Days That Will Live In Lunacy

(Kansas, “Magnum Opus”. From Leftoverture. Submitted to Youtube by user panosc2.)

Hey, even a broken comedy show's funny twice a millennium.

Hey, even a broken comedy show's funny twice a millennium.

The last few days were important days for me. They were of course not important days for our country, because realistically President Barack “Saddam” Hussein Obama “Bin Laden” has been President since Sarah Palin mentioned, via Tina Fey of Saturday Night Live, that she could see Alaska from her house. At that moment, any hope, any prayers that maybe, just maybe Sarah Palin was not a complete and utter dunceface from another planet were shattered. America was afraid that the same stupid people that elected George W. Bush for two terms would actually vote for this woman to become President of the United States, pending John McCain’s untimely and totally-not-expected death by the tag-team duo of Father Time and Mister Heart Disease. Americans watched, suspiciously via binoculars, at their neighbors’ windows at night, looking for any signs that their neighbors might vote Republican, and possibly so that they might see their neighbors’ wives’ barely-legal daughters wearing frilly undergarments.

Actual back seat of a Toyota Tacoma pickup.

Actual back seat of a Toyota Tacoma pickup.

In the end, everyone voted for Barack Obama, as they were supposed to, and anybody that voted for McCain didn’t matter, because they’re just racist ignorant retarded rednecks anyway, and very few people were actually charged with voyeurism, so everything worked out OK in the end. Barack Obama took the Oath of Office, although Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts required an interpreter at several points and may have to secretly administer the Oath again. (Update: And then after that Oath they may have to do it again because the Christian conservative Roberts forgot his Bible.) Several singers belted out African American soul versions of various patriotic tunes. Gay people in the streets are still angry, because nobody will listen to them. And of course I still haven’t gotten the green Toyota Tacoma pickup truck I’ve wanted since I began to want one a couple years ago. As an aside, just recently I checked one out at our local Toyota dealership. Everybody agreed that it was a nice enough vehicle, but that it was “not suitable for road trips” as its back seat is approximately as comfortable as a Medieval church pew and much less attractive.

Of course, much more important things happened in the past three days or so. For example:

  • Just now, while writing the last full paragraph, my leg touched some gum somebody stuck to the bottom of the computer table I’m writing at.
  • Nekosexuality does not equal bestiality, seriously you guys.

    Nekosexuality does not equal bestiality, as SpikeRulesHell proves.

    On the TwoKinds forums, forum poster “SpikeRulesHell”, the one who I said “claimed to perform oral sex on his cats” when I wrote my review of TwoKinds, has said that he “has never actually had sexual relations with any living creature, human or otherwise”. This was not terribly shocking to anybody on the forums or in the known universe. The idea that SpikeRulesHell has actually had sex is as laughable as the idea that I’ve had sex. The idea that either of us have gotten to have sex with any other living being is so laughable, in fact, that the late comedian George Carlin often used it in his stand-up routine.

  • We, meaning “my closest family consisting of my mother and grandmother, and a dog that was never toilet-trained,” cleaned our house on Sunday and Monday this past weekend. If you know us personally, you will know that this is an event that is, by conservative estimates, as momentous as the moment Christ comes back to Earth, in that it happens on basically the same timeframe. While cleaning our house, we came across many artifacts from our dog, which she had deposited underneath her leopard-print dog bed and never informed us about. We also cleaned my city of little dead plastic people, Luigiville. We bought new tables to put it on and we’re going to install little dead plastic drawbridges and probably (if time allows) enact little dead plastic zoning regulations and building codes. We are serious about this city. It is going to be awesome when it is done. You will want to invite your family to see it, and I will charge you money to see it, to pay off all the insane bills I’ve accumulated putting it together. Just trust me, it’ll be great.

With the news of Luigiville getting cleaned up, it is of course time for our nation’s college students, especially those at the University of New Mexico, to go back to school, to learn about things like the following True Facts:

  1. There are absolutely no math teachers at the University of New Mexico that can speak English without using comical accents, so that “one plus one is equal to two” sounds like “Vaughn ploos Vaughn ees squeeggle two.”
  2. Sociology teachers routinely do things like get as close to somebody at a party as they possibly can, and when that person inches away they inch closer, to see how long it takes before the victim either screams out at the sociologist in frustration or kills himself. This forms the basis of modern sociology in a nutshell.
  3. There are sociologists that study relationships between humans and aliens. They are called Astrosociologists.
  4. Rachel Whiteread, exhibiting the crazy stare of an psychopath.

    Rachel Whiteread, exhibiting the crazy stare of a psychopath.

    There is at least one woman artist (she’s English, of course) whose entire art career consists of filling rooms of houses with plaster and removing everything inside, including doorknobs, so that only the plaster remains. Her name is Rachel Whiteread, and she is certifiably insane.

These are just some of the many things I’ve learned in my first two days of this semester of college. I also learned that nose hair trimmers have the smallest motors of any type of grooming product. And, finally, that if you clean a nose hair trimmer enough it will rust and will yank the hairs inside your nose. These facts, I am certain, will be very important for me personally someday.

Today I ate at Schlotsky’s with my friend Dessabrina, the acclaimed Pagan Lesbian Transformers Slash Fanfiction Writer who has been featured in many outstanding Internet publications. We are hoping to eat lunch soon with a new friend of mine, Nikki, who apparently wants to talk with Dessie some more. Dessie, of course, has also expressed great enthusiasm at talking to Nikki. This should be great. If gay marriage is ever legalized, and Nikki turns out to be gay, and she marries Dessie, it will be an adorable wedding and a very cute couple. I, being Very Not Gay but supportive of gays’ rights, will do the decorating. I will make sure it is a fabulous wedding.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on with me this week. Tune in next time, when we find out whether Dessabrina has found a new girlfriend, through me, and watch as I try to find a friend who is both a girl and not a lesbian. It’s the Challenge of the Century! Be sure to laugh at me. I’d do the same for you.


Attention: The Boltzmann Brains Need Your Help! Send Donations Today

Genesis, “Land of Confusion”, 1986, posted to Youtube by Astralroundabout

The Internet does a lot of things to a lot of people. For example, furries. Now, in a normal environment, a person–let’s call this hypothetical person “Tom Fischbach”–who loves his cat–we’ll call her “Flora”–so much that he draws an entire comic about her–we’ll call this hypothetical comic “TwoKinds”–would instantaneously be considered a complete wackjob such as has not been found this side of planet Pluto. But on the Internet, this type of person thrives, to the point that other people–we’ll name our hypothetical person “SpikeRulesHell, Templar GrandMaster of the TwoKinds Forums”–feel it necessary to discuss on his forums about their having performed oral sex on their cats. Now, we could argue that I, The Luigiian, having drawn entire comic strips about my dog, Sissy, would be on the same level as people like these. This could be argued–I would disagree, primarily because Sissy is a dog, not a cat–but regardless of what you think of these types of people, they simply cannot be put on the same level as those disgusting psychopaths who call the website Something Awful home. These Something Awful forum members are so deeply mentally distressed that they forced me, at 12:28 in the morning, in my underwear no less, to write about the Boltzmann brains hypothesis today.

Apparently, one Ludwig Boltzmann was a hippie from the nineteenth century who insisted that there were nonexistent brains floating around in space.

A little bit of background is necessary, and this background I shall steal from Wikipedia without asking. You see, in the universe there is a force called “Entropy”, also known as “The Refrigerator Contents Force.” The way it works is, that energy, like the contents of your refrigerator, is gradually becoming more and more disorganized, so that even as you have the same amount of stuff as you had in your refrigerator several months ago, you can’t use any of it, because it is behind the milk carton, which I might add is several months past its sell by date, so you can’t use that either.

However, there is another force acting in your refrigerator–let us call this force “disgusting cockroaches”. Now, these disgusting cockroaches are little dirty bastards, and therefore are an excellent way to describe hoomans. But clearly they are examples of this disorganization in your refrigerator being reversed, right? Or at least they’re proof that there is some kind of organization going on here. I mean, they’re organized enough to completely consume every bit of food inside of your refrigerator, for God’s sake, including the fruitcake your Aunt Edna made for Christmas, which is organization on a level even the Mafia couldn’t undertake, or else you would have already given the damn cake to them for fuck’s sake. And they’re definitely self-conscious enough to not think for a moment about you, the poor schmo who bought all this food for himself and is currently feasting on the dog food he bought for his dog because he loved her enough to make entire comics about her. Clearly, these organized cockroaches couldn’t have existed without the organization of your refrigerator, but your refrigerator is pretty disorganized, right? I mean, it just keeps on becoming more and more disorganized. It seems like it should already just be a giant festering disorganized mold by now. So if your refrigerator is still pretty organized but things just keep on becoming more disorganized, well, dammit, you’ve had your refrigerator for it seems like about a billion years and the cockroaches have been there at least half as long, so why in the hell does your refrigerator seem so organized whenever it keeps on becoming more disorganized?

And then you think: Holy shit! And you turn around to find your entire house a mess. The apparent organization of your refrigerator was an island of organization compared to the rest of your house, which is crazy. And then you think: But wait a damn minute here! My closet is still organized, too! Just like my refrigerator! And in your closet you find: Ghostly nonexistent organized cockroaches floating around.

It turns out that your refrigerator was organized because of random fluctuations in space-time that make it more organized than the rest of your house, which is not organized. And the roaches that live inside your refrigerator think that everywhere is just as organized as your fridge, but that’s only because the organization of your fridge–you know, organized in that everything in there is food, except possibly the fruitcake–keeps them alive. And the ghost-roaches in your closet exist without real bodies because there was only enough organization to make them think that they were alive, when in reality they do not exist, because there’s not enough organization to make them exist.

That is the Boltzmann Brains theory in a nutshell, if I read the Wikipedia article correctly. Basically, according to this gonzo “philosopher”, the reason that entropy is increasing in our universe but seems so low to us is because we were created out of an island of non-entropy. And so everything to us seems all peachy-keen like, because we get to live in Not-So-Much-Entropy Land, while there are starving children on Planet Zargon-5 who have to live with lots of entropy, and thus don’t get to take a trip on Einstein’s Super Relativity Brain-Busting Science Ride like we do.

And that’s only the half of it, according to Boltzmann anyway. Not only do some people have to deal with more entropy than us–I’m looking at you, Janet Reno–but there are some places in the universe where sentient beings don’t even get to have bodies. There’s so much entropy around them and so little energy to live off of that they’re just brains floating about in space, having pretend lives and believing that they’re living just like we are, on a nice little Earthen flat relatively devoid of entropy, excepting that they’re really just brains floating about in space. Excepting that we could be these brains floating about in space, because we’d never know, because we’d still think that we were living in states of relative non-entropy.

And how does this guy explain the whole ridiculous idea? Random fucking fluctuations! Let me remind you that that might be how Hitler was created. He says the whole entire universe is the product of a random fluctuation, and that our world is the product of a smaller random fluctuation, and that the only reason we perceive our little lovey-dovey happy happy universe as having less entropy is because it’s not normal, and the only reason we see it that way is because that state of existence–one without so much of The Refrigerator Contents Force–is the only reason we exist. And if it weren’t for that, we would be made by the little tiny fluctuations that make the peasant bodyless Boltzmann Brain People, living on the streets, on whatever little scraps of random entropy fluctuations happened to pass by.

And that, random Google stumbler, would suck.

Usually, I’m not a very charitable guy. I mean, I give money to the Defenders of Wildlife, but that’s only because they give me wolf shirts in return. So this is unusual for me, but I say it’s time to devise a charity. We’ll call it the “Give energy to the Boltzmann Brains” fund. The way it works is, you give, say, twenty-three milliwatts of your energy to our fund, and we’ll use special space-age technology from the (not Boltzmann) brains at General Electric and NASA to send your energy to a Boltzmann Brain in need. With your contribution, within a month a needy Boltzmann Brain could have the energy necessary to be rescued from the clutches of chaos. Within a year, he (or she) might have the ability to develop a real working cellular body structure. And within forty years, that Boltzmann Brain might finally be able to have the ultimate realization of sentient consciousness: the prostate examination.

Send your donations to: “World Boltzmann Brains Federation”, c/o The Luigiian, West Earwig, Wisconsin, 90210. Remember: the Boltzmann Brains need your help.

Not to mention Tom Fischbach. Especially if you’re a psychiatrist.