battered women's shelter and boy are my arms tired!"

.

When TV Jumped the Shark

The school year has ended and I have begun to waste away in my own unemployed crapulence. Needless to say I am faced with a lot of free time and the tedious task of filling it. I’ve taken on a few different strategies to cope. First of all, I’ve found that sleeping can kill a great deal of time. Seriously. I just lie down, close my eyes, and I sleep. Sometimes up to 8 or 9 hours a day! For much of my remaining waking hours I struggle to keep myself busy because, well, you can’t masturbate all of the time. Trust me, it bleeds. To remedy the situation I’ve turned to masochism. That’s right, I’ve returned to my old friend, the television.

TV and I used to be tight. It would entertain me, and I would buy the shit it told me to. The system worked. Sometime between then and now, however, TV decided that it was better than me and instead of trying to entertain me, it would just play reality television shows. Ignoring the fact that this very title is an oxymoron, I would like to point out, for the record, that reality television is the embodiment of everything that is wrong with anything ever. It’s like the studios decided that rather than giving actors good scripts and filming them, they would just not give them scripts, and film that.

The other day I was watching NBC when they introduced me to a brand new show called, I swear I’m not kidding, ‘Celebrity Circus.’ I’m just going to type that one more time. Celebrity. Fucking. Circus. Now on the off chance that your brain hasn’t physically melted and begun to ooze out of your ears, I will take this opportunity to dispel any notions of respectability and point out that it is hosted by Joey Fatone of NSync 'fame.' His last name, coincidentally, describes exactly which member he was.

There’s no way I can imagine a show like this legitimately getting greenlit. It’s so stupid, that I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s actual a parody of how dumb reality TV has become. But this in itself is a problem. I don’t want my television self aware. I can’t laugh at it if it’s in on the joke. It’s like if a Cerebral Palsy victim hobbles up to me and yells ‘DON’T CEREBRAL PALSY VICTIMS LOOK STUPID!?!” It stops being funny and starts being sad. And that is what television has become. A retarded cripple with no perception of volume.

I don’t even know how reality television became so popular. Most horrific things start off as a good idea and then quickly deteriorate. For example, Robin Williams used to be funny before he started doing a bad impression of himself. Even something as terrible as AIDS started as something as wonderful as monkey rape. Reality TV never seemed like a good idea though. It’s progression is so ridiculous I feel stupid even typing it. It starts with MTV’s “The Real World.” That show is literally just people in a house. Then it evolved into ‘Big Brother.’ Big Brother is also people in a house, but this time, somebody wins. No stepping stone from here, it was just the Big Bang of Shit. Shows pop up left and right. People in all kinds of places, falling in love with all kinds of people, and winning all kinds of crap, and then one day, Ta Da! Celebrity Circus.

Reality TV shows are so cheap and they’re being produced so fast and frequently, I fear that within a few years every single person in the world will have their own camera crew following them around for their TV show. Society will come down to nothing but an all out ratings war, with people trying to spice up their shows however they can. Before we know it there’ll be ninjas and killer robots attacking left and right. Dramatic Soap Opera style fights and explosions, paternity tests, shootouts, and just all around mayhem as everyone does everything they can to secure viewers.

Then one day, some TV executive will have the genius idea of reintroducing scripted television. Only reality will be so ridiculous that the scripted, escapist, entertainment, will just be people hanging out, reading books, and talking about the weather. Of course by then the public will be too high-brow and they’ll demand that their scripted shows be more realistic. They start incorporating ninjas and killer robots, returning television to the ridiculous entertainment we once enjoyed and reality to what we now consider normal. That is, of course, until somebody decides that reality TV is ready for a comeback. Humanity suffers on ongoing cycle of robots as escapism and ninjas as reality over and over until we all become so stupid that we stop watching television and start producing it.

The worst thing about reality TV though, is that I occasionally find myself watching it. The other day was the finale of my favorite show, ‘Interpretive Dancing with the Stars.’ Michael J. Fox won when he had to perform, ‘Earthquake.’ It was AMAZING!!

Also, it's becoming almost impossible to do anything about it. Television cronies seem to speak a different language. Terms like ‘shoulder peak’ and ‘frankenbite’ make no sense to us normal folk, but have become a part of regular vernacular in ‘TV Speak.’ Even saying something basic like, ‘shoot a pilot’ doesn’t mean the same thing for a TV executive as it does for, say, an Iraqi.

I grew up on wholesome shows. Shows like Sesame Street, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and the Power Rangers. Shows embracing equality and even, occasionally, intelligence. Sure there were traces of racism, like making the Asian girl the Yellow Ranger and the Black guy the Black Ranger. It probably didn’t help that when they transformed into their respective attack vehicles, they called the black one, ‘Niggerbot,’ but ultimately it taught me that regardless of race we’re all equal when fighting side by side. Even niggers.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe mankind is nothing more than entertainment for some sort of supreme being or extraterrestrials. At least then we’d be the good kind of show. The kind that isn’t in on the joke. Maybe we’re the kid with Cerebral Palsy that doesn’t know everyone is laughing at him when he falls down the stairs. It’s possible we’re nothing more than a big galactic reality show.

And I hope to god we get cancelled very soon.

A blind kid tells a joke.

Knock Knock

who's there?

I don't know.

.

The Divine Comedy?

The other day when I was out on my travels somebody stopped me and asked who my comic inspirations are. Well, let me rephrase. The other day someone asked me for the time, in response to which, I told him who my comic inspirations are. It was a hard question to answer because I’ve had so many, but I was able to construct a crude list off the top of my head. I started with the first three big ones I could think of: The Simpsons, Conan O’Brien, and my father. At this point the guy realized I had no intention of telling him the time and he walked away. I continued, however, because I was very, very, high. Several minutes later, after many more names and awkward stares, I came to my final and most revealing influence. I never realized the true comedic inspiration I’ve drawn from him until I muttered his name out loud to myself on the bus that day. “God,” I declared before adding, “It’s around 2:30.”

I’ve often debated whether God, if he exists, has a sense of humor. My initial reaction, thinking about the tragedy that occurred on 9/11, is no. It’s not the act itself that dissuades me, It’s just that if God had any sense of humor, he would’ve made the Middle Easterners attack America on 7/11. On the other hand, he made midgets.

I don’t want to give the impression that I hold no bias in this debate, I am, admittedly, an atheist. I used to be a believer but then a homeless man shattered my faith when he asked me if god could microwave a burrito so hot that not even he could eat it. This spiritual query had a severe affect on me and I could tell the homeless man knew it by the look in his eye when I told him, “I don’t know.” He really wanted that burrito.

I think it’s become clear though, that if God does exist, he has a great sense of humor. I mean, just look at the fossils; burying dinosaurs bones to test our faith? Now THAT’S wacky! It’s relieving to know that God had a sense of humor in creating humans; what is disappointing is that humans have shown no sense of humor in worshipping God.

Religion is serious business. On September 30, 2005, a Dutch newspaper printed some cartoons that offended members of the Islamic faith resulting in riots, the burning of Danish embassies of Syria, Lebanon, and Iran, and resulting in over 100 deaths. They have subsequently cancelled publication of ‘Family Circus, in Denmark.

The point is, people are very sensitive about their gods. It is not surprising then that Jews, God’s self-proclaimed “Chosen People,” are among one of the most hated groups in the world. The biggest criticism I hear is that all Jews love money which, quite honestly, is ridiculous. I mean when you go to Church they hand around a collection plate and tell you to give them money; when you go to Synagogue, they give you free hats! I’ve always imagined Catholics putting money into the collection plate, quietly mumbling to themselves, ‘here take it, I don’t want it. This shit’s for the jews!!!!” Just because the Jewish people have a lot of money, doesn’t mean we love it more than you, we’re just better businessmen. Jews are better at focusing and concentrating on the tasks at hand than most other groups because we spent so much time at concentration camps. You can go too if you want, but piece of advice: eat a big meal first.

Maybe it’s not fair to say that religion has no sense of humor, after all, Mormons wear magic underwear and believe in polygamy. I had a Mormon teacher when I was in high school and it was great. We’d have multiple choice tests and you could choose as many answers as you wanted. Buddhism also seems like they can take a joke. I mean, the main doctrines of Buddhism are to denounce material things and find inner enlightenment. In other words, they’re lazy. And the entire religion was founded by one man, one lazy, poor, fat man. Buddhist communion ceremonies replaced communion crackers and wine with cupcakes and chocolate milk. It’s delivered via drive-thru.

Al Qaeda members probably seem like they have the least sense of humor. I mean, sure, they’ve got that ‘HALALALALA’ sound they make before they stab you, and when they say ‘Go out with a bang,’ they really mean it, but that whole ‘72 virgins thing’ just throws me off. Radical Islamists are told that if they die in the name of Allah they will go to Heaven where they will receive 72 virgins. However, nothing that I’ve read of the Qu’ran (the title) says anything about the age or sex of these virgins. If God has the sense of humor I hope he does, I can only imagine that radical Islamists who kill themselves, and others, for God, find themselves in “heaven” where they’re put in control of a foster home, and forced to take care of 72 little babies. Enjoy your virgins, assholes.

There is one humorous element that many religions seem to share, an element many consider to be the ‘missing link.’ This element is, of course, funny hats. Jews start with Yarmulkes. Small headwear, effective and original, but being the short minded fools we are we gave them away like hotcakes. Next came the Sikhs. They said, “nice hats, jews! But check this shit out!” and they got bigger, funnier hats. In comes Christianity. “Guys, guys, guys,” Christianity interjects. “Christianity’s only gonna have one hat.” “One hat?” asks Judaism. “One hat,” Christianity confirms. “But it’ll be fucking huge! And we’ll cover it with jewels and shit, and make it pointy at the top. It’ll be soo sick, you have no idea!” And so the Pope, to this day, retains the funniest hat.
Do funny hats translate into senses of humor, though? Well let’s look at the track record: Witch hunting, the Inquisition, and Child molestation. I guess 1/3 isn’t that bad. To analyze Christianity we need to look at its mascot, Jesus Christ. Now I’ve written about Jesus before, but the only conclusion I came to is that I could beat him in a wrestling match, but I made no guess as to who would win in a comedy face-off.

God being the standup comedian that he is, it’s no surprise that his son is a magician. That being said he works in sadistic and confusing ways. People often ask me if I’ve found Jesus, but I don’t understand why I should be looking. For certain people it makes sense to hide. Osama Bin Laden, for instance, makes sense. Waldo also checks out, but Jesus? Story doesn’t make sense; “he’ll save your soul, but you gotta catch him first!”

And so here we are at the conclusion and still with no answer. Does God have a sense of humor? History tells us that God’s done some pretty terrible things. He even tried to kill off mankind with Noah’s Ark. Then again, it’s gotta take a pretty wild sense of humor to wake up one morning and go ‘Wait a minute, I should put all of the animals on a boat. Yeah, yeah, all the animals and, fucking…. THAT GUY!!!” So how about it? Is God a joker? Well they say that God made man in his own image, and if that’s true, than looking around me at the world we live in, I can say definitively that no. No, god does not have a sense a humor.

But then again, he did make midgets…..

COLESLAW!!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems like no matter where I go or what I do there’s always one person telling me that I’m crazy. This person's name is Harold Blurkenstein and he lives in my brain. He also tells me to burn things and buy flip flops in bulk. Worry not though, dear readers, for I can assure you that I’m not crazy-- just very eccentric and maybe a little schizophrenic. It's true, he is. Shut up. No, you shut up.

When I was a little kid I had an imaginary friend. We were more than friends, we were best friends, and we did everything together. Whether it be cleaning my room or ridiculing my wardrobe, he was always there to lend a hand or scream racial obscenities at his imaginary children. We had cool nicknames for each other too, I called him ‘Zorlax’ and he called me ‘Faggot.’ I still remember laying tied up on the basement floor every few days playing a game we affectionately referred to as ‘Rape.’ I lost every time.

Sure, years later it would turn out that Zorlax wasn’t an imaginary friend at all and I was, in fact, kidnapped, but that doesn’t change the fondness I have of our memories or the years of psychological abuse that I’ve been forced to deal with through intensive psychiatric care. In fact, I still keep in touch with Zorlax. I visited him recently and was relieved to learn that he still plays ‘rape’ with his new friends in prison, but he says he doesn’t win nearly as often.

The point I’m trying to make is that being ‘crazy’ is subjective and perhaps it doesn’t deserve the bad rep it gets. Granted, most of the voices in people’s heads aren’t very supportive. You never turn on the news and hear about a lonely man who shows up for work on his birthday and hears the voice in his head demand, “Cut them Paul. Cut them all… a piece of your birthday cake!!!” But maybe that’s just sensationalism. We’re led to believe that everyone who kills because a non existant being demands it is a nutjob, but that's simply not the case; many are just religious. The news never reports on the homicides resulting from a voice constantly complimenting someone’s shoes, because the friendly voices aren’t news worthy.

Just because somebody thinks and acts differently from the majority doesn’t mean they’re crazy. When you see a homeless man collecting empty water bottles to finish building his rocketship, you call him crazy and you judge him. Sure, he’ll probably never make it to the moon but that guy is probably much happier than you and I. That man has a purpose and he’s content to finish his rocket, get enough peanut butter to fuel it, and launch himself into the unknown. So you call him crazy if you have to, but where’s your water bottle rocket ship?

People are so quick to label the homeless as ‘crazy’. I don’t consider most of the supposed weirdos on the street crazy, I consider them brave. I would love to run around screaming all day, humping fire hydrants, and begging strangers for money, but I simply don’t have the guts. If you take off your pants, talk to yourself, and eat some shit off the floor in the privacy of your own home it’s totally normal, but if your home is the sidewalk than you're totally whacko. When you see a homeless guy beating one off in the bus terminal, he’s not crazy, he’s horny. Horny and brave.

Insanity has such a negative connotation and insane people by association. Just because somebody’s crazy doesn’t mean he’s unpleasant. I used to know somebody with multiple personality disorder and he was the nicest group of people I’ve ever met.

What I’m getting at is that we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because somebody speaks in languages that don’t exist or responds to everything you say by screaming “COLESLAW!!!!!” doesn’t mean he or she is nuts. If that person isn’t hurting anyone and he/she is happy, than who the hell are we to classify them as crazy? Maybe if we were all as confident to act as freely as these ‘weirdoes’ the world would be a better place. Instead of ridiculing those that live by their own rules maybe we should step back from the stresses of everyday life and conformity and try to find our own plastic bottle rocket ship.

Shut up. No, you shut up. Go buy flip flops. Okay.

Special Guest Entry by Helen Keller

dashdfSK; dh; adfkh; hk;H; KLDFJ;ADSGFADFSINHO;ANDSN;dfsj;krweiuo oink;lzvkn;ldkjl;DF SKJ;Ldf hj HJ DFdsdhdF HDH AFSQEF ij:oDSf NJCC NNDSNMSvn:N;NJDVSVsn D;dgfqgyaewtffgfdgagiadsfkdsghlfsDoodsavnnkdvs j;AF dsnhuv BKJ>DV bkjl vsBKJ Lkjlfd fdjsadfladfs adfj

Edit: Get it? Because she's blind. Haha! GET IT!?!?!?!?

New Entry: Now with twice as many calories!

There was a time long ago when being fat was considered attractive. Being portly meant that you had the money to afford large quantities of food, and therefore obesity was an admirable quality. There came a time however when people came to realize that fat people are gross and rather than finding plump suitors women decided to simply sleep with everybody in the hopes that they eventually hit a rich one. With the advent of cheap artery clogging fast food, the days of heaviness as a sign of financial dependability are gone. Being fat nowadays defines you as lazy, unattractive, buoyant, and applicable for a job in niche pornography.

We’re now living in a society where it’s acceptable to openly mock fat people. It’s wrong to ridicule people of color, midgets, or the handicapped because we’re taught that it’s wrong to judge people based on the way they look. Unless of course, they jiggle.

I bring this issue up because it’s an important aspect of my life. I grew up obese and when I turned 13 I lost a lot of the weight. I recently found it. I weigh myself occasionally to maintain a constant weight, and although it fluctuates slightly it generally stays relatively constant. I weighed myself recently after an extended hiatus and I was surprised by what my scale said. It said ‘Ow, get off!’

Gaining weight is a scary issue for me namely because of my childhood. As I said, I grew up obese and it was hard. As any fat kid, ugly girl, or minority knows, kids can be very cruel. In order to survive adolescence at that age you have to develop some kind of defense mechanism. Whether it be a sense of humor, an increased intellect, or rich grandparents, you’ve gotta have something that all those skinny fuckers don’t-- for me it was all three. Unfortunately when I started losing weight my grades dropped, my sharp sense of humor faded, and my grandparents started dying.

Obesity complicates things. For example, when you’re a fat kid you have to develop your own terms for things. The ‘see-saw’ became known as ‘the catapult.’ There were ‘swings,’ or as I called them ‘break-and-falls’ and of course ‘women,’ or as I called them ‘just friends.’ Stairs were out of the question, as they were nothing more than broken escalators and the closest thing to a treadmill I ever used was the moving sidewalk in the airport, which of course never did anything because it always went in the direction I was walking—towards the food court.

The whole process is a vicious cycle. As you gain more weight you feel worse and worse about yourself and the pain you feel grows. As the saying goes you ‘eat your pain away,’ unless of course you’re eating broken glass. Afraid of re-entering this cycle of chili-dogs and timbits I took preventative measures; I bought a ‘Bowflex’ machine. To pay for it I decided to use it and open up my own gym. The first guy that showed up was furious. I explained to him that it was a home gym but he was having none of it, so I refunded his money and returned the machine.

Nowadays, as I continue to expand, panic is beginning to set in. I’m desperate to lose weight and I’m willing to do anything other than exercise and eat right. I’ve heard that many of these fad diets all over the news work amazingly well for the small percentage of people that they don’t kill. Unfortunately, I love bread and hate grapefruit. Maybe I'll just learn to accept myself the way I am and not care so much what people think of me.

After all, I've always wanted to try niche porn.

If Anne Frank had a Time Machine....

Dear Diary,
Being alive is awesome!!

Sincerely,
Anne Frank

P.S. I love my time machine.

Ode to the Old

Here’s the thing about old people, they suck. Not to say their personalities suck or anything like that, I genuinely enjoy talking to my grandparents (except the dead one, she’s a little dull) it’s just that you can’t really play with them. Their memory is so short that a game of ‘Hide and Seek’ quickly deteriorates into a game of ‘Hide While Grandpa Gets a Sandwich,’ and you can’t roughhouse because if they cut themselves dust pours from the wounds uncontrollably until they bleed out.

I don’t want to sound like I’m being insensitive or anything, but I am. Quite frankly I don’t care what the elderly think about this and I don’t care if I offend them. I mean, what’s a geezer gonna do? Take me out of the will?....

…. Old people are the best! They’re smart and experienced and handsome and rich. They’ve got good fashion sense, a quick humor, and great business sense. You’ve still got it grandpa!

I can’t wait to be old. Seriously I can’t, and not just because you get to shit your pants. No, I’m kidding, it’s totally because you get to shit your pants. Old people can do pretty much anything they want and they get a free pass. The day that I qualify for a seniors discount is the day I just start shitting my pants fucking everywhere.

I’ve got this scene in my mind that I’m just spending my life waiting to live out. I’m old and I’m standing in a crowded elevator. I hit the stop button and over the alarm system I start screaming ‘DIANE, I CAN’T FEEL MY PANTS. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, THE SQUIRRELS ARE COMING!!!!!!’ and while the rest of the elevator is sympathizing with my struggle with dementia, I emphatically shit my pants. The applause that follows is deafening.

You can just fuck with people when you’re old. In fact, I have a theory that nothing mentally changes with the elderly, they’re just screwing with us. There’s a convention in Florida once every 5 years where they agree on a bunch of characteristics for them to follow. Things like offhand racial remarks, poor driving, and pretending it wasn’t you who farted when it clearly was, Grandma!

This brings me to the greatest advantage of being old: sagging genitals. Now I know that a lot of you wouldn’t necessarily consider this a benefit, but allow me to explain. I shot off an email recently to an online ‘friend’ asking what she thought it would be like to be old. She responded like she always does, by telling me how to add inches to my cock and giving me links to animal porn. This got me to thinking about my grandpa’s testicles and I came to a shocking conclusion. I need therapy. Also, I concluded that the skin on his penis is sagging, making it larger, and his balls probably dangle like a tetherball.

When my nuts start drooping, I’m putting those bad boys right out on display. I’m surprised I don’t see more old guys in short shorts. My balls will never be inside my pants. I’ll always have them dangling out of my short legs, hell I’ll have them hanging out of my jeans. I’ll start every conversation with, ‘Look at the size of my balls!” When I buy new shoes I’ll get an extra one for my nuts and just let it swing along.

Not convinced, ladies? Well I’ve got some benefits for you, too. For starters, you can save money on shirts by just tucking your breasts into your pants. Secondly, you can have your husband eat you out and suck on your nipples at the same. Now I know what you’re thinking and the answer is yes. Yes, my mother does read this and yes she is very ashamed.

The final benefit to growing old is that you can do whatever the hell you want on the road. You can go 5 km/h on the highway, swerve across all the “lanes”, or drive right into a Korean fruit stand and people will forgive you when they see that you’re old. Contrary to this, most old people defy logic and drive very slowly. I’d imagine an old person’s steam powered train of thought would be thinking, ‘I better hurry, I could be dead any second,’ as they zoomed full speed through traffic, peeling out from red lights, trying desperately to reach their destination before the sweet release of death caught up to them. Oh well, live and learn. Then forget and die.

Some argue that growing old sucks because you lose control of your body as your physical abilities deteriorate. This may be true, but your body also adapts. It makes up for the things you lose. For example, as a woman ages it becomes more and more difficult to run. Your body recognizes this and to make up for it, your labia loosens, slapping against one another allowing your vagina to applaud your efforts.

Growing old is awesome. You can shit where and when you like, enjoy the cool wind on your saggy balls, and drive into whatever and whomever you like. Sure, every moment could be your last and all your friends are dead, but think of all the senior discounts.

Did I mention the saggy balls?