Never under any circumstances should you watch home videos shot by your friends when you were 21 or so. You will spend the next few weeks obsessing about what an abrasive, obnoxious douchebag you were. Your self esteem is poor enough. Reminding yourself that you were even more awful in the past doesn’t help.
Hugs!
- You.
When I have died and gone to hell, and the slavering demons have begun ramming their humongous, barbed members into my every bleeding orifice, and squirting their corrosive fluids into my torn-out eye sockets for all eternity, I will still be sincerely grateful that I never again have to debate the merits of evolution with a supporter of Intelligent Design.
Of course, if there were a hell, it would probably involve dull-witted mouth-breathers yammering on about transition fossils and irreducible complexity as they strangle me with my own steaming intestines.
Dear Little Bald Bastard,
Why do we celebrate Easter with chocolate eggs and bunnies but NOT with chocolate depictions of the Lord? Wouldn’t Chocolate Mini-Christs make more sense? Can you get in touch with the fine folks at Reese’s and get this going?
Chocolate Christ be with you,
- Jenn
Dear Jenn,
Back when it was trying hard to supplant the ancient, tree-humping pagan faiths, the church co-opted the festivals and symbols that the potential converts were comfortable with and repurposed them into its new, monotheistic mythology. This is why a type of tree Jesus could never have seen has become a symbol of his birth, and why we pretend that Middle Eastern shepherds would have been hanging out on a hillside in late December.
To paraphrase Eddie Izzard, the bunnies are for shagging, and the eggs are for fertility. They’re holdovers from ancient rituals that celebrated the coming Spring, and tried to influence the Universe to grant the tribe a successful planting, and a fruitful subsequent harvest. Dozens of generations later, chocolate eggs and bunnies have the inertia of tradition working in their favor. Coloring eggs and biting off long chocolate ears have become as natural to the faithful as ignoring homeless people on the street.
Chocolate religious depictions do exist, but it’s doubtful that they’ll ever eclipse the old Easter symbols. And really, what reason is there to change now? It’s not like there’s a huge underground contingent of disgruntled nature worshipers out there, grimly strapping on explosive belts and vowing to get their bunnies back. Plus, eating something with a human face is a little odd. Especially if it’s a lifesize, anatomically correct human. I mean, where does one start?
I’m sure that, in a less taboo-laden future, psychologists will be able to discern interesting things about where one chooses to begin eating a chocolate human sculpture. Until then, I’m going to register my discomfort with eating a chocolate scrotum, and leave it at that.
[x-posted from Ask The Little Bald Bastard]
This afternoon, I urinated approximately three feet from Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. Before you ask, we were in a men’s room, and he was also urinating. Sadly, I did not take advantage of the opportunity to look at his wang. I am not making this up.
A Young Lady’s Primer
1. Receive Friend Request from stranger on fucking MySpace.
2. View suspiciously professional looking headshot.
3. Suspect spambot.
4. Attempt to discern if requester is a real person; open requester’s profile.
5. Forget that speakers are powered on.
6. Claw frantically at head as horrible, grating pop song, obnoxious, eye-watering layout and promises of “more naughtier pics at my site” cause brainmeats to sublimate and stream from head holes.
7. Wait for seizures to abate.
8. Decline Friend Request.
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