Tag Archives: bad

I Made a Pun

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…I regret nothing.

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“People like to fall for their own tricks.”

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Friday the 13th

I never really understood Friday the 13th. Is everyone on the planet supposed to have horribly bad luck on this day? Is there some sort of luck-karma built up that is all released on one day so every other day can be pleasant? It’s just a day, and I happen to like fridays, so why does it have to be bad luck all of a sudden? Why can’t it be a day of good luck? Like all of a sudden everyone wins the lottery, or all the lights turn green, or your boss says to take the day off? That’s not really even what I wonder about though; it’s superstitions in general. My theory is that superstitions just prevent us from doing stupid things that are really just common sense in the first place, and “bad luck” is just all of the pins you knock down while bowling down the ‘stupid lane’ with bumpers one. You hear people say “Don’t walk under a ladder, it’s bad luck.” “If a black cat walks across your path, it’s bad luck.” “If you open an umbrella inside, it’s bad luck.” “If you break a mirror…” etc.

Really, this is what I think happens:

Don’t walk under a ladder because that’s stupid. Something could fall on you, or you could knock it over.

If a black cat, probably a stray if it’s out alone, walks across your path then you’re probably in a bad neighborhood, so stay away from ‘black cats.’

If you open an umbrella inside you’ll just look stupid because it never rains inside.

And don’t break mirrors! Why would you break a mirror? It makes a huge mess and it sucks to replace. Furthermore you or someone else could end up stepping on glass. Be careful!

So just use some common sense… or else it’ll be bad luck.

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ZOMG

I think as a culture we’re so fascinated and scared by zombies because besides not having a heartbeat, there’s not much difference between having a crappy 9-5 job and being a zombie. They’re like the embodiment of the worst version of ourselves. A shell of a human. Basically dead already, but still walking around and going through the motions like we need to keep pushing papers and sending emails because the survival of the species depends on whether or not those quarterly reports that no one reads were formatted correctly.

…I am Jack’s sense of humor.

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What’s on your mind?

Every living creature dies alone. That sort of thing.

That’s not always true. I’ve heard sometimes big groups of people, like in cults, come together and have mass suicides, like a big suicide party–oh and don’t forget about natural disasters. Lots of people die together in those.

Thanks. I feel way better now.

Well don’t drag your shit onto me. I’m feeling pretty good right now and I don’t want to deal with your existential crisis. I’ll deal with it when I get depressed on my own accord.

You could have just said that first. You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.

I was starting to feel bad, so I had to knock you down a few pegs, which made me feel better I gotta say.

Haven’t you heard of sharing the load to make it lighter?

Haven’t you heard about turds in punch bowls? I don’t want your shit in my mouth.

But we never talk about this kind of stuff. No one does.

And for a reason. People want to feel good. Yeah, we all know we’re all going to die, but we’d rather just distract ourselves from it than spend time thinking about it and dealing with it. Why do you think people are always on their phones doing dumb shit when they could have a quiet moment to reflect? Why do you think we distract ourselves from thought in general?

Yeah. I guess we’ve kind of gotten soft. No one wants to do the hard mental work to find true satisfaction; they just want to play fucking candy crush and feel happy for beating the next level or watch some fucking cats doing cute cat things.

Well yeah, that’s just the way it is, so deal with it.

I’m trying.

Well you’re sucking at it. Try harder.

But if I just distract myself it won’t actually change anything.

…I’ll give you some advice that my great grandpa gave me before he died, as long as you promise to shut up.

Ok. Sure.

When you feel like you are going to die — don’t die; and you will survive.

He said that?

Well, I’m translating, but that’s the gist.

Bullshit.

Well it’s what he said. Now shut the fuck up and eat some ice cream.

There’s no way he said that.

He was on the forefront of wisdom, what do you want me to say?

How about what he actually said?

But that is what he said.

I object! You expect me to believe this ill-conceived hearsay?

Why not? Everything is hearsay anyways. You wouldn’t even know how old you are if someone didn’t tell you. Everything can be true or false; it just matters if you believe it. You see, there’s a certain point in life when you realize that you’re not the judge. You don’t decide what happens, so you try to be the lawyer for a while, arguing about why it happens and all the time-consuming, convoluted questions that go along with that. But then you realize that you’re a crappy lawyer and are only confusing yourself, so you take another step back. Your real job is to be the jury, and decide what you want to believe. Because believing is the only choice we have, and the only decision worth giving a damn about. So don’t tell me you’re going to die, and don’t ask me why it will happen; just tell me what you’re going to do about it.

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Goodbye

Two people lived on a small man-made island just off the shore of the mainland. These two residents were not the only people on this island, but they lived alone. The residents were both on a schedule, both lived through their days as a series of habits, and were both looking for love (trust me. I’m an omniscient narrator). They both worked hard and found comfort in a solid routine as the foundation for a ‘good life,’ and thus were both bound by their schedules — “imprisoned” might be a better word.

A unique feature of this island is that it was a perfect circle with a sidewalk that hugged the perimeter. There were twelve equally spaced streets radiating from a where a big clock tower stood in the heart of the town. You could keep track of the time from almost anywhere on the island, as our two residents would frequently do.

You see, even time is man-made. Not the concept of time, but how we choose to restrict ourselves with it. Seconds. Hours. Years — don’t tell me nothing lasts forever. I don’t want to hear it.

Every morning these two residents would wake up at the same time, step onto the same sidewalk, turn right, and walk clockwise until they came back to where they started. Their schedules wove together like two gears — however, they lived on opposite sides of the island and always walked clockwise at the same time. What these two residents didn’t realize, and would never come to realize, is that this ordinary, scheduled walk was so precise, so routine, and so expected, that the absence of anticipation surrounding it drew about as much attention to the walk as you will give to your next breath, which is extraordinary. Extraordinarily dull.

It is still unclear to me, the omniscient narrator, whether the two residents scheduled to walk each morning, or whether they walked because the schedule told them to. Of course, the residents think to be in complete control, and that is why they stick to the schedule — the sense of order and control — but from the outside looking in, it seems as if control was simply an illusion created by the predictability of a clock.

When you do something so much, you don’t even know what you’re missing anymore; you just assume it’s not there.

Our two residents would wake up every day, go on their clockwise walk, and eventually fall asleep in the same bed they woke up in, and repeated this controlled, scheduled, living habit for so many days that the memories of the past years of this routine congealed into one solitary memory. One day, one of the residents noticed they looked older, felt older, and consequently tried to recall how that happened, but could only come to the conclusion that “time flies.” It was at this time, I, the omniscient narrator, decided this resident decided to go for a walk that morning. The same walk as always, but upon this day this resident choose to walk counterclockwise as a gesture of change, as a way to motivate this resident to start breaking the very routine that this resident had resided in for so long.

It was free. It was clear. It was new. Surely memories would be made on this day as the two residents approached each other around the bend of the man-made island. They were destined to meet. As their paths crossed, they greeted each other with a congenial smile accompanied by a neighborly “hello,” and kept on walking down the path without breaking stride, or their respective schedules. A whole history of new possibilities came into existence on that unclockwise walk, and then disappeared as simply as the path on which they walked curved out of sight around the island, and disappeared without the memory of even saying ‘goodbye.’

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What can I start you off with?

I’ll have the wings

Excellent choice

And I’ll have the onion rings

Excellent choice as well, you’ll enjoy them.

And I’ll have the quesadilla

…interesting.

What?

Nothing.

Should I choose something else?

No, it’s just an interesting choice; that’s all.

What’s interesting? Is that bad?

No, not necessarily. Just… interesting.

Should I be concerned?

No.

Would it be better if I got onion rings?

I mean, it depends on you. If you want a quesadilla, I would recommend you get the quesadilla; but the onion rings would be an excellent choice.

…fine. I’ll get the onion rings.

Are you sure?

…not really, but I have to choose something.

Well, you don’t HAVE to choose anything.

But I’m hungry.

So what do you want to eat?

I said I’ll have the onion rings—no wait, I still want the quesadilla.

Okay.

…Okay?

Yeah. Okay.

So it’s okay with you all of a sudden?

Sure.

Good.

Good. I’ll bring those right out.

Fine.

Fine.

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