Tuesday, August 19, 2008

SWEET MONSTER CHRIST: Sequels, Bad Assery, Gothic Love Letters spawning from Don Knotts

(Reference) * joke(bool funny, int myDignity) + NIN^2 / Yamagata Eye = Not Him At Fucking ALL


On a more serious note. I've recently lost a family member and close friend. Friends, I've lost my Bacon.

Last Christmas, Auntie Nettles and her "Baby Boo"

My nephew was a sweet, salty slab of Pure American Bacon. In his first year alone he grew 15lbs! He loved slides, Go Fish, murder, and Adobe. Sadly we lost him in an excursion to The Mall Of Amurica. If you see him, we're offering a reward of 300 Licks. Fucking delicious.

Our publicist said we should include links to "Alternative Culture" so the MTV Nation would tune into our "blogoactioncity". So, um, here you go.
I guess.

At least it MEANS something.

It's weird how the phrase "killing yourself to live" becomes strangely relevant in your mid-Twenties. When I realized these poorly written rants are my only current artistic project I'm pursuing. Then I thought about where my time goes, then I saw the opening screen of Guitar Hero and a single tear rolled down my cheek.

Cthulu-fucking Storytime!

I have never ever left a line at a grocery store. Ever. Tonight, this sacred creed was broken. I left the house with my chums to acquire a few sadness sandwiches to throw down my gullet to quell my ever increasing sense of dread. My naive mind unprepared for the impending madness I sought. I had to get change for a bill which was too large for a sandwich, my solution was to change it at the local foodslinger.

For minutes I was in a wonderland of food and excess! A beautiful world of soy bean oil and fake cheeses insisting on their pure cheesiness like a dairy Dorian Grey. I collected my treats and goodies in preparation for pure fat happiness.

In approaching the cashiers, my elation was subdued somewhat when I saw the scads of people seeking middle class food coma. When I noticed the 15 items or less sign, my heart leaped like a leopard! Oh happy day! I can acquire my good with little to no need to wait in the queue for long.
Then the everpresent fear of any urbanite... the Urban Harpy! A creature of such ferocity and hate, it must breed only with deciduous trees (they use the needles as belly armor).

She cut in my line with a bounty of good unsurpassed even by the great pantry's of CAESAR! Nay a word was said by the nearby foragers. Her indignant ruby eyes cowed even me in my frenzy. So we meekly awaited as she proudly assumed her position in line. My comrades grew weary of my foray. They sought me in line as I bowed my head in shame and they knew my dire position.

Cajoling me to exit my sacred positions, soon their words turned into a verbal will o' the wisps. I thought about my options, which were NONE! Their taunts and jeers had begun seeping into my fragile psyche. I started looking for a place to drop my goods like a Prom Mother seeks a nunnery. I began to sneak over to another register to drop off my goods. The demon taunts had poisoned my otherwise innocent mind. I walked slowly so as to not draw attention. Then I heard a clank which was my keys hitting my off-brand spaghetti-os. The people knew I had broken my vow. I left, cowed. I know now I should have done my duty. Now there are goods that belong to me in spirit, however I broke my vow. I left them alone.

When I'm by myself, EVERYTHING is Star Trek

So thats the end, today. I'm sorry there aren't more pictures to hide my writing. If I get enough complaints I'll put some pictures of sea creatures mating in there somewhere. Bye.

-Monty's Baseball Soup

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