Bus Passes Should Be Issued With Mandatory Psychiatric Reviews.

It's a widely accepted fact that people who ride the bus are completely bat shit crazy. No one's disputing this, in fact when I sit down on the bus I take a quick survey of the people sitting around me and assess them as possible threats. I sit down and try to puff out my chest like a mexican fighting cock whilst putting on my best "Don't Fuck With Me" face. Out of the six or seven people surrounding me I pick out the ones most likely to be cannibals, or crazy people and those who are weak and docile in nature. I then make a quick mental calculation of the best geographical position to be in; in case either of the former decide to lash out so that I might appease them by flinging the latter at them as I make good my escape, like a tribal Mayan offering up a sacrifice to my vengeful demigods, this is how I ride the bus.
The most intimidating member of the bussing community however is the talkers, not the loud obnoxious teenagers prattling on about their last math test. I'm referring to the ones that will frequently present those around them with hypotheticals pertaining to what they would do if they were offered happiness, eternal happiness, or perhaps they will try and tell you about their evening spent sifting the demons out of their socks so that they would once more be able to watch VH1. Or maybe you will spy them drawing circles over and over again in their gigantic notebook. For the incredibly lucky watcher there will occasionaly be the treat of watching one pick his nose, contemplate it for a second or two and then quickly lodge his treasure back where it came from, then looking around with a face that is meant to say, "Gonna save THAT one for later!" to the rest of the horrified passengers.
Sadly, this is my 4th time riding the bus after an absence of as many years and I've already seen and catalogued at least a dozen of these rare specimens.
These people are either entirely insane or insanely genius. These are the people that will one day colonize the moon, not by choice, but because the rest of humanity will become tired of pretending we care and will ship them off so that they might form their own so golden age of knowledge, while we fly by once every week to shoot a crate of supplies at them and then speedily fly back to the world we have created. A world that is one step closer to Utopia.

Irrational Fear #3

I refuse to pee directly into the water at the bottom of an unfamiliar urinal or toilet for fear of the dreaded Candirú.


That is the most terrifying 5 and a half centimeter being on earth. Actually it kind of reminds me of the luck dragon, only no arms. Like luck dragon larvae or something.

Irrational Fear #2

A race of robot scientists are planning to kill my parents in order to make me cry. Re: fear #1.

With Congratulations To Bob Rock

Whilst watching the Juno's (sorry) and wondering why in god's name someone picked that reanimated, though still sexy, corpse Nelly Furtado to host, I decided that it was because most of the known world is controlled by one man's, or many men's erections. And Nelly, though vacuous and less than eloquent, is still about a 6:5 on the Richter Scale of boner inducement. Pondering this further I have decided that most things that happen in our world are due to the boners of men.
Women in a position of power, though super hot to those who enjoy being pooped on and/or tied up, are for the most part, a major wood chopper. Gay marriage, arguably very damaging to a man's erection since it brings to mind many images that most men cringe at is largely held back because of the damage it does to old men's already fragile erections.
Nuclear proliferation, that's right, the nuclear proliferation. Let's face it, women would cease being hot if their skin was sloughing off or they were growing extra vagina's or something, for most men, one vagina is too much to handle. Not this one though, just ask the 2000 Olympic Spanish synchronized swimming team, you almost made it girls. And then there's the straight up buzzkill of nuclear winter, think about it, a Sports Illustrated Snowsuit edition? That doesn't work at all.
So I say thanks to all those boners out there that are in a position of power, thanks to you maintaining yours our children's children will grow old enough to be sexually confused by almost everything the world throws at them.

I will sing of your strength in the morning. Psalms 59:15

One of my coworkers recently quit after a minor tiff with the management, it was too bad really. He was a nice guy, with some interesting, but entirely false stories. In keeping with his standing as my favourite co-worker he quit in a way that wasn't quite what you would expect from a 68 year old, 2 time retiree. Apparently just before leaving, he subscribed to one of those daily text messaging services, this one with a daily bible verse, on every single one of the company phones. Frankly I'm jealous, everything I had planned for my last day pales in comparison to the fact that we will now receive daily affirmations of our faith in the lord, and it will cost the company money. I was just going to pee in the coffee filter or maybe release a rat in my bosses office, but those things don't seem quite good enough anymore. The notch has been kicked up so to speak, so here's my new idea: I pee on a rat, wrap it in papier machet made entirely out of the bible and using my semen as the adhesive, and then I leave it in the coffee room.
Good right?

The sad truth

Spring is here

God bless, unfurl the banners and alert the trumpeteers for I declare the most righteous of all seasons has arrived at last. Run naked through the streets and fornicate with all you see for the horniest of times have arrived.
Seriously, seems like this time of year everyone is casting off the shackles of winter clothing and dressing in combinations that would make the Victoria Secret summer catalogue blush. God bless, it's not even warm enough for some of these awesome little outfits. But it seems that as soon as humanity is able they will push then limits the fuck those limits sideways. The temperature barely peeks above the edge of the melting point and these brave women throw their legs, chests and midsections onto the mercy of the elements.
Good times are had by all, walking through the park today I even saw some scrawny goth cast off his full trench coat and parasol and engage in an impromptu chorus line with woodland critters. I challenge anyone to be in a bad mood when you can see the sun after 6 months of darkness and freezing rain. It's like we've just walked out of the apocalypse into the most wonderful day. The children's cancer ward is filled with laughter on days like these. And if not, cheer up baldy, it's springtime.