Dear diary,
If you ever need a door installed; just call me, and I’ll do it for you. I’ll do a good job. Most people who claim to be able to install doors don’t pay any attention to the place where the slab meets the jamb, so what happens is that the door never shuts properly: you will see daylight coming thru where there’s a gap in the frame, even when the door is closed. I guarantee that this is what will happen, if you pay someone else to install your door. But my own door installations are snug and perfect: the door slowly swings shut on its own, and it seals tightly; you never have to struggle with it, to close it. It doesn’t require you to pull or push at all — it just glides shut easily; and you don’t need to jiggle its handle, for any reason.
And when I engineered my own safety lock, it was impossible for thieves to break into it. That’s how good of a design I gave it. You might notice that other locks can be jimmied or picked open by using a thin piece of metal: so, if you’re a thief, you just thrust this metal fragment into the place where the key should go; then move the metal from side to side methodically until the lock clicks open: at this point, having got past the security device, you’re legally allowed to steal whatever item had been under the lock’s protection — if it’s a motorcycle, then simply hop on & ride away; or if it’s a curling iron, then pull a pocket-mirror from your purse and style your bangs.
[Now, in the next paragraph, I plan on using the word “safe”; but NOT as an adjective meaning “protected from danger or risk”, no: instead, I intend to employ it as a noun referring to “an indestructible cabinet for storing valuables.” Alright, now here’s the paragraph:]
Additionally I created a huge safe out of unbreakable material, and, likewise, it cannot be broken into. Normal people will be able to cut right thru any standard safe, by using an oscillating power-saw with a diamond-strength blade. But my safe is impervious to every attack, even miracles — not even God could figure out how to open it. And if I chose to store God inside my safe, he would never get out.
No, that’s not true. I’m only joking about the safe being God-proof. I admit that if God wanted to, he could blast my safe open pretty easily by throwing lightning bolts at its combo-lock. And if I could force God inside of it, he’d only make himself expand and expand until the safe explodes open like a popcorn kernel. Then he’d fly back to his mountain, too fast for me to catch him. But I think that this is actually a good argument for how strong my safe truly is, since one must be God Almighty in order to break into or out of it.
Yet, did you ever wonder how God manages to expand himself so large, whenever he needs to escape from a predicament, like in the scene above when I imprisoned him in my safe? (Once I reveal the trick to you, you’ll say: “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself!” because it’s actually pretty obvious.) — To expand past the breaking-point, all God does is just pray to himself, over and over, saying: “Please make me bigger, O LORD, and I promise I’ll sacrifice my firstborn to you.” Then he just keeps answering this same prayer again & again, and the cycle of praying-&-answering causes his presence to enlarge physically at an exponential rate. And since he’s already sacrificed his own firstborn to himself, and he has no other children, he’s already “paid” for this service; unlike Jephthah, who screwed up when he vowed and ended up having to serve his own daughter to God:
Judges 11:30-40
Jephthah vowed a vow unto the LORD, and said, “I promise, if thou shalt help me win the War on Terror, then when I return victorious after the battle, the very first creature to come forth out of my barn to meet me shall surely be the LORD’s, and I will offer up the creature as a home-cooked meal, which the LORD can then eat; for I am assuming that one of my cows will inherit this fate.”
So Jephthah went to Afghanistan and fought Terror Itself; and the LORD delivered Terror into Jephthah’s hands. And he smote Terror, and inflicted upon it a very great slaughter. Thus Terror Itself was subdued before Jephthah.
And after more than twenty years, Jephthah returned home victorious from Afghanistan. And as he approached his barn, behold, his daughter came out to meet him with timbrels and with dances: and she was his only child; beside her, he had neither son nor daughter — only cattle.
And when he saw her, he smacked his own forehead, and said, “Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me very low, and thou art a cause of distress to me: for I have promised the LORD to prepare you as a well-cooked meal, and I cannot go back. And God likes his meat extremely well-done, even burnt.”
And she said unto him, “My father, if thou hast promised to feed the LORD, then prepare me according to the recipe that seemeth most likely to please our God; forasmuch as the LORD hath allowed thee to win the War on Terror, and oh-so swiftly: in only twenty years or more!”
§
Also, when I approach them, bunny rabbits do not run from me. This is because I’ve formulated a voodoo technique that helps me to radiate a type of soulful essence, which appears to rabbit-kind as a scented glow. They take this in almost the same way that we humans would react to a friendly speech from a foreigner who arrives on our shores in a canoe, shouting “I come in peace bearing gifts of gold!” So we would welcome this stranger, even tho he should be treated as an enemy — we would refrain from stabbing him with our daggers, because we’re partial to riches. In a similar way, a rabbit both sees and smells a lovingkindness emanating from my soul, so that the instinct to flee from me does not even need to be overridden. I can then walk up and cradle the creature in my arms, and sing to it. Just yesterday, as a matter of fact, while I was chopping carrots in preparation for making a stew, I looked out the window and saw a fat healthy rabbit on the lawn. I immediately abandoned my task and ran directly at the creature with both my arms extended and all my fingers splayed, while yelling “RAH!” with excitement, and he did not run away; so I gave him a great big hug. He was totally calm; he just kept chewing. Then I went back inside and continued working on the stew.
§
Another accomplishment that I’m known for is perfecting the whole “STEM” school phenomenon. You see, back in the 21st century, there was this terrible fad in the United States to name all schools after the acronym:
S = Science
T = Technology
E = Engineering
M = Mathematics
And this approach was used to spread misery all over the land. But then I rode out to the building where all the major decisions are made, and I parked my horse and addressed the secretary at the greeting desk, saying:
“I have an idea.”
And she said, “Go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking; and I’ll pass it on to the leaders. I’m sure they will implement it.”
So I explained that we should add certain subjects to the curriculum, and, at the same time, we should subtract others.
Thus, after I solved this awful problem, all the schools got named correctly. So now all the children are receiving the ultimate education. And this has had a healthy effect upon the country: There’s now no hunger, no homelessness, no disease, no crime, and no divorce — for every single person is happily married. For now the new acronym is:
S = Science
T = Technology
I = Imagination
M = Mathematics
P = Poetry
Y = Yodeling
To be honest, this was one of the finest ideas I ever had.
And once you’ve made such a valuable impact upon your culture, and you know that future generations will remember you as a hero, you can’t help but wonder: Where exactly do all my good ideas come from? Am I genuinely their author? Or is there some Alien Deity sending me direct messages, via brainwave?
The answer is that all thoughts come from the food that we eat. That’s why I was making the stew above, in the scene with the rabbit. Think about it: Your brain is made up of cells, and those cells came from the meals that your mother digested: Edible matter arises out of the garden and enters her stomach, where it is converted into milk; and that milk travels out thru the breast into your delicate baby-gut, where the milk begins to coagulate into thicker, fleshy material known as “red meat” — and this material collects inside your skull, until your head fills up with brains. It’s like a hard-shell balloon, replacing the helium with sausage. Then, when you are old enough to be weaned from your mother’s bosom, you go out into the world and find other adult women, and take nourishment from their bosoms, and human digestion converts all the vegetables into ideas, while all the animal fat gets refashioned into muscles.
That’s why a vegetarian diet will make you into a successful inventor; whereas a roast-flesh diet will aid the lifting of heavy objects. I myself consume mostly roots and spirits, that’s why my thoughts are very light and bright, whereas my physical strength is negligible. This is the best way to live, because the human form is smart enough to use robotic limbs to do all the heavy lifting. I have a full-body mechanical suit that I wear: it’s more than twice the size of an average man, and it moves me around the world automatically, by responding to my whims: I don’t need to lift a finger — my suit does everything; I just float inside it and think. Moreover this suit’s exterior resembles a grizzly bear; and, since I’m an even-handed master, I allowed the suit to christen itself: and it chose the name “Mister Brown”.
I’m also the one who figured out how to make the New York Stock Exchange appear so neat. When you go in there and see all those display screens with all those glowing numbers racing across them — all that is my creation: I was the art director. All the papers that are littered all over the floor, and the noisy atmosphere, and the way that they ding the bell to indicate the beginning of each match or festival — all this decor was my idea. I also dreamt up the concept of “K Street”, and I paved it myself. (K Street is the area in downtown Washington, D.C. where many lobbyists, lawyers and advocacy groups have their offices.) And I also personally paved Wall Street, which was quite an undertaking, for it is eight blocks long — that’s considerably more work than paving your average driveway. I originally wanted to make it a full ten blocks, but I ran out of asphalt. If you get a chance to walk over there someday, note how many financial businesses are located there. I’m kinda proud of that.
§
But the enterprise that I think I’ll be most remembered for is the one that’s now become known as “the evil infant”. When it was in the prototype stage, it was just called “the bad baby” or “child of hell”. It came about as I was reflecting on one of my own remarks that I made while conversing with a couple of my drinking buddies at the pub — I said:
“Isn’t it strange how even the most wretched and atrocious individuals were helpless, innocent babes on the day they were born?”
This led me to wonder what it would be like if, straight out of the womb, a child were to emerge as violent and heartless as most people are when they reach adulthood.
Now, despite the aforesaid brand names, which are just attempts at marketing this product, I don’t mean to invent a spawn whose biological father is literally Satan — that idea doesn’t interest me at all: only church folk like that type of stuff: I’m talking about a genuine mercenary who will terrorize everyone within reach, from the instant he is born (all these babes will of course be males) — the newborn boy will pop out and instead of wawling and crying when he first smells the air, and mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms, this infant will sever its own umbilical cord with its teeth, and it’ll choke its mother dead, and then turn around and slay the doctor, and then it’ll hack to pieces the rest of the staff in the delivery room.
From there, it goes out into the world and makes a career for itself as a professional killer. For, very soon it will learn that it is unwise to give away its talent for free, by simply murdering indiscriminately, just out of the goodness of its heart. It will learn the optimum amount to charge the U.S. government for its services. This will help the kid put itself thru college, and then it’ll be able to become an arms dealer somewhere. And all its work will remain officially classified — that way, it won’t have to worry about having to answer for any of its actions; thus it can keep growing worse and worse.
1 comment:
Entertained!
Post a Comment