Disco Dick

Hey, it's me.

T-Shirt Compeition

The most amazing thing about holding a t-shirt competition is how many t-shirts you have to design yourself before any of the assholes in your class decide they can do one too. It's really not that hard, and it really is really easy. We all know photoshop, we all know illustrator, we are not inept four year olds who don't realize the importance that 'L' makes in the spelling of public. We are mercenaries of design. Hired for our knowledge of awesome and expertise in making things, for a lack of a better expression, look pimp. So here I am, with all these pimped out t-shirt designs, as a judge, ready to judge ANY other entries that take place, and low and behold, the citizens that make up tomorrow's best and brightest are working on some trivial task such as placing the locations of all the soccer stadiums in Argentina. How is this important? I'm sure it is. Somehow. Now I will know where the best places to buy a four dollar ticket to watch idiots kick around a rolled up cow bladder take place.

So the song. I have not worked on it that much, but I will reveal its contents. The title: Let's get fat together.

Refrain:

Your soft velvety skin that I've been admirin',

Has got me wonderin' If gluttony's a sin.

Them cream filled donuts you eat may be increasing your seat,

You're my tasty choc-late treat and some day our curves will meet.

Get fat for me woman and I'll stay forever true.

Let's get fat together and I'll make sweet love to you.

Through the thick and the thin I hope you'll be able to see,

I'll be there for you holding a bucket of KFC.

YES.

qotd:

" You know what's weird? I'm standing right behind you."

" Yeah, that's kind of weird. You know what's really weird? This guy is taking a shit right beside me."

Conjugate This Bowel

Because people don't recognize these are drugs. Put your heart on a platter.

The sacrifices people suffer for vanity makes my mind meander into methods of emaciation. The first goal seems to be to lose weight. Weight is a designation of our mass times the gravity affecting it. Weight is just a number. You weigh less on the moon. People obsess with a representation of a number. Just like age. Our perception of that number fuels our thoughts of weight loss. How does one lose "weight" How about cutting off a limb? I always think a better question is: "Do you feel healthy?"

Then there is the inevitable "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels," which is just as ridiculous as the first time I read it. You cannot compare a feeling to a sense, they are disparate things, a feeling is generated from a sense. It's like saying it smells better than I feel. Veins are meant to help guide conversation, not confuse you, or slash open, letting the red pour out hoping desperately that it clots.

For those of you who don't know. CLA, or conjugated linoleic acid, is a supposed weight loss drug marketed by Jamieson Laboratories as a supplement. It affects insulin resistance and increases the chance of diabetes. Apple cider vinegar acts as a diuretic, giving into dehydration and the appearance of thin. Green tea extract contains anti-oxidants alongside caffeine, a psychoactive stimulant, diuretic, laxative. Guarana, similar situation to caffeine. The inescapable question as I sit here drinking this green tea and eating my ricotta danish becomes, "Is it worth it?"

We have a new song coming up. It's self written, just to change it up. We are calling it, "Let's get fat together."

qotd: "I eat meat because if I didn't people would think I was gay."

This is Murder

This is Murder.

I was reading an article on murder the other day, and it got me thinking. What compels me not to murder you? I should hope something does, otherwise I'd have killed many. There are a myriad of things that I feel prevent us from murdering one another, a sort of agglomeration of non-murdering rules. Life sans homicide is invariably tied to three systems:

First, law, we know that if we kill someone, we go to jail. Oooooooh, jail. Jail is that kind of place that you go when you run out of money to buy things. Like a giant hotel full of free food, beds, and toilet paper. It is but a place of constraint, and people dislike being constrained, but mortgages are constraint, and prisoners don't have mortgages. I would rather work for food then be in constant fear of losing my house.

Second, religion, because this doesn't really affect me at all, I think that people who use this as a reason are silly. How does this type of reciprocity work? Plus if I was catholic I could just ask forgiveness. Oh shit, I just shot that fucker and now he's dead. Forgive me. Done. Easy like Monday morning. Nevertheless, these two forgone, I am left with the last reason.

Sickness. It is just that murder makes me feel ill. To close the throat and squeeze hard, to crush the windpipe and leech the last breaths of life with my fist. To pull a trigger with that finger of the same name, an index of death popping one right through your skull, through the mouth an exit wound. But for some reason, I hesitate, the idea of killing someone makes me feel sick. Anthony Burgess sick.

So here is my conclusion. We have forgotten how to kill one another (or anything except pesky annoyances). I suppose this is good. The bodies would start piling up otherwise, and where would we put them? We used to have to kill for food. Not that we are cannibals, but you do realize that meat is but dead animal. If we hunt, we are more likely to feel less sick when killing. I have never hunted anything in my life except mosquitoes. Those bastards spill blood like a stuck pig, but it is my blood. I should just hunt vampires.

I am going to montreal next week. I am turning into a locavore. Totes.

qotd: "He's like eminem, except he is from the 90's. Oh, and he's black."