downloading the power of satan into a russian ceramic dish set...

Maybe I can understand the power of my brain if I use the whole thing instead of just ten percent. That's it. That's the key to life. It's not forty two or run on sentences that force the reader to continue thinking because they have realized that the thought they are experiencing isn't finished yet which is frightening to them because they have the attention span of a nanosecond due to the instant coffee one hour photo instant gratification lifestyle of the good ol' US of A. It's just using the full potential of that fat slab of grey matter between your ears that is three feet above your ass and isn't your hairpiece that was made in the swiss alps by snow bunnies. And by snow bunnies I mean actual rabbits that live in a wintry environment and not slutty bimbo chicks. Although, who could complain about either? Both are cute cuddly and only good for one thing. Novelty candy manufacturing. Maybe in a perfect world where I don't make incorrect movie references(Yes, I am still thinking about that, thank you very much) I can begin to understand the ability within me. Then when I have enough time in the god damn day to finish all I set out to do in that single twenty four hour period I can rule the world with an iron skillet I fry tofu in with eggplant and some garlic and olive oil. That sounds good. I should really cook more complexly for myself. Another thing I have to learn!!!!!!!!!!! Where in the almighty effing hell did I get this idea that I could begin to do everything I set out to do? It's like my parents raised me with the idea that if I set my mind to it I can do anything. Shit me out on a cracker and call it pate. I feel like a fit of laughter after it's over. You know that feeling? The one of longing and wonder. The longing for what you feel like you are missing and the wonder of how it will never most likely in all chances in hell happen and how you can find something that is at least semi good enough to take your mind off of it. Whoa, that was not on subject at all. That is one of those sentences that is going to get me a phone call about if I am okay or not. HINT HINT.
Two rabbits are walking through a field of strawberries and they are talking the usual things rabbits talk about. Life, love, taxes, and how to call upon satan for magical powers and useful hand tools to make small wooden objects with more easily without one of those pesky "contracts" for their souls. One is named Carl and the other is named %%(#*#*$&*&%$fivetwosixnineeightbennytomsixsixsixsplecstein, or paul for short as his junior high schoolmates used to call him. In high school he was known as shitstaincriesforhismomlikeabitch. He didn't much care for that nickname so he went by the one from previous years of his life, you know, the ones he enjoyed and didn't cry himself to sleep every night trying to figure out a way to get a fucking lemonade without having to sing sitting on the dock of the bay with his pants down in front of the varsity cheerleading squad while they cheered and spelled out dip-shit for the whole fucking school. So, Carl and "Paul" and walking along and "Paul" tells Carl that he has ebola and is dying from it, as if the vomiting black shit that is actually his insides decomposing and spilling out his mouth wasn't obvious enough, and Carl is now most likely infected and will be suffering a most horribly painful death as well that could have been easily avoided if he had just paid that parking ticket he got in 1986. The moral of this story is simple. If you don't see it I can't help you. If you really want to know just ask the guy with ebola who lives next door to you. It's true, one in three people in america has ebola and the funny part is that they got it from making sandwiches with mayonnaise. Tell all your friends.

Two days until the day after tomorrow is twelve days from now

Maybe you should stand up. Maybe I shouldn't think about buying chicken and thinking "What the fuck did I buy this for" I don't eat meat." Maybe it has something to do with my family. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you are reading this and I typed it is gonna cause the end of the world. What if I am the guy who ends it all? What if I am the person who inexplicably and unexpectedly brings about the total destruction of the earth? There could be people in the future who are waiting for the end of the world and are planning to travel back in time to stop me by any means necessary to keep the earth from being destroyed and completely ruining their chances of finally asking out that one girl who seems really nice but they weren't sure if she would be into them and therefore never really said anything. That would be really weird. This coming from a guy who builds dioramas in his bedroom and films plastic dinosaur figures he bought at target to make a stop motion movie. I found this great site online for e-cards and one of them has a picture of OJ Simpson on it and the line for it says "I am going to kill you." I think that is hilarious and don't care if it sends me to hell, but I am gonna send it to someone sometime soon. So, watch out friends of mine for you may be the one who soon gets an electronic letter from me with a non serious death threat in it. Oh, won't that be fun!(unexplained exclamation points) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In the future we are gonna wear hats that show movie trailers of our favorite films. I have a fog on my brain form thinking way too much lately. Having twelve thousand thoughts on the brain is like making a paper mache horse, filling it full of candy, and never breaking it open with a bat that you are swinging about blindfolded putting others who are watching you in your futility in serious danger of a concussion or at the very least the loss of sight in one eye.
Twelve days ago I realized my obsession with the number twelve. Hence my use of it over twelve times so far in this blog. Shampoo. I just realized that I made a joke that only few people will know. Two of which(not twelve, HAHAHA! Take that!) will not most likely ever read this blog.
Two guys walk into a bar and order drinks. SOmebody yells at them and they tell the guy to shut the fuck up they are trying to drink for Christ's sake. THe guy who yelled pulls out a knife and stabs one of the guys. The other holds his friend while he bleeds to death on the bar floor. That wasn't a joke in any way. Just a horribly lame and tragic story. It started out as something that most people would think is going to be a joke, but instead I turned it around and made it into something else. Good for me. dAVE, the joke re-mixer. I turn jokes into tragedies. I make you cry when all you wanna do is laugh. Or is that me all the time on the inside where no one can see? Weird. Maybe you should buy some new drapes and just go crazy with the motherfuckers. Don't even put them on your windows. Put one on like a cape and use the other to catch invisible hamsters that are the size of ostriches. At least ell people that is what you are doing when they ask you why the fuck you wandering around with a drape on you like a cape and the other in your hands like you are teasing a raging bull. The Kevin Costner movie, not the animal. That would be cruel. Of course, what is more cruel, forcing an animal to be teased and taunted and shot with small spears or forcing the american public to watch another god damn Kevin Costner movie. Waterworld sucked enough for three generations of movie-goers.
BEHOLD!!!!!!!!!! The tales of TWELVE generations of mighty coffee makers who wore hats made of yarn in a place that used fire to roast beans. Man, were they stupid. This has gone on long enough they would say. How can we make coffee in yarn hats and yet not catch fire like every five fucking seconds. It's always one of us running around going I'm on fire! I'm on fire! Then we gotta stop making coffee and put somebody out again. It's really fucking annoying. That was from the plant managers point of view. That would be a very frustrating job. Being the idiot in charge of the idiots wearing hats made of yarn while using a flame-throwers made of candy canes. Didn't I mention that? Well, fuck shit fuck ass fuck swearing for the sake of sake drinking fish name ted feaslesticks.

Well, fuck, I think I'm done. Long winded enough for you this time?

on the verge of building an empire of thorn-ed demon slaying demon accordions!!!

If blogging were an Escher painting I would make mine have polka dots and sell hot dogs to refugees. I mean that in the most politically correct possible of course. You can't be too careful these days. It is an election year in the lower east equator and I am looking to continue my reign as most supreme awesome maker of cheese sculptures. Do you think in other countries people try to think about what it is like in other countries? Too bad there is no way to find out. What we need as a race is to develop a system of these things called computers(magic newfangled machines that talk in numbers) and connect them to each other of this massive "network" allowing them to share information with each other and thusly giving us access to so much that all we can do with it is watch porn since we have no real idea of how to use it fully. That would be amazing. Imagine what that would be like. I could type something into one of them "computers"(see earlier parentheses) and "post" these here thoughts onto said "network" and people everywhere could read it and worry about me and ask me if I'm okay the next day. What a sweet world that would be. We could call it the internet and Al Gore could tour the world with Gary Gygax claiming he invented and protects the space time continuum. What an amazing world indeed.
I just thought of puppies in Star Trek. You never see them. What the fuck? They are cute and useful to make someone appear innocent until they suddenly turn into a giant space donut laser beast with fangs of obliterarium! Why didn't any bad guy ever think of that? Seriously. That would have been motherfucking sweet to be exact.

*Pauses to check on laundry drying.

*Returning with a new fervor!

Maybe we should invent a pizza that does math and surfs the internet while you eat it. Pus it gives you stock quotes or essential nutrients. But, only one. You gotta pay extra to get both. You can't give away too much. Come to think of it they probably already have that in Japan. I bet if we debuted it here in the USA(Merica! FUCK YEAH!!!) the Japanese would laugh at us and mock us because they already had that in the 80's while we were busy thinking Colecovision was that bomb ass diggity shit. My text editor thinks I have a billion spelling errors right now because of all of my colloquialisms, but I know it is wrong and I am actually spelling those words correctly since they are not actually words and I am making them up as I go along here. Much like the rest of this blog. But, the moral of this story kids is that drugs are bad and no one should force bats to fly at night just to see what happens. That's wrong. Would you want someone to burn your house down and pour fire ants on you to see if the fire fuels some kind of super rage that turns them into an army of super fire army ants? No, no one would and if you do then you have more problems that just catching bats. Stay safe and don't start a nuclear power system unless you want the United States(Merica! FUCK YEAH!!!) Navy in your surrounding seas ready to disable your entire military no matter what the collateral damage may be. Peace.