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You know why I still hate vegetarians and vegans? They eat plants. Stop eating plants. Just because the slime that everything evolved from took two different paths and we ended up with a nervous system doesn't mean you have the right to kill the stuff that wasn't lucky enough to develop the sensation of pain. You're taking advantage of them. That's like making fun of a kid who was born without an arm. It's not his fault that he doesn't have an arm. I can't believe that you would make fun of a one-armed kid. Actually, I can believe it. What else should I expect from you chlorophyll-hungry bastards?
I bet since you vegetarians/vegans always judge people for eating meat and call us seal-slaughterers (etc.) that you're also the people who shove God's word down everyone's throats. Well how about this? Here's a little section of the Bible I like to call Sega Genesis:
Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the LORD.
And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering:
But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect.
Hey, looks like God loves the meats more than the beets. But wait; there's more:
Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.
And the LORD said unto Cain, "Where is Abel thy brother?" And he said, "I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?"
You slaughterous vegetarian! You couldn't keep your hoe in the shed, could you? You had to take it out on your brother. This not only proves that vegetarians are wrathful, but snappy as well. What kind of smartass says "Am I my brother's keeper?" to God? Hey, junior high called; they want their pimple-faced Rhetoric Team captain back. Hey, Socrates called too. He wants his method back.
So next time you go to chop down that pumpkin tree just because your tummy is growling, think about this: Does it really make you feel better that your victim can't vocalize their will for life? And also, think about this: Stop eating my pumpkins.
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Christopher Walken is an amazing guy. He was great in The Deer Hunter
, and every movie he's ever been in. But even more spectacular than all of his theatrical accomplishments combined is his essay on hot dogs. It cracks me up everytime I read it, so I thought to share with all of you several readers.
Christopher Walken Writes:
Do you enjoy eating hot dogs? I hope you won't be put off by my frankness when I tell you that I absolutely love them. In fact, I enjoy no food item more than a freshly-boiled hot dog.
Now, I've done a lot of movies, and it's true that I've worked with quite a few celebrities who did not share this opinion. I'm sorry to say that these people have always angered me. There are two types of people in this world: those who eat hot dogs whenever it is possible to do so, and those who opt to do other things with their free time.
Who do the latter think they are kidding? What pastime could be more rewarding than the consumption of hot dogs? I haven't yet found one, and I don't expect to in my lifetime.
Unlike other foods, hot dogs can be eaten at any time, in any place, and it is not necessary to cook them. Now, I ask you: Why not eat hot dogs? They are delicious. I carry a bag of hot dogs with me wherever I go. I eat them from the bag whenever I get the urge, regardless of the circumstances. When I make a movie, my hot dogs are my co-stars. If, in the middle of a scene, I decide I want to consume a hot dog, I do so. I waste the director's time and thousands of dollars in film stock, but in the end, it is all worth it, because I enjoy eating hot dogs more than I enjoy acting.
This bothers some people. I was supposed to portray Batman, but when Tim Burton learned of my hot dog cravings, he asked Michael Keaton to wear the cape. To this day, I am peeved about this.
When we filmed The Dead Zone
, I ate over 800 hot dogs a day. It was necessary. My character needed to come across as intense as possible, and I found the inspiration for that intensity in my intense love for hot dogs. The director, David Cronenberg, said that he would never work with me again. I kept eating hot dogs when the cameras were rolling, and that seemed to bother him. I say fuck him. He doesn't even like hot dogs.
I would like to end by emphasizing once again that I really like to eat hot dogs. If any of you people disagree, I loathe you. I despise you. Not only that, but I also despise all your loved ones. I want to see them torn to pieces by wild dogs. If I ever meet you in person, I'll smash your brains in with a fucking bat. Then we'll see who doesn't like hot dogs.
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There are some moments in life when a normally irrelevent action can appear to be the only definitive answer. This morning contained one such moment. The echoes of raindrops and their dull pattering on my lawn, shrubbery, and patio, as well as the road further out, sent the chill of the cool air through me and made me a slave of the constant rustling.
And so it was evident. The only logical course of action became to wander out and become part of this orchestration. I liken to the lazy version of the rain as interpreted by the branches of the old maple that loomed over me. The light, random thuds fell upon my body from the leaves ever unstill in their battery from the clouds' creation.
It calms me to soak up the rain. I am grass, tree, flower. I am soil. I take, but I give. Like the wind that topples the veined, verdant saucers full of water, I shook me and so fell the drops from my clothes. I am river. Like the valley that carries and contorts the stream as nature drips and splashes on the surface, I took some rain with me, but will dry off.
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With the ever-increasing prices of cigarettes becoming a painful thorn in the side of addiction-prone morons nationwide, many have turned to alternative products to quench their undying impulse to cram their orifices with pseudo-edible objects. A new trend has been gradually gaining speed, much to the chagrin of model citizens such as myself. Seemingly harmless with complacent marketing schemes, the widespread sale of this malicious product has sparked utter pandemonium and general stickiness.
Gum is becoming the new terrible addiction in modern society. Nary a day shall pass where the words "Does anyone have some gum," "Can I have a piece of that gum too," "Give me some gum, asshole," or "Sweet Jesus, I need some fucking gum right now" aren't spoken. In fact, I hear people begging for these chewy treats many times during the day: people from all backgrounds and genders. It's quite frightening, and I can't understand all of the commotion over a small, pale, rubbery substance whose unimaginative original flavor is replaced within moments by a disgusting, stale, plastic taste.
Despite the rank foulness of the product, people have become utterly dependent on gum. One anonymous interviewee, who I will refer to here as "Wrigley" to protect her identity, recounts her tragic addiction to gum: "I was just a casual chewer before I got into Orbit [gum]. Now I'm up to a pack a day." Wrigley's excessive gum chewing is also taking the toll on her relationship with friends and family. As Wrigley's sister explains, "It's getting to the point where her addiction is becoming embarrassing. She can just talk to people, and by the scent on her breath they think to themselves, 'That girl chews'." It certainly reflects negatively upon those close to her.
Where does gum originate? Well, back in the good old times, Neanderthals found solace in chewing on chunks of pure tar. I can admit that gum has come a long way in terms of flavor since then. It's not like I've tasted tar, though. But excuse me for digressing. The point is, Neanderthals started the trend of chewing. Is that who you want your kids looking up to, parents? Neanderthals? If that's the case, then society is surely going to collapse, and we're all going to de-evolve within decades. So much for 4.4 million years of progress. You might as well sell off your Gucci apparel for stockpiles of loincloths right now. Don't worry about property values, either. Be prepared to sell off your homes for a couple sticks, ten shells, and half of a bird's nest, and get your belongings ready to drag into your new home: a cave. Do you really want to live in a cave? Yeah? You want to be eaten by a bear? Keep chewing gum.
People like Wrigley are also obviously those responsible for sticking gum under chairs and desks, and to the floors of movie theaters. Gum-chewers are foul vermin, leaving their waste in every possible place. It's entirely gross and self-serving. It is this mentality that is chewing away at the key structural points of our society. If there is no immediate intervention, we may see our modern culture collapse to its shaky and bruised knees, much attuned to the legend of Ye Olde Castle of Fermented Grits. "If I had no access to gum," Wrigley postulates, "I would most-likely literally combust." Great, look what you've done now, gum. All I needed was a smoldering corpse stinking up my afternoon.
But then, there is the possibility that this reporter may feel left out of the gum craze. Maybe all this reporter needs is a delicious piece of gum from a caring friend. So next time you toss your gum on the table, maybe take the extra step and say "Hey, Ed, want some gum?" That's all it may take to make the world a happier place.
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The Most Painful Entry Ever