Friday, December 3, 2010

The One Where I Refute My Own Amazing Accomplishments

There are some things you should never start a post with and that includes the sentence I just thought of* while trying to decide how I was going write something that ultimately is just an excuse to show off an awesome penguin nativity scene I found. This led me to think about what it is exactly I bring to the proverbial table when it comes to Internet community contributions. The answer, as you may well have guessed, is absolutely nothing. If the Internet is a delicious family dinner, I'm the asshole cousin who shows up and pretends to carry a dish-to-pass into the kitchen but when I get there I just take the empty Tupperware container I'm carrying and fill it with your silverware.

Seriously. I'm not about trying to mine deeper socio-poltical meaning out of the act of blogging with my insight-filled tirades about farting. I'm not raising money to save orphans, because those little fuckers are depressing as shit, especially around the holidays. (I actually have a solution for this orphan problem, if anyone wants to hear it**). Same goes for whales. I mean whales are super-cool and keep giant squid from eating our boats of whatever, but I just don't have time to save them because according to my research, these Gilligan's Island reruns aren't going to watch themselves.


Mmmmm...Tastes like ginger! (No, not the dumb dog!)


I'm also not trying to make anyone aware of a gross social injustice like sexy public breastfeeding, or dirty hippy chicks who don't shave or how men who get"no fatties" tattoos on their stomach are degrading to tattoo artists everywhere. I'm not trying to stop racism against people with funny accents. I'm not trying to raise awareness of anything at all besides how handsome I am. I'm not warning anyone about how doing drugs helps Republicans kill Bigfoot, or whatever that issue is. And I'm not making a strong stand about gays marrying trees, or trees marrying gays or cows marrying frogs.I don't care who's getting married is the point. They just better have a good cake at the reception.

Like the Brady Bunch only with Cat Nerds instead.

I'm not here to give advice like "run your hand under the cold tap for two minutes and then masturbate so when you reach climax you can close your eyes and imagine you're being finished by a yeti.****" Because while that is solid advice there's a whole sub-conversation that needs to be had about dry winter air and chapsticking your junk and I just don't have the energy to get into another pro-con debate about Blistex©

So it turns out, I'm pretty much just here for hilarious cat photoshops and penguin nativity scenes.

Well... that and the porn

Historically Inaccurate. Baby Jesus should be sitting on Joseph's feet.

*That sentence was "If I was forced to ask for cancer for Christmas, I would ask for...". That's never a good way to start a post, because 1) bad karma 2)Weird...possibly not funny 3) Raises the question of who is forcing me to ask for things for Christmas, which is a whole quagmire of weirdness. I amaze myself with my own self-restraint sometimes. Only THREE reasons not to post, and I DIDN'T?

** You know how we have made turkey the Historically Accurate meal for Thanksgiving even though turkeys weren't even invented yet at the first Thanksgiving? Well I think for Christmas, we should make it so the food Mary fed Baby Santa Claus was orphan meat, and that way all the orphans of depression won't swoop down and ruin my holiday with their terrifying poverty and big pity eyes. They'll be too busy trying to avoid being eaten ceremonially to stand around making me feel guilty as I chug my third juice glass filled with gravy.***

***I had written something about the Christmas Orphan having 2 lbs of stuffing crammed up their asshole, but realized that was a bit too graphic for this festive holiday post (see penguin nativity above for details)

**** Super-bonus points if you yell "The Iceman COMETH!" at the moment of orgasm