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12 May 2006
What's the best method of self-destruction? I'm thinking of boring myself to death.
I was always partial to the idea of getting involved in a love triangle with a psycho killer, myself. That way, at least you'd be assured of some mind blowing sex before getting stabbed and gory in the shower.
Jon, all the "about to be uninsured" means is that you have to hurry is all. Maybe you could date a mobster's daughter? Great story I heard when I lived in Hamiton, ON:
The body of a young man was pulled out of the Hamilton harbour. Turns out the deceased was a young man who had had his junk cut off and stuffed down his through prior to being dragged (they figured) behind a boat for some time. If that wasn't odd enough, it turns out the deceased had been dating the daughter of one of Hamilton's Italian community, if you know what I mean (and I think you do).
Well, here in the cube, there's a hugely cold draft blowing directly at where I'm sitting. Perhaps I could strip, douse myself with ide water and stand in it's path until I catch pneumonia.
What's wrong with slow-and-steady?
I'm feeling very towering inferno today, only stupider and more pointless. I need large infusions of boilermakers.
Remember my guilt-ridden, meeting-calling bar-stealing department manager? She's out for a week getting a tonsillectomy. If I'm lucky someone will switch her paperwork and she'll be confused with a cadaver. A man can dream.
Hey, just make sure when they try and take over the bar, you tell us when, and we can schedule the Janus family reunion there, too. Elbow room, ya got el-bow room, macaroni!
And those ill-wishes are paving stones on your personal path to hell, man. My friends are gonna be there, too.
Also, all bands who think they are being "artistic," and "indie," or transgressive or what the fuck ever when they print their liner notes in unreadable fonts and colors or with cutesy words, you're not. You're just being pretentious pains in the asses and making life difficult for a poor working slug who has to type it in. Same with stupid long remix titles on techno albums, and rap songs with too many fucking guest stars.
Wasn't there a short story about a guy who tried to bore himself to death, or who died of boredom?
I don't know about the short story you mention, but Dunbar in Catch-22 tried to prolong his life through boredom based on the idea that time flies when you're having fun.
According to my theology teacher/pastor (a former Catholic)there is no Purgatory. Sorry.
If there was one, I'd light a candle for you, though.
And no need to go to Hell for good barbecue. Just come down here to NC and I'll get my daughter to fix you a plate (she works at the local Barbecue Hut.) MMMMMMmmmmmmm!
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
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