I Have No Chicken, and I Must Scream

“Fr...freed'm,” he wheezed through flour-crusted, dry lips. The single word a herculean effort, contracting his diaphragm to expel enough air sent arrows of pain through his chest. Moments passed as he gathered his strength to continue, he MUST continue, he knew. A man of considerable size, he found it difficult to stand from his plastic bench throne. Shuffling slowly across the dimly lit expanse on red, swollen legs the man gazed at the beauty around him. He couldn't remember anything else besides this place. When did he get here? Had it always been like this? Such questions were irrelevant, all that remained was the fight, the War. He knew his parents had been brave warriors too, and their parents before them, generations of his kin battled the Enemy and paid with their glucose tolerance. In the end it was for the sake of all. Even if it meant the damnation of his body, at least his soul-and the souls of all mankind- could be saved by his rheumatic, sweaty hands.

Arriving at the dispensing unit, he steadied himself and squinted at the list. What could he take in this state? He knew he was nearing his time. He was 25 after all-or so he thought, time passed strangely here. Finally it came to him and as he mumbled and slurred-why did his lips feel so tingly- the words required for his task, he could already smell the Victory as it was prepared for him. In less than a hyper-tensioned heartbeat it was ready for his glorious moment. A hush fell upon the place as all eyes took aim to the would-be savior. The silence screamed at him to win. His heart pounded, more than usual, as he unwrapped It. Glorious, it was, gleamingly greasy and breathtaking to behold. Touching it to his lips he felt ecstasy flow through him as those in their seats murmured in approval. His heart beat harder...harder...too hard! It was wrong, so wrong, and he knew it in an instant. The two empty halves of biscuit fell to the tiled floor, wails of agony echoed through the room, and the man's heart rebelled.

Am I unworthy?! What have I done wrong?! He was dying and he knew it, he must escape. No matter what had just happened he could not defile this...temple. Pain shot through his arm as he spun, panicked, looking desperately for the exit. Chaos was erupting behind him, wails of agony and despair. Some shouted it was a sign, others a curse. The man didn't care, his instinct howled at him to survive. As he burst through the long sealed doors, he faltered. Even in his mortal panic, the light was blinding and terrifying. On his knees now, crying, he felt his life slipping away. He gazed up at the strange blue sky above him. Was this here all along? Silent tears trickled down his pock-marked cheeks.

Suddenly he could feel someone there, someone speaking to him, it felt, from so far away. It's too late, I've failed, he thought, slipping further away. Nothing to do now but...pain! There was pain, incredible pain, worse than before. It was waking him up. A rhythmic pressing on his chest that hurt more than anything he'd ever felt. Seemingly an eternity passed before he opened his eyes again to see a man hovering above him pressing on his chest. The dying man was confused, what was going on? In that moment, the other man's mouth tightly close over his own! No! NO! THIS IS THE ENEMY, ISN'T IT?!

Spitting and sputtering with all his strength, the dying man pushed his savior away and wiped his defiled lips with a sweaty forearm. He glared at the man above him,

“Fag...” he coughed, and then the darkness took him once more.

Poem: What Price, Flavor?

It hung on my lips like an ancient waterfall, frozen in eternal winter

But even still in that chilling cold my soul, so brave and warm,

Felt nature's cleaving edge and set to splinter

Pressed in flesh in imitation of the wild and unimagined

Trapped between two halves of whole and others there besides

Never known to this world's love, and so growing quite misshapen.

Saucy truth, not quite content to travel on the path of history

Strikes awe in eyes of followers and devotees

And quietly though I trace my way, remembering such humbleness

Never rich, ensconced in power or being contemptuously glib

So I did make my way across that portal to the priests and artisans

And ordered “One McRib”

I love Rock and Roll

Wow, allergies have completely killed me all week.  My eyes are so red and itchy and sore I can barely see straight.  So, in lieu of writing a post I wrote a blues song about My Little Pony.  It's only a first version really, but it's probably as close to as finished as I can get with my set up.  I didn't do the music, just the lyrics which I'm also singing (poorly).

Hope you enjoy it.  Lyrics below

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A Sad, Maddening Confession (New Project Pt 1)

My friends, my colleagues...my fellow human beings.  This...this terrible evening I have participated in a crime.  Not a simple crime against the laws of pitiable, mortal, men-whose company I thought I no longer needed, for I possessed the ambition to exceed this weak and fallible form...no.  No, my friends, I perpetrated a crime against Nature herself.

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Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace

First and most importantly, listen to this

Now that we're on the same page emotionally...I'm scared.  Scared of all of this crap.  I've got a bunch of varied ideas for projects to create, as I mentioned, but I worry about them coming back to haunt me.  In the age of the Internet what gets posted lasts forever pretty much.  Most people feel a sense of liberation from the sense of pseudo-anonymity on Ye Oldde Tubes, but it's a false sense of security.  If someone wants to find out who you are and find out where you live and any of your personal info, well it's not going to be hard if they have the skills. 

It really worries me, I want to be able to speak my mind or be adventurous with comedy and maybe push the limits here and there.  I've been on stage doing improv before and have slipped into the "just act/speak" mode where there is almost no filter holding me back and have thankfully managed to not get myself in trouble.  I'm a big fan of blasphemy.  I think that sacred cows are meant to be slaughtered-on occasion.  Some of my personal heroes are people like Richard Dawkins, Matt and Trey from South Park, magicians Penn & Teller, PZ Meyers, and George Carlin.  All people who aren't afraid to say things that bring some color to the face.  I like to think of myself as a scientist, in the same way I think of myself as a philosopher.  Everyone on Earth is both those things to some extent, just how much they decide to examine the physical and metaphysical nature of the Universe varies. 

Of course freedom isn't free

...but I don't want to be the next Salman Rushdie or Giordanno Bruno.  Then again I doubt any of the (if I'm lucky) 20 or so people who visit this site a week care enough to come after me for my dumb jokes and poorly thought out essays.  However, my identity is forever linked to these words and they could come back to haunt me.  I don't think I'd ever run for public office so I'm not worried about that but any kind of comment that in the future might not be so polite could be a potential disaster for me.  Or what if my efforts pay off in the future and my "media empire" starts to get popular, more people start reading and BAM! I become the target of some internet vigilante campaign? 

Derp, you dun goofed.

Now, I freely admit that I often go to a worst case scenario.  In fact, if I were to name my strongest skill I would say it's the ability to instantly find flaws in any idea, plan, experimental design, or person- especially if said flaw/catastrophe is beyond the laws of probability in our ordered, natural universe.  Give me a topic and a few minutes and I'll give you a horrific and complicated breakdown of how it will explode and destroy all life on Earth.

But of course, all life is risky.  You could die any time and you need to not live in fear or you'll never really live at all.  Trying to stay true to that every day is pretty damn hard but I'm trying. 

In the end, all that matters is knowing this:

Inspiration

I don't know why but Arnie is always good for inspiration. I love his movies, I love his cliched acting style, and I love his figure (no homo bro).



Best 10 min you'll spend today, also check out the sequel.