Friday, May 21, 2010

A farting pole and a redneck lunch box.

I have no idea why but the other day I sent a text message to several friends that asked this strange question:
Should a farting contest have some sort of “farting post” you approach and hold onto or something?

None of the people I sent the question to were aware that there were others on the list and yet, 50% of the people responded with:
“Yes, it provides more leverage.”

The other 50% responded with such answers as:
“I would suggest one.”
“I hurt myself on one.”
“It’s a POLE…as in farting POLE!”

I have weird wonderful friends.

It has also just occurred to me, if you’re in such a contest, should you wear farting mitts?”

Today I overheard a comment I think you could only hear in south Arkansas. I don’t want to be stereotypical but, well…you tell me…….
“So when I left the trailer I grabbed the lunch box with the dirty dishes in it.”

Friday, May 14, 2010

Wouldn't work. Vaginas don't blink.

Mice keep yanking my chain. Today was a perfect example. I read an article that said scientists produced mouse stem cells from mouse skin cells. This could be a huge breakthrough, both ethically and medically. The only problem is that the method used on the mice would cause cancer in humans. Fuck you, mice. Give me something I can use!

My disappointment could have been worse. It’s not clear I’ll ever need that particular medical breakthrough anyway. The stories that really chafe my neusters are the ones that sound like this:
“Researchers announced a breakthrough in gene therapy. This new technique gave mice an IQ of 700, grew hair in bald patches, made them sexier than John Reznick, and made them immortal. The mice also showed signs of telekinesis, unlimited male orgasms, and x-ray vision. In lab tests, the mice beat leopards in paw-to-paw combat.”

This makes me all excited because I think, “Heeeeey….I could use a few of those things!!” Then I read the rest of the story and it says something like “The researchers cautioned that this sort of gene therapy in humans would make their eyes turn into vaginas.”

It’s bad enough that I live in a country that ranks 37th in health care. The thing that really pisses me off is that I have worse health care than mice. If I were a mouse, I would start smoking, drinking, overeating and having unsafe sex, because those tiny bastards can be cured of anything with a goddamned aspirin and a shot of their own skin cells.

It makes me wonder if mice are easily cured because of the placebo effect. Mice don’t know anything about science, so they think whatever the scientist is doing must be helping. For example, if a lab mouse sees the janitor pleasuring himself with a test tube, the mouse thinks “Hey, my tumor is shrinking!” And then it does. You can’t underestimate the power of positive mouse thinking.
Just once I would like to see a headline that said, “SCIENTISTS DISCOVER A CURE FOR HUMAN DIABETES,” followed by details that say, “Scientists caution that this treatment in mice would give them inverted erections and make them hump themselves to death.”
Well, I can dream.