Who’s at the Super Bowl, again?

Super Bowl 44 was more entertaining than usual this year, as ancient relic pop band The Who proved that a British band whose greatest fame came before the Super Bowl even existed can outperform American musicians of all kinds, who are all universally terrible, ugly, talentless hacks created and controlled by the same kinds of tyrannical corporations that created Avatar to remind comically disillusioned middle-class first-world semi-humans that they are less caring and human than blue-skinned anthropomorphic cats who live on another planet.

Young American musicians, whose only redeeming qualities are their ability to show off their ugly, deformed tits in a desperate effort to appear edgy, were excluded from this American football concert. The difference in ability between American and European musicians is especially noticeable when considering American musicians such as Chris Isaac, whose hooting, monkey-like country redneck wailings will remind listeners of an effeminate, high-pitched, inbred Klansman with no talent; and, of course, Nickelback, which is semi-American having originated in Canada, yet which sounds neither good nor Canadian.

Oh wait, The Who sucked too? My God, I never could have guessed. I guess the human race has no talent and is incapable of finding anything newer than played-out old guys. Generation X? Fuck ’em. Talentless hacks. All of them. System of a Down? At the Superbowl? Surely you must be joking, the Super Bowl is far too high-class for the likes of Toxicity. Grizzly Bear? Hahaha, don’t make me laugh. Or maybe Arctic Monkeys for that distinctly British sound? Queens of the Stone Age?

As if you didn’t need any more of a clue that the Super Bowl is for middle-aged men with a taste in music dating back to the Jurassic. I’m not saying we need to move on or anything, but seriously.

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A Profound Commentary on Racism in America, or Something

Whether we know it or not, keeping animals really is a form of slavery.

I know, I know, you love your cats, and your cats love you, and they snuggle with you in bed as you go to sleep at night.

But ask yourself this: Does that make it any less a form of slavery?

I mean, think about it. Way back in the olden days, when men were men and women were beaten, I’m sure many slaves snuggled with their masters. I mean, we already know Thomas Jefferson snuggled with his slaves. Think of the implications! Clearly black people screwing with white people is exactly the same as cats snuggling with you.

And animal slavery is predicated on the exact same excuse as black people slavery was. People said the blacks were better off as slaves. They said black people were less capable and less smart than white people.

And what do we say about animals today? That they’re less capable and less smart than people. White people. We have the black people drive our buses and fold our laundry. See? That’s racism.

And, of course, we have black people take our animals. Brings ’em closer to what they once were: You know, slaves. It has nothing to do with the fact that rich white people don’t want to give up the power and influence they’ve kept from blacks for generations.

I’ll give you an example that I think perfectly illustrates what I’m talking about. Recently my family got into the cat-catching business. They were stalking around our yard, eating and fucking and eating and fucking some more, and we decided enough was enough, and decided to catch them. Now, white cats and white people are exactly the same. It’s true, white cats are just as smart as white people, if not smarter. Same with black cats and black people. Which means that black people are an omen of bad luck if they cross your path. And white cats are boring Protestants who like to play golf and tennis and work way too hard.

And let’s not even get started on brown cats and yellow cats, except that the former like fish tacos and the latter like sushi. Try it. I guarantee if you put out sushi yellow cats will come and if you put out fish tacos brown cats will. You think I’m crazy. Try it. Color-based stereotypes work regardless of age, gender, or species.

Now, white cats and black cats and yellow cats and brown cats are all equally smart. I think we all agree with this. Fur color has nothing to do with anything, most cats are really about the same thought-wise and you can find an equal amount of stupid white cats as stupid black cats. Fur is very similar to skin, in that both serve only to protect the body. But skin color is naturally important, whereas fur color is not. According to some people, anyway. Some people think that hair color is important, but fur color is not. But fur and hair are exactly the same. It’s just that hair is something humans have whereas animals have fur. All animals are inferior to humans. Therefore it doesn’t matter what color their fur is. They all just suck equally.

Except for dolphins, which have no hair and are the smartest. According to racial logic, that means bald humans are the smartest.

Anyway, the cats all got into the cage except for the white kittens. I don’t know why. I think it’s because they were kittens and couldn’t find food for themselves. Hitler would argue that their proud Aryan blood would be corrupted if they ate mongrel food, such as you find in a cage. He would check to see if they had blue eyes and blond fur and would argue that these traits will determine whether these white cats make up the master cat race. Nathan Forrest would argue that the white cats should dress up as ghosts of Confederate cats and place burning crosses in front of black cats’ houses.

I’m still trying to find the kittens, because I’m scared for them. They can’t live on their own. They’re fucking kittens, duh. But they are fascinating creatures, aren’t they?

One of these days aliens are going to come to earth. Picture them in your mind’s eye. They’re green things, looking sort of like Doctor Zoidberg from Futurama only green and with tentacles instead of claw hands.

Now, pretend it’s the year 2012, and the Mayans were right and all the dates were correct and the clock is resetting and therefore the aliens who know of us (a race known as Zorbonians) are coming back to get us. They helped build the Pyramids, and they’re coming back to collect. OK?

Now, unlike us humans, the aliens had a different set of traits. Their planet was differently designed. OK? Picture this. They are exactly the same as us intellectually, except for a few things.

They have far more diseases than we do. They have an alien disease that causes boils to form on the sufferer. The victim dies of excruciating pain quickly. But the aliens have developed genetic immunities to this disease.

In addition, their planet, Zorbon, was differently aligned. Our planets’ continents are arranged more North-South. There’s a huge ocean between the eastern and western hemispheres on our planet, where instead of having one solid cluster of continents we have two big huge ones in the Western hemisphere, one in the southeast, one sort of in the middle of all of these and one big horizontal one, and the latter is the one where most civilization started, mostly in the middle.

Whereas the aliens’ planet has one big solid cluster of continents, like Pangaea, only very much centered near the Equator of the planet. This makes it far easier for the aliens to move crops from one region to another, because most of the middle of this continent is all of about the same temperature, and therefore they don’t have to worry about planting corn in the different temperatures of Mexico and Wisconsin or whatever. Their primary crops encompass cereals, leafy greens, legumes, and starches even from the outset of the creation of their civilization, and therefore most of these regions have peoples with good nutrition. Because of their extraordinarily good luck, they are able to develop without any sort of malnutrition.

Because they didn’t have to worry as much about starving to death, they were able to find other ways to kill themselves. They developed bows and arrows extraordinarily quickly, and then moved immediately to guns and cannons, and then nuclear weapons, and then ray guns. In half the time it took us to develop atomic weapons, these aliens developed weapons capable of destroying entire planets.

Got that? So they’ve got deadly diseases that other species can contract, and the continental architecture of their planet is far superior to our own. They got Le Corbusier to design their planet, whereas we got Chucklesworth Bumblefuck, M.A.. And because of that they were able to advance technologically at a far greater pace then we could ever dream of.

There’s more, which basically boils down to that because of their greater technological capacity they were able to advance through the Bronze Age and Iron Age, through the Bessemer Process (in which iron is converted to steel, known on their planet as the Klagmar Process) and finally into the Titanium Age and the Brontonium Age. Brontonium is a metal created when nuclear materials are combined with titanium to form an incredibly strong metal, so hard it can withstand temperatures higher than any ever seen by Man. We haven’t discovered it yet. Fuck you, scientists. You haven’t even found brontonium yet. You should.

Anyway, they decide that they’re bored with their planet. You would, too. Once you’ve explored everything on your planet, you get kind of sick of it. Like with your wife. You get sick of it. You’ve explored her entire body, including orifices neither you nor her knew she had. So now you want to explore other women. I have no idea why she hasn’t left your sorry ass yet. We all know she should. You asshole.

Tiger Woods, I’m looking at you. Anyway…

We’ve explored other planets, but nothing like the Zorbonians. We’ve only got to some heavy petting with probes. We still mostly stay on our planet, occasionally touching her moon. But the Zorbonians have explored orifices on other planets, colonizing, touching them with their tentacles and pleasuring them with their weird tentacle mouth things, like Doctor Zoidberg from Futurama only green.

And so the Zorbonians decide that they want to fuck with some new planets. Now, we’re fucked. Our planet got hit with a meteor, jamming most of our communications n’ shit. The Zorbonians are fast, and they basically bend space-time around itself and get to our planet in time for tea.

They realize we’re good candidates for slaves. We’re clearly inferior, because our technology and civilization is “inferior”. It had nothing to do with extraneous details we had no control over. We’re just “inferior.” Which therefore means they’re doing us a favor by forcing us to do their work.

So they put us in mines and on the fields, working for them. They take away our right to an education, and when we can’t read they say it’s because our brains aren’t as well-developed as theirs are. They take our men back to their planet to work on the fields for them, resulting in a shortage of men on Earth forcing those left to create harems with multiple women in a desperate attempt to keep population numbers stable. This is hindered by the aliens’ diseases, which kill 98% of the human population on Earth within the space of about ten years.

So, by 2022 our population is down to around a hundred and forty million people, from a high of about seven billion. Most are worked to death, because they are “inferior” to their alien overlords and therefore their lives do not matter. They worship different gods, they look different, therefore they are not as good. And that gives the aliens the right to work us to death.

You think that makes no sense. First off, you may be getting sick of this long-winded article, and that’s OK. Secondly, you don’t see what that has to do with racism. It has everything to do with racism.

Black people and native Americans were later to develop technology because they didn’t have good crops and lived on continents that were warm in the middle and cold near the extremes. They couldn’t move quickly, because they could only move places that their crops could grow.

Because it was harder for them to farm, it took them more time and effort to survive, and therefore longer to develop technologies.

And because the native Americans came to America during the Ice Age, most of the diseases they carried died out by the time they made it to America.

Then whites came about and said they were superior to the others, when in reality it was the Eurasian continent that was superior to the Americas and Africa. The white people that lived on it were diseased vermin that didn’t bathe and were imperialistic fucks. And like any kind of vermin, they refuse to go away.

For those of you that still believe in the superiority of the sickening white menace, I would like to urge you to read a fucking book or, as a better solution, move from the South entirely. I know not all Southerners are sickening, but I feel it necessary to be a closed-minded bigot because I’m white.

But seriously, even if whites not enslaved all the black men, left the remainder in Africa to fend for themselves, killed everybody in the Americas, killed everybody in Australia, split China into spheres of influence, forced their philosophies on life on everybody in the known world, used all the world’s resources and then torn up the entire Arabian region and rebuilt it according to which group of white people owned which small portion of desert land, surely even then the world would still be a fucked-up hellhole of racist ignorant assholes who hate each other and want to blow each other up with bombs.

…Right?

StumbleUpon: Now a “Caste-Based Social Bookmarking Tool!”

I would really like to know when StumbleUpon went from being an awesome site-hunting database into a “social networking tool.”

I don’t know when people started calling Digg and StumbleUpon “social networking” sites. And I have no clue when StumbleUpon created its X-rating, permanently restricting communication between X-rated users and lesser users. But damned if all of the above didn’t happen while I was gone.

StumbleUpon doesn’t suck horrifically yet. The awesome is still there. You still get good photos of pretty places, a few programs here and there, some great watermelon soap recipes, you get the idea. You use Stumble, you still get some great stuff.

(Along with the obligatory shit. Like Ctrl-Alt-Del and a billion sites repeating the same fucking joke over and over again. Fuck that shit.)

At some point, though, something happened, and now StumbleUpon is a “social networking giant“.

Now look, I guess I get the label. You see, StumbleUpon users are clicking a little button on their web browser that takes them to a new site, and then they thumb it up and then StumbleUpon takes the site and directs other StumbleUpon users to it. Socially. StumbleUpon users are socially clicking a little button on their web browser to find web sites to waste time on. Probably while alone in their parents’ basements.

But still. We don’t need any more damn “social networking” sites. I don’t need to talk to people on the Internet via StumbleUpon, that’s why I’ve got Facebook. What? Is StumbleUpon going to add an e-poke feature so that I can electronically play grab-ass with other StumbleUpon users while clicking buttons to take me to “pictures of famous Virginians” websites? Is that what StumbleUpon wants to become?

We already have our “Untouchables”, the X-rated users. You can’t talk to X-rated users unless you’re X-rated. That’s a StumbleUpon rule, and it will be enforced by death. You want to talk to X-rated users? Then join them in their filthy X-rated filth, that’s StumbleUpon’s message to you.

I found this out, because I was confused when I realized that somebody I knew on StumbleUpon, named Darkspoons, had at some point vanished. All of the posts she had made anywhere on the site vanished.

Then I realized that another great Stumbler I knew, Bryce3, wasn’t there. And a bunch of others.

Then I realized that both of them had been X-rated, for Christ alone knows what reason.

I decided to join them, because fuck it. While I don’t have a strong desire to see “Super Hornio Brothers II” while using StumbleUpon, if not going X-rated means not seeing peoples’ reviews of pages and their comments, hey, I don’t use StumbleUpon enough to care.

Oh, but of course:


If you're G rated, you can't talk with R-and X- rated Stumble users. If you're R- rated, you can't talk with X- rated. If you're X-rated, you can't talk to anybody but X-rated people.

Seriously. On this “social networking site”, you can be permanently banned from ever interacting in any way with anybody who’s not rated “X”. Apparently a “block posts from this user” feature wasn’t good enough for StumbleUpon, they had to make a blanket rule applying to everybody put into one of three separate groups.

To hell with that. If I want a “social networking” site I’ll use Facebook. No thanks StumbleUpon.

And don’t even let me get started on Twitter. Seriously, the last thing we need is for anybody else to start accounts on that site. Oooh, you say you gave birth to an octopus while simultaneously slaying a dragon by cutting off his leftmost toenail and using it as a potion to cure the great Princess Xandar III of the Gaian Confederacy of her crippling yeast infection? Big fucking deal. I had breakfast this morning. How do you like that, you octopus fucker?

In the end, you could forgive sites like StumbleUpon and Facebook and Twitter. But why would you? They encourage a caste-based social system, one in which there is the “in”-crowd and the “out”-crowd. If we keep on going on like this, we’ll be no better than your common mud-trotting Hindustani, riding upon the backs of stooping elephants who are, in keeping with Hindu religious beliefs, standing atop small turtles.

This is America, dammit! I want my Internet nerdy and anti-social, just like I want my jocks stupid and my computer technical support to be Indian and surly. StumbleUpon and Facebook are doing exactly the opposite, turning the Internet into something fun for even cool people. It’s changing the world, for the worse. I mean, we’ve got people regularly watching horses sticking their dicks into grown human men. Surely something is going to come of all of this. And I guarantee it will be for the worst.

So, if you love America, stop using StumbleUpon and Twatter, because they are up to no good. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get back to my friendly Indian technical support specialist. Something about therapy.

Maddox (George Ouzonian) is a gigantic faggot and you should kill him.

From the LoopyLines mailbag, here’s John G, commenting on my article “Holy Shit, Maddox… Doesn’t Suck?”

Maddox is washed up and now sucking off fanboys at Gaming sites. His site is shit, if you google maddox now all you get is Brangelinas kid info lol. Maddox was cool for about that year then faded off into obscurity and traded in his pirate persona for a king rbe to hide his pasty white ass thats obviously out of shape and doughy from hiding behind a screen his whole life and thinking he’s an innovator. Whaa, email me and i will get my legions (5) of fans to shit in your inbox.

I’m always glad to hear that people are reading this site, especially informed individuals like John G. Way to read my sidebar message to the bottom. I’m afraid that I don’t have enough time to write out a response to John’s comment, but know that I care. That said, John G., I will cut off your foreskin if you dare insult Maddox again. I jacked him off last night while fucking his girlfriend and shitting in his mouth and I can assure you that his ass is not pasty-white, it is more of an Armenian color.

And yes he is fat. He is fat like a motherfucker. No amount of shit your legions of fans could possibly email me could ever match the intense amount of shit stored in Maddox’s colon, comprised entirely of enough hot sauce and beef jerky to sustain a million Kenyans.

Yiff in Hell, Eric W. Schwartz!

Eric W. Schwartz, in case you’ve never heard of him, is the kind of Internet guy that’s so incredibly, disgustingly fucked-up beyond all reason that even pedophiles and lowly webcomic artists look down on him in disgust. He’s so fat he makes you feel like if you punch him in the stomach like he deserves your hand will get stuck in between the rolls of fat and never be able to escape. He’s like an old rotten moldy orange, putrid and spreading his grubby fingers of slime and mold across the dark and festering landscape that is the Internet.

Every website that has ever existed on the whole entire Internet has posted an article about this man, his webcomic Sabrina Online, his obsession with Amiga computer software, and his big fat ass. Yet it will never be enough. Not until he finally decides to pucker up his asshole and stop secreting the shitpile that is Sabrina Online, and finally realizes that he is a big fat pile of worthless who masturbates to Tiny Toon Adventures hentai.

I speak for the entire Internet when I say this, Eric W. Schwartz: Get a diet, get a goddamn career, and stop masturbating to skunk cartoons.

What’s that you say? Masturbates to skunk cartoons? Why yes. Yes, Eric W. Schwartz masturbates to fucking skunk cartoons. He masturbates to cartoon skunks fucking. Sometimes he’ll fuck a skunk cartoon by putting his soft fleshlight in between his mattresses and sticking his pecker in there while watching Tiny Toon Adventures (and yes he has many mattresses, because his fat ass has crushed them all to a microscopic size and he must pile them one on top of the other).

Eric W. Schwartz is a big fat furry that loves to masturbate to cartoons of skunks fucking, especially when one of those skunks is his own character Sabrina, who happens to be his imaginary girlfriend. He will only show pictures of her naked to his closest friends, because she is his girlfriend and if he just let her show the goods to anybody she wouldn’t be special any more, she would just be another cartoon skunk out there looking for a quick screw followed by dinner and a movie.

This is much the same thing that another big fat furry piece of shit, “Chalosan” of the webcomic Las Lindas, did when he posted a picture of one of his characters diving into water wearing her underwear, titled “Skinny Dipping”. He explained that he originally drew her naked, but only showed that one to a friend as a birthday present. Again, furries, giving porn to each other as birthday presents and then censoring it if anybody else tries to see. Not to mention that they’re all socially-retarded fatties. Just thought I’d remind them of that.

Anyway, back to Eric Schwartz and his obsession with naked skunks. For his closest fans, Schwartz has created a website called Fur After Dark, wherein they pay ten dollars and are treated to pornography of anthropomorphic animal “furry” characters that other artists draw better. Of course, Sabrina is not featured. She is too special to be a porno star.

Sabrina is also the mascot for her own computer operating system, did I mention that? She is the (un)official mascot for an operating system called Amiga OS, which is like Windows only twenty-five years old and used only by people that just can’t escape the incredible pull of the eighties. While I do enjoy a quick listen of a Journey song or some Police every now and then, I draw the line at using a computer manufactured when Reagan was in office. Jesus Christ, back then we were talking about sending lasers into space for fuck’s sake. America Online was called Quantum Computer Services and was just as shitty as it is now. Face it, we’ve moved on. Fuck off and enter the Goddamn twenty-first century.

Sabrina’s (and Schwartz’) heyday was 1985. At this point, Schwartz is the cartoonist equivalent of Phil Collins, losing his hearing and incapable of moving beyond his old hits. Only he makes it worse because he draws furry porn. Oh God the furry porn Eric Schwartz draws. Do you want me to tell you about it? Let me tell you about Schwartz’ furry porn.

To begin with, furries are people obsessed with anthropomorphics. It’s not really as exotic as it sounds. It sounds like they’re fascinated with the age-old connection humans draw between themselves and animals as expressed by centaurs and the Sphinx, but in reality it translates into a bunch of fat sweaty nerds gathering to dress up in sports mascot costumes. If furries dressed up like realistic centaurs and wolf-men, or had a few of those Chinese dragons like they have running about Beijing during the Chinese New Year, it could be badass in a nerdy sort of way.

But no. Instead almost all of it is Balto and Mickey Mouse and (especially) Tiny Toon Adventures. There is enough Minerva Mink fanart on the Internet to stretch across the Earth and into Hell and back, and most of it is of her either naked or covered in … well, let’s not discuss it.

This is what Schwartz does. Under an assumed name (T.D.K., apparently short for “The Disgusting sKunkfucker) he drew pictures of  well known childrens’ cartoon characters like Minerva Mink getting raped by tentacles, dildos, and humans that are much larger than they are and should know better.  His cartoon skunk furries and their pornographic misadventures are why furries are called “skunkfuckers”. Well, they aren’t often called that actually, but they should be.

Schwartz, a.k.a. TDK, is a fat fucked-up skunkfucker of the highest order. His mind is full of skunkfucking, his fingers and cock itch for skunkfucking, he longs for cartoon skunk vagina; yet it is cartoon skunk vagina he can never have, because cartoons are not real. So yiff in Hell, Eric W. Schwartz. You will never have what you want, and thank God for that.

Attention Moviegoers: Roger Ebert is Trolling You.

Ask yourself this: If you were a 66 (going on 67) year-old movie critic who’d underwent a tracheotomy, four surgeries to remove cancerous tumors in your salivary and thyroid glands and jaw bone, required further surgery to reconstruct your jaw, and yet still had a group of salivating sychophants hanging on your every word, what would you do?

I think you’d do what I’d do, and what Roger Ebert has been doing for awhile now: say “FUCK OFF, ASSHOLES! WHAT, HAVE MY THIRTY YEARS OF ENLIGHTENING MOVIE CRITIQUES NOT BEEN ENOUGH FOR YOUR SELFISH ASSES!? I’M ABOUT TO DIE! PISS OFF!”

Sure he doesn’t say it like that, but he’d might as well. He thumbed down Star Trek – a movie which 92% of movie critics agreed was good, meanwhile thumbing up Paul Blartt, Mall Cop (which, in case you couldn’t have guessed, is considered one of the worst movies out this year).

But here’s the thing: he’s subtle. He thumbed down Queen Piece-Of-Shit “He’s Just Not That Into You“, while thumbing up good movies like WALL-E because let’s be honest, nobody hates WALL-E. If he’d thumbed down WALL-E obvious troll would be obvious. And we can’t have that.

I never watched Ebert at his “prime”, but right now I’m sure enjoying watching the old fart prove that his fanboys really and truly can’t distinguish a good movie from a bad one without having Ebert give his OK. It’s like people that read John Solomon and say “OMG NOW I CAN’T LIKE MY FAVORITE COMICS ANYMORE!!!” As if critics are the be-all and end-all of everything. Bullshit. If you like it you like it. Hell, I like some of the worst webcomics and movies out there. Because they suck.

It can be just as entertaining to watch a shit movie to watch the director and all his actors stumble all over themselves like retarded monkeys trying to act. Give me some of that shit, it’s hilarious. Let me laugh at Tim Buckley try to talk his stupid ass out of a botched miscarriage strip. Let me read as David Hopkins writes another goofy-assed horror movie fanfic where his deformed furries get raped by demons. Let me laugh at Keanu Reeves pretending to be a super spy. Let me watch Robin Williams try to be a dramatic actor by dressing up in a clown suit and trying to get children to laugh in a cancer ward. Fuck quality acting! That’s some good shit!

Roger Ebert is doing an awesome trolling job. Don’t stop telling him he’s crazy, fans! He might stop.

The Smells of Life

Humans are very weird about smells. Everything about people is designed to smell. And yet humans want to remove their smells from their bodies, to avoid offending others.

Nobody except a person who smells wants to smell a smelly person’s smell. Except their own smells. When you’re first born up to about age five, you only have to smell your own smells, unless your parents are particularly smelly. Then you have to smell your parents’ smells too. You’re usually OK with your own smell. Not so much with your parents’. They go above the limit. The smell limit should not be passed, of course.

Then you smell your classroom on your first day of school. Say it’s kindergarten, or preschool. And you smell the room, and it smells terrible. Now, you figure that your smells smell pretty good, so you decide to let a big one rip. But it doesn’t make it smell any better. In fact, it smells worse. You’ve added another terrible smell to these terrible smells. It’s like a gas chamber. You’re afraid you’re going to die. Death by smell.

This is your first inkling that your smells might not smell so nice. And now the girls say you stink too. But, you don’t want to take a shower. That’s too much to ask, even for a girlfriend. So you try to control the smells. You use all kinds of deodorant, spraying it everywhere it can be sprayed on your body, including unmentionable orifices. You spray it hoping it can mask the fact that you haven’t bathed in three weeks. Unfortunately, you haven’t yet learned that body spray deodorant mixed with three-week old body odor smells like body spray deodorant mixed with three-week old body odor. It’s a smell from hell. You smell like hell. And somehow the girls still don’t like you.

This is your first inkling that corporate America might be lying to you. After all, the AXE body spray commercials clearly show men with women crowding around them in packs after spraying just a little bit of the stuff on their necks, as if it’s some kind of irresistable miracle fluid. Clearly a lie. So you become a hippie, and begin to go to events like Burning Man to get back at The Man. Your smell gets worse. And all the women that are now interested in you smell like patchouli. To hell with that.

Finally, you decide that enough is enough and you’ll begin bathing regularly. Finally you find a suitable woman or effeminate man and begin having copious amounts of sex. But now you can’t just smell your smell. Now you’re smelling somebody else. Now you have to deal with both your smell and this person’s smell. It’s a cornucopia of smells. Your smells mix into new smell. A together smell. You smell nice together.

Then she has babies, and now there are new smells. The babies are little sacks of feces and vomit and piss, and now you have to smell their smells too. And your smell and your significant other’s smell and the baby’s smell and the smell of the house mix together. You have a family smell going now. You recognize the smell of family time. You could be at work, and you’d instinctively know it’s time for home. Time for family smell.

As you get older, your son ends up trying to use body spray to cover up his odors, too. Now you see why nobody would date you in high school.

And then you go to the senior home. Now your smells are really smelly, and people can smell them from miles around. You’re a lot like that baby, with the horrible baby smell. Baby won’t talk to you any more. Baby’s grown into a man, and has found his own smell. He chose an effeminate man to spite you, and now both of them lisp at you for how ignorant you are when you get mad and start spouting off randomly against “the fags” and “the nigras”. Your son and his boyfriend both smell like cherry chapstick.

Then you die. You smell like dead person. That’s not a pleasant smell at all. Smells dead. people that aren’t dead don’t like that smell. They’ve had enough of you and your smells. You’re stinkin’ up the place. So they carry you to the funeral home. They bury you in the ground. Now only plants like your smell. Smells like fertilizer.

I won’t belabor it any more. Smell is your life. Smell is my life. Smell is life. Life is a test. Life is a smell. Life is a test of smells. First you’re supposed to tolerate your own smell, which is easy. Everyone can do that. (Unless they’re a burn victim, or can’t control their bowels. Then it’s much harder.) The second test is the relative smell. Tough test. Third’s other peoples’ smells. Even tougher. Then it’s the sex smell. People like that test. It’s easier. If you’re straight and going with someone of the opposite sex, and they bathe and don’t smoke. As long as all of those things are going, you’ll be fine on that test. Then there’s the baby test. Now that’s a test from Hell. And finally there’s the death test, where you’ve been through all the tests. That test is to test other people. You’re testing people to see if they can tolerate your smell. Great test.

In conclusion, I find it comforting that after having been exposed to all these different smells, that I’ll get to fight back against the smelly fuckers out there by forcing them to smell my dead rotting corpse. Fuck you, smelly people. Everyone else, have a nice day. Have a good life. Have a good smell.