That Shit Isn't Not Funny.
Some folks get their feathers ruffled if you make fun of the dead. They're all on some, "Ooooh, how could you dishonor our forefathers? You know that if you make our ancestors angry the sun will throw a flaming bucket of children’s blood down on Earth and take all the heat over to Neptune while we freeze to death and turn to cannibals from the madness of certain extinction. We better decapitate a virgin before Ramadan. And don’t you care that grandma can hear you every time you swear? She watches you jack off and screams in pain, you know? That’s why you’re going to hell."
Guess what? Dead people can’t hear. Or taste. Or shake their heads in disappointment at the mistake of a life you’ve chosen. They’re dead. Anna Nicole Smith is not sitting on James Brown’s lap in The Copa while Frank Sinatra drinks holy milk from the breast of a nude porcelain angel of purity all the while singing Just The Way You Look Tonight.
Nope. Not Happening.
They’re all dead. All of them have turned into soil. Except Anna Nicole, she’s still in that Dawn of the Dead half rotten state. But soon enough, she too will be spread over a cornfield in central Iowa as nothing more than fertilizer for the grain that will nourish young Bobby and Jane as they grow from teeny suckling cherubs all the way to strapping adulthood. As they excel in all of their courses, win the big game, and crystallize into millionaires with embarrassing sexual dysfunctions and designer drug addictions they will think back fondly on the treasure that was childhood and bask in the lingering taste of corn.
And to me, that is beautiful. The Earth is a self-balancing organism. The universe is harmonious. The winds of time course through all of humanity and we are as one with infinity. All of this goes on without the use of magic or the thumbs-up from God. We, as humans should find peace in the never-ending cycle of existence. We can laugh at the dead because they played a wonderful part in this exhilarating performance and have given them selves over forever so as to be fodder for jokes amongst friends who secretly despise one another.
It’s ok. The dead want you to laugh at them. They told me so.
On the other hand, there is some foul shit in which I find no traces of humor. By this foul shit I will not abide. You may get worked up over dead people jokes, but to me, nothing is more profane than dying people jokes. I’m talking about someone who knows that death could always come with the next breath. I’m talking about someone who has no hopes for the future because the future is measured only in minutes. Larry King for example.
Last night I was watching The David Letterman Show (FUCK JAY LENO. BIG HEAD ASS NO FUNNY ASS SHOULD FIGHT ROBIN WILLIAMS TO THE DEATH ASS SHIT PILE.) He made a joke that I have since forgotten; about how Larry King was really old and was gonna die. What? Where hides the humor in this angle?
Personal suffering? That can be funny. The suffering of an enemy? Downright hilarious. But the suffering of someone who has never harmed you or any one you know in any way? That is just cruel. As far as I know, Larry King hasn’t intentionally caused anyone important to be worse off than they were before they met him. He’s no Roman Polanski. Why would you want to laugh at his impending death? Get some class.
I know a lot of people pretend that they’re not scared to die. They try to convince other folks that death is welcome and that they’ll only be going up to rest in the glorious kingdom of heaven. Check it out. There is no Heaven. You will never get to hang out with your dead dog in a green meadow in the clouds. You will never sit on a cloud. Give it up. Clouds are just vapor, they’re not pillows for you to ride while children laugh.
I don’t pretend.
I’m scared shitless of death. The idea that I’ll never do anything, at all, ever, ever again is the worst thing I can think of. People don’t grasp how long “forever” is. Think about it. Remember that one time you stayed up for three nights straight studying for a test on life in ancient Greece? Remember how you walked around all the time trying to impress people, like, “I’ve been up for 61 hours and counting. Not you. You slept. You’re weak and I’m living on the edge. I’m pushing the limits and you’re just stealing breath that I could be breathing while being awesome and next-level”? Remember how you thought three nights was a long time? Well, if Three Nights walked up to Forever and was like, “Can we hang out?” Forever would pull out a crossbow, shoot Three Nights in the forehead and proceed to scalp him and make a sculpture of his entrails. Forever runs shit and everything else is just trying to stay out of the way so it doesn’t end up as a carpet in Forever’s mansion in Connecticut.
No Clouds. No puppies.
When I think of death it’s just a long black tunnel into a bottomless pit in the bowels of absolute nothing. There will be no rescue. You’re in the pit, bitch. It’s blacker than a trillion midnights. It’s blacker than a POW prison hole. It’s blacker than the basement you used to hide in while your parents fought over which one of them was going to have to keep you after the divorce. It’s terrifying.
Now, imagine being old. You can’t get erections. Your back is hunched. You can’t carry your own groceries. You shit yourself in your seat at the Kimmel Center while the millionaire right next to you sneers, glares, and finally spits on your wife. And the only reason you are there in the first place is because you got the tickets from your friend- who’s actually just your boss who didn’t need the tickets because he was going to Vegas to have sex with hookers on the set of Cirque Du Soleil and felt sorry for you because your life is empty of enjoyment and you could never retire because you squandered all of your money on botched investments and get rich quick schemes.
What a miserable and painful existence. You’ll be there some day. Wandering around in a stupor, falling down at the movies, shitting yourself in public, crying constantly as you peer into the abyss. These will be the worst days of your life. What the fuck is funny about that?
Some folks get their feathers ruffled if you make fun of the dead. They're all on some, "Ooooh, how could you dishonor our forefathers? You know that if you make our ancestors angry the sun will throw a flaming bucket of children’s blood down on Earth and take all the heat over to Neptune while we freeze to death and turn to cannibals from the madness of certain extinction. We better decapitate a virgin before Ramadan. And don’t you care that grandma can hear you every time you swear? She watches you jack off and screams in pain, you know? That’s why you’re going to hell."
Guess what? Dead people can’t hear. Or taste. Or shake their heads in disappointment at the mistake of a life you’ve chosen. They’re dead. Anna Nicole Smith is not sitting on James Brown’s lap in The Copa while Frank Sinatra drinks holy milk from the breast of a nude porcelain angel of purity all the while singing Just The Way You Look Tonight.
Nope. Not Happening.
They’re all dead. All of them have turned into soil. Except Anna Nicole, she’s still in that Dawn of the Dead half rotten state. But soon enough, she too will be spread over a cornfield in central Iowa as nothing more than fertilizer for the grain that will nourish young Bobby and Jane as they grow from teeny suckling cherubs all the way to strapping adulthood. As they excel in all of their courses, win the big game, and crystallize into millionaires with embarrassing sexual dysfunctions and designer drug addictions they will think back fondly on the treasure that was childhood and bask in the lingering taste of corn.
And to me, that is beautiful. The Earth is a self-balancing organism. The universe is harmonious. The winds of time course through all of humanity and we are as one with infinity. All of this goes on without the use of magic or the thumbs-up from God. We, as humans should find peace in the never-ending cycle of existence. We can laugh at the dead because they played a wonderful part in this exhilarating performance and have given them selves over forever so as to be fodder for jokes amongst friends who secretly despise one another.
It’s ok. The dead want you to laugh at them. They told me so.
On the other hand, there is some foul shit in which I find no traces of humor. By this foul shit I will not abide. You may get worked up over dead people jokes, but to me, nothing is more profane than dying people jokes. I’m talking about someone who knows that death could always come with the next breath. I’m talking about someone who has no hopes for the future because the future is measured only in minutes. Larry King for example.
Last night I was watching The David Letterman Show (FUCK JAY LENO. BIG HEAD ASS NO FUNNY ASS SHOULD FIGHT ROBIN WILLIAMS TO THE DEATH ASS SHIT PILE.) He made a joke that I have since forgotten; about how Larry King was really old and was gonna die. What? Where hides the humor in this angle?
Personal suffering? That can be funny. The suffering of an enemy? Downright hilarious. But the suffering of someone who has never harmed you or any one you know in any way? That is just cruel. As far as I know, Larry King hasn’t intentionally caused anyone important to be worse off than they were before they met him. He’s no Roman Polanski. Why would you want to laugh at his impending death? Get some class.
I know a lot of people pretend that they’re not scared to die. They try to convince other folks that death is welcome and that they’ll only be going up to rest in the glorious kingdom of heaven. Check it out. There is no Heaven. You will never get to hang out with your dead dog in a green meadow in the clouds. You will never sit on a cloud. Give it up. Clouds are just vapor, they’re not pillows for you to ride while children laugh.
I don’t pretend.
I’m scared shitless of death. The idea that I’ll never do anything, at all, ever, ever again is the worst thing I can think of. People don’t grasp how long “forever” is. Think about it. Remember that one time you stayed up for three nights straight studying for a test on life in ancient Greece? Remember how you walked around all the time trying to impress people, like, “I’ve been up for 61 hours and counting. Not you. You slept. You’re weak and I’m living on the edge. I’m pushing the limits and you’re just stealing breath that I could be breathing while being awesome and next-level”? Remember how you thought three nights was a long time? Well, if Three Nights walked up to Forever and was like, “Can we hang out?” Forever would pull out a crossbow, shoot Three Nights in the forehead and proceed to scalp him and make a sculpture of his entrails. Forever runs shit and everything else is just trying to stay out of the way so it doesn’t end up as a carpet in Forever’s mansion in Connecticut.
No Clouds. No puppies.
When I think of death it’s just a long black tunnel into a bottomless pit in the bowels of absolute nothing. There will be no rescue. You’re in the pit, bitch. It’s blacker than a trillion midnights. It’s blacker than a POW prison hole. It’s blacker than the basement you used to hide in while your parents fought over which one of them was going to have to keep you after the divorce. It’s terrifying.
Now, imagine being old. You can’t get erections. Your back is hunched. You can’t carry your own groceries. You shit yourself in your seat at the Kimmel Center while the millionaire right next to you sneers, glares, and finally spits on your wife. And the only reason you are there in the first place is because you got the tickets from your friend- who’s actually just your boss who didn’t need the tickets because he was going to Vegas to have sex with hookers on the set of Cirque Du Soleil and felt sorry for you because your life is empty of enjoyment and you could never retire because you squandered all of your money on botched investments and get rich quick schemes.
What a miserable and painful existence. You’ll be there some day. Wandering around in a stupor, falling down at the movies, shitting yourself in public, crying constantly as you peer into the abyss. These will be the worst days of your life. What the fuck is funny about that?
5 Comments:
by far the best shit I have read all week.
blacker than a trillion midnights! golden!
amazing! that bit about a millionaire spitting on your wife is cosmic comic perfection.
don't fear the void, embrace it(with your tongue). she likes that.
classic.
i'm a sucker for some violence, forever vs. three nights equals crossbows and calder entrail mobiles. scalp em'!
This was some serious reading. I almost wanted to send it to 19 year old son that believes totally what you just wrote, the blackest day he says.because of the day his life was changed. ,he actually couldnt save his very young grandma from drowning, i sugar coated it and he says mom i watched my memes life leave her in 5 mins.he tells this same things .i cant believe i just read this .well im shocked and my heart hurts for him and i feel something for your writting it madem e stop in my tracks.i hope u are both wrong. but i know inside you are both right/.he says people are horrible in this world and dont care if one lives or dies.only what materials they own.no one cared that day.Every one kept boating on their sail boats and and boats singing and dancing. and he watched a life leave this world to a dark place, he says.
good luck in your writting.
ks/cc to my 19 son neil
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