We are evolved monkeys. We lost some of our hair; we developed an intricate language with which to misunderstand each other. But that’s all we are. We toil for seventy years so that we can spend a few years resting before we die, slowly pickling in our own juices and become more and more alienated from mainstream life.
There is no soul waiting room where we hang around before popping into a body.
And when exactly does the so-called soul enter the body anyway? Is it at the moment of birth, the moment of conception or somewhere in-between? Does it have to happen within a womb? What if we are conceived in a Styrofoam cup? What happens if the sperm is delivered via a spout other than the penis itself? What happens if the parents are of opposing faiths, which god gets to deposit the soul? Is the soul power with that little burrowing tadpole, the most blindly optimistic thing in our cold universe, or the turgid egg – waiting for the fastest, most aggressive sperm to wriggle and burrow through its membranes?
We don’t get told a bunch of things before we step through a door, suddenly forget everything and start pissing and shitting all over the place as our souls suddenly become babies. We have to figure it out as we go along. And it’s much like your father – fucking horrible.
But I’ve learnt some things along the way, and I would like to share them with you.
One: If you don’t ask, you won’t get.
There’s a reason the Bible says the meek shall inherit the earth. It’s so that the people at the top can ride you around like a little fleshy pink horse. If you need something, you gotta ask for it Mr Quiet. So the next time you’re on a date with a girl lean over and ask her: Can I put my sperm-depositor in your lovechute?
See what happens. You will be surprised.
Two: It’s hard work being a pervert
Sometimes you aren’t allowed to look at butts. Sometimes you have to try really hard not to. Sometimes the butts are not yours to look at
Three: Smile and the world smiles with you, shit your pants and you shit your pants alone
Don’t shit on your own doorstep before you get off the pot. The early bird gets out of the kitchen.
Four: Bacon is not that funny
It’s a breakfast meat. It’s elevation to some kind of magical thing is just dumb. Take the joke out the back and kill it with a brick. Don’t even bother burying it, just leave it out for the twin crows of zombies and ninjas to pick at the carcass. Then blow the whole garden up. Those jokes suck.
Five: The funniest things are those which aren’t funny
Slipping on a banana peel – not funny. Slipping on a banana peel and dying – much funnier. Slipping on a banana peel and setting in motion a series of events which lead you to travel back in time and kill your own grandparents – even better.
Take a look at these jokes.
Euripides jeans, you menda deez jeans.
Hello please I’m being eaten alive by a dickwolf.
I’m sure we can see which joke is funnier.
[Pic courtesy of Mike Burns]