Live Wrong and Prosper

Easy Lover in the latest issue of Storychord

Mon, 23 May 2011 10:43:58 -0400

The awesome Storychord (which “features one story, one image, and a one-song “soundtrack” — each by underexposed talent” each issue) featured Easy Lover’s “End of the Season” in their latest! Please check it out here!

Easy Lover - End of the Season Friday’s song. Ease(y) into...

Fri, 13 May 2011 14:09:00 -0400

Easy Lover - End of the Season

Friday’s song. Ease(y) into the weekend!

Would you floss your teeth – every day for a year – with floss that had already been used to floss someone else’s teeth?

Tue, 26 Oct 2010 11:20:52 -0400

Flossing is really disgusting. I mean, I’m an advocate of it in the same way that I’m an advocate of other necessary gross stuff – like squeezing out your oily pores and cleaning out your waxy ears – but it’s seriously one of those things that reminds you how gross human bodies are. Have you ever looked real close at a piece of floss after it’s been in your little food-particle-filled mouth? Don’t. And whatever you do, don’t smell it. You’ll never be the same.

That said, can you imagine reusing a piece of floss that has already spent some quality time in some stranger’s mouth, picking up bits and pieces of the crap they’ve been stuffing in there, getting stuck between their molars? I imagine they’ve probably been eating wet cheese and spoiled tuna fish and hot dogs and runny eggs and mushy bananas and other stuff that gets in all the yuck mouth cracks and crevices and just festers – rots, I mean to say – in there. Oh, the thought is just horrible. And what if it’s someone with poor oral hygiene, whose gums bleed at the mention of the word “floss”? UGH. Reusing that floss would be like going to the city dump and eating all the mealy fruit and syringes you could find, as far as I’m concerned. As in, horrible. And as in, NOT worth a million dollars.

So, there you go. Used floss can take a walk.

In case it's not obvious...

Mon, 15 Mar 2010 11:35:55 -0400

although I am sure it is very obvious, Live Wrong and Prosper is in its final stages. There’s a post or three waiting to go up, but then, the LWAP death knell will begin (whenever a blog dies, a self-published book is born…). However (however!), I’ve begun a new tumblr here. I am not saying you should follow. I am just sayin’. In general.

Best,

Kali

Would you agree to live out your life as an EXTREMELY ugly person? (Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, so whatever your idea of extremely ugly is.)

Tue, 23 Feb 2010 12:14:23 -0500

I wish I could pretend I needed to stop and think about this for even a second — hesitation would give me depth; Kurt a soul; Ram a brain. But get real. I say maybe one in 20 people would say yes to this and half of them are lying. Adults may demur when asked, but a concussed 4-year-old could tell you the truth: being ugly stinks. And being “extremely” ugly stinks shit. People can be cruel and hostile, and they are apt to penalize you for being ugly at work, and what the ugly are selling, they aren’t buying, and while you may have a face only a mother *can* love, she very well *may* not. It’s enough to drive the ugly to crime and — no surprise — it sometimes does! That is, as they say, a lot to deal with. If we were talking many more zeroes, I might consider it, but that sort of abuse hardly seems worth just a million. So no, and no again, to ugly.

P.S. Live Wrong and Prosper will be winding down in the next month or so because of the book coming out and all. We’ve had a good run and I really have to thank all the many awesome Tumblr friends we’ve made. You guys are the shit. I’ll have a link to a new blog in the coming weeks, and I hope you’ll follow me there. Thanks so much, all of you.

Part I: Would you have plastic surgery to make you look EXACTLY like a celebrity of your choice?

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 13:25:59 -0500

So — honest truth — I’ve had this question sitting around for like, ever, but I’d kind of forgotten about it until this. So, then, obviously, I was like, “Better dig up that old question to show how ahead of the curve I am.” (Then I made “Hamster Dance” my screensaver and forwarded that crazy “I Kiss You” guy to some people I know who love to laugh, then I got right to work on this.) Anyway, the answer is no. Don’t get me wrong — there are bits and pieces of celeb faces I’d gladly take for a million dollars — say a nose here, or a pair of ears there, or whatever. But this is like, some next level, carbon-copy, cloning shit. Also, maybe if it 1) didn’t involve multiple invasive surgeries on 2) my FUCKING FACE? Because I don’t like that idea. So, my heart goes out to that poor girl that thinks getting back with some shithead is worth cutting up her face to look like some other lady that the shithead thinks he’s in love with despite having never met or seen her in real life, but I’m saying fuck that shit. (Is it just me or am I extra swear-y today?) So, that’s the story with that.

P.S. Part II to follow tomorrow…or the day after. Soon.

Would you become immortal?

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 14:48:03 -0500

I think this is one of the easiest questions to say no to — and actually, it’s kind of a no-brainer FUCK NO if you ask me (or if *I* ask me, which is kind of what I do on this blog) — but I seem to be the only one. Yeah, sure, I like living and all, but do we really need to belabor the point…forever? I mean, jeez. I think I get it already. I’m pretty sure that life matters so much mostly because (and this is key) shit’s finite; it’s the Time’s Up Factor that really counts for something here. So, yeah, dying is scary. But death gives life gravitas (or something like that. I dunno. What am I — a fucking philosopher?) Ahasver, so the story goes, is out walking the Earth till the end of time because walking the Earth till the end of time fucking SUCKS. It is not a reward! (Unlike being told you are immortal for the day, in which case you can jump off bridges and fall asleep in fire pits and commit suicide while listening to old Judas Priest with no ill effects and cool shit like that.) So absolutely not. Forever is too long.

Would you agree to only see things in shades of black and white, so that basically, the world would look like a ‘30s movie for the rest of your life?

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 14:05:41 -0500

At first I was like, “What have my eyeballs done for me lately that they should deserve to enjoy color so much anyways?” I mean, sure, they see and all that — if you’re gonna get hung up on technicalities — but oh, the many ways they’ve betrayed me! I’m so nearsighted that even the big “E” on the chart is a blur without my contacts and *that* equals thick glasses as a child and *that* equals NERD. I’ve ~~blocked out~~ forgotten most of junior high (except for a few very special episodes of Quantum Leap), but I do distinctly recall a kid in my 7th grade math class on the first day of school conspicuously scooching his desk right next to mine and announcing that he planned to copy off me because “she can see into the future with those glasses.” Because — if I understand his reasoning correctly — being a four-eyes might make you smart but being a Coke-bottle-four-eyes makes you a genius! No matter that I’d otherwise been going around without my glasses on all day, blind as a fucking bat, trying (this year would be different!) to live down my rep as a TAG dork. I was too exhausted from squinting to even try for a comeback. All my hard work destroyed in a single comment from some asshole kid who is very, very probably an asshole adult who, I hope, has a job working with raw sewage in some way or another. Doesn’t matter to me what particular role raw sewage plays in his career, only that it’s a (fucking huge) part of it. I’m not picky.

But I’ve wandered far off from the question. The answer to this one is gonna be a no. While I think it might be interesting to see the world bereft of color for a day, a lifetime is too much. You’d never again see, say, sunsets or rainbows or any other cliches that, truth be told, you don’t really see all that often but the point is you CAN if you CHOOSE to. That’s freedom! And my freedom cannot be bought!*

*…with just one million dollars. But I’m very, very open to negotiation.

Dear Becoming One With Life...

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 21:18:00 -0500

I loved (v. much!) your Glenn Beck question and would love for you to Guest Blog, but you have no contact info on your blog. If you’re at all interested, shoot me an email (my info is on my page)…

Sorry to interrupt with personal notes (= super lame), everyone. As you were.

Anyway — hope everyone had a great holiday.

Your Virtual Friend,

Kali

Would you allow yourself to be adopted by Sandra Bullock and live with her for four years? Note that she will conduct herself as a rich, football-crazed Southerner who pities you and teaches you "life lessons" the entire time.

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 14:06:00 -0500

IT’S GUEST BLOGGER FRIDAY! TODAY’S QUESTION WILL BE ANSWERED BY JOSH LUFT, A WRITER/MUSICIAN WORKING OUT OF A “PRIVATE FORTIFIED RESIDENCE” IN BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT BE A PLAYSKOOL DREAMTOWN SWEET LILY CASTLE. HE WRITES FICTION, PLAYS, ESSAYS, REVIEWS, MANUALS ON HOW TO TURN GRANDPARENTS INTO KILLING MACHINES, LISTS, FUN FACTS AND MUCH, MUCH MORE ON WHAT A FOOL BELIEVES AND MAKES FUZZED-OUT PRIMAL POP MUSIC AS VIRAGO. HE GETS BONUS POINTS FOR HAVING COME UP WITH THIS EXTREMELY CHALLENGING QUESTION WHICH HE SAYS WAS INSPIRED BY THE UPCOMING FILM THE BLIND SIDE (Eds Note: THAT NEW SANDRA BULLOCK WASTE OF CELLULOID THAT ATTEMPTS TO SATE AMERICA’S INSATIABLE APPETITE FOR MOVIES AND TELEVISION SHOWS ABOUT WHITE PEOPLE SAVING BLACK PEOPLE FROM THEMSELVES).

Yes, I would accept this challenge despite the fact that I find Sandra Bullock to be the most obnoxious actress of our time. Obnoxious doesn’t do her justice, really. She’s abhorrent — no, pestiferous. Yes, Sandra Bullock as an actress is like a pest problem. And how do you solve a pest problem?

Okay, so I couldn’t kill Sandra Bullock. That would be psychotic — though listening to her spewing folksy wisdom with a Southern affectation would no doubt drive me to psychosis — and, more importantly, would not allow me to receive the million dollar prize. However, this would not stop me from spending every waking hour, as the unwilling recipient of her “Tennessee TLC”: dry cornbread and sympathetic side-smiles, searching for a loophole, as if I were “Blackie” from Lost trying to kill Jacob, to rid myself of her before the four years were up and still receive the check. In a situation like this you have to keep your mind occupied; you have to create a goal and then you must steadfastly pursue that goal. This is how you keep your sanity while Bullock, with her bad blonde dye job and shoddy drawl, hovers around you offering one inane anecdote after another. So you think, “Well, maybe I could ask her to teach me about tornadoes by driving into one? She’ll be sucked into the vortex while I remain safe and sound on the ground thanks to my trusty Anti-Tornado Cement Suit.” Or, “Maybe she can tell me why drinking gasoline is “as silly as a shack on the side of the Great Smoky Mountains” by demonstration?” And then, “Once she’s gone, I could keep her around like Weekend at Bernie’s. No one’ll ever know the difference!”

But maybe I’m being too hard on her. Maybe I would be charmed by — okay, no. I’ve never once thought she was good in any movie — Wait! Demolition Man! I love Demolition Man! And she was in that! Maybe not good, but definitely in it. How could I hate someone from that wacky, dystopian classic? A film about a future with cryogenics, fines for even the mildest profanity, Wesley Snipes with a golden crewcut, and Taco Bell as fine dining! It’s ridiculous and wonderful! So maybe I wouldn’t have to spend four years trying to get rid of her. I could spend the four years trying to coax her into reenacting the entirety of Demolition Man with me, highlighting the anti-swearing, anti-violence, anti-sex, anti-everything of its fictional future, hoping she would believe that it would teach me values about life, even if the film turns out to be kind of pro-everything, and actually enjoy myself. It’s a plan so crazy it just might work. As Sylvester Stallone’s character John Spartan says in the film, “Send a maniac to catch a maniac.”

Bring it on, Bullock.

- Josh L.

I can’t tell if the trailer for this movie is a remake of Diff’rent Strokes or Webster (or Dangerous Minds or Freedom Writers). Or if they kept the laugh track or decided to go without it (because the comedy is so obviously obvious). Or if this remake will include the ”Sam” character — that redhaired, country singin’, slack jawed yokel/poor man’s Yosemite Sam who apparently failed to hide the fact that the show was a pile of excrement in need of swift cancellation. I can’t tell much at all from the trailer actually. But for some reason I get a very strong feeling that although Sandra Bullock takes up the burden of adopting and educating this noble savage, it is she who will learn a lesson in love.

So, anyway, if the question is, do I want to spend the next four years living in a retread of a cliche (even if it is “based on a true story”) — a life that’s all swelling strings and football as a metaphor and hearts being embiggened left and right and whatever else bullshit — the answer is no. Although there are a million (!) ways in which I can be bought, this seems too high a price to pay. Gag me.

- Kali

Would you only drink milk from unorthodox sources (rats, cats, dogs, etc.) for the rest of your life?

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 13:23:23 -0500

First of all, yes, that’s really a picture of a mouse being manually milked (guess you just found the photo for your holiday cards)! I’m guessing that a lactating rat’s teats are only slightly larger than those of a mouse, so scrounging up even a thimbleful of rat milk is probably a fucking endeavor. Which is neither here nor there, but I’m just sayin’. Also, remember that Simpsons episode when Fat Tony was the milk source for Springfield’s schools but then Homer finds out he’s been giving the kids rats’ milk because he discovers that hidden room full of rats hooked up to tiny milking machines? Ha. That was funny. Anyway, this dare is a big time no for me because I think cow’s milk is disgusting enough and when you start talking about drinking milk from dogs and cats and rodents my gag reflex starts up and are you fucking serious Heather Mills? So, I’ll pass on this one. Can’t truss it.

Would you take a year off your life?

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 12:28:00 -0500

IT’S GUEST BLOGGER FRIDAY! TODAY’S QUESTION WILL BE ANSWERED BY JEFFREY BEAUMONT, A FREELANCE CULTURE WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER (WHO OTHERWISE PLANS GLOBAL EVENTS FOR MEDIA EXECUTIVES FOR A LIVING). AN UPBEAT BUT ANXIOUS PERSON BY NATURE, HE CONQUERED A SEEMINGLY CRUSHING AND LIFE-LONG WELTSCHMERZ ONCE AND FOR ALL BY DEDICATING SIX MONTHS OF HIS LIFE IN 2008 TO A PROJECT CALLED HYPERLIVING, WHICH ENTAILED DOING ONE UNIQUE ACTIVITY EVERY DAY FOR A WEEK, EACH WEEK, AND DETAILED SLAVISHLY ON A BLOG OF SAME NAME. (THE HYPERLIVING MANIFESTO, BTW, CAN BE FOUND HERE). THESE DAYS, YOU CAN CHECK OUT HIS MUSINGS ON CULTURE, MUSIC AND SPORTS AT SLANGEDITORIAL.NET. JEFFREY WAKES UP EACH MORNING REMINDING HIMSELF THAT HE LIVES BY THE CREDO: “I AM A MAN DESTINED TO LEARN BY CRUEL EXPERIENCE.” DO NOT TAKE HIS ADVICE FOR ANY REASON.

I won’t beat around the bush on this one: There is absolutely no question that I would trade a year of my life for a million dollars. A few reasons why:

1) I consider myself a life-living maximalist, but also one for whom the pendulum has constantly swung back and forth between feeling satisfied and depressed. In my limited 28 years of experience, the one thing I have identified for myself as being paramount to living right is to be able to maintain a high quality of life, and to have the agency to live that life to the fullest. One million dollars, at this point, would go a long way toward giving me the agency to open up a great range of possibilities that I feel are already at my disposal but which I can’t right now quite attain.

2) I am a man who, by most accounts, lives life by “burning the candle at both ends.” I sleep three to five hours a night, I try to do as many things as possible with my day, and tend to rest only when I’m no longer able to stay awake. I do not spend much time sitting around reflecting on what I might not do with my tomorrow. For these reasons, I’m fairly convinced that I’m either going to live a long time or that I will die — maybe accidentally — quite young. Either way though, whenever I go, it’s going to be because I gave everything and this was how it’s meant to be.

I’ve often heard people harp on the idea that they’d “rather be dead than old.” While I think I could get behind that idea, in this specific case, my desire to take the money and run has much more to do with living right and in the moment and not worrying about what happens later.

I imagine that even within the silly confines of this game, accepting the money will not require some ominous pre-death meeting with The Grim Reaper whereby I’m reminded that I will lose a year starting at some certain point. When I die, I’ll be just be dead.

Therefore, taking this deal is a NO BRAINER, because I’ll never have any way of knowing what I might have “lost.” It’s just, in the words of Jay-Z, “poof —vamoose, son of a bitch.” And prior to dying, I’ll have used those dollars to gear up my life-force possibilities and make sure I continue living each day to the fucking max. HOLLA! This shit is really too easy.

- Jeffrey B.

I’ve been listening to suicide-note songs all morning (Palace Brothers, Elliott Smith, El Perro del Mar, Red House Painters, Chris Bell…you get the drift) to counter all the drunk chanting/yelling/drunkening coming from the parade outside my window, so I’m actually pretty in the mood to do some life shortening. (I don’t hate the Yankees and I don’t hate parades, but I do hate how they combine to make it harder to get to an office job I don’t particularly want to go to in the first place.) The answer to this one probably depends on the day and the mood for me, but at this moment, it is a yes. If family history means anything, I’ve got a good chance of making it to my 90s, which sounds just exhausting. You give me $1M, I give you 365 days. Sounds fair enough. Happy Friday.

- Kali

Would you subsist on a super inadequate, crappy diet until you got scurvy or rickets?

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 13:26:50 -0500

Everybody thinks that no one gets scurvy anymore in the modern West, but that shit still happens. I had a friend in college who — cross my heart — got scurvy because for months all he ate was these fake chicken product things called ”crispy patties” and imitation soft serve ice-cream that was so budget it didn’t even contain real milk. And then there was that story in Vice a few years back where some British guy recounted how he got scurvy after living on water and flour for months and which freaked me out and is burned into my brain because of this bit:

“I could push my tongue into the roof of my mouth and spit out blood and pus…If I scratched myself lightly on any part of my body, it would come up in pus-filled welts minutes later. I also discovered scars that had been healed for years had started to reopen.”

His years-old scars reopened! That part just kills me.

In case you’re wondering, rickets is kind of the same thing except that it results from a lack of Vitamin D (instead of Vitamin C) in children and leads to soft bones and bowed legs like this. Basically, neither of these diseases sounds like fun (most diseases are not!), but I am more than happy to endure pain for money. I’m guessing that as soon as the scurvy kicked in and I suffered for a day or two, I could stop eating paper or whatever and finally have a fucking orange or something to put a stop to it. The short answer is, I absolutely believe it’s worth shedding a little pus and blood to get $1M. So count me in! Diseases for money!

* Useless Factoid of the Day: Scurvy was “popular” with 18th Century sailors and pirates, until they figured out that citrus could stave off the disease. The British Royal Navy used limes to keep its soldiers healthy, and all that lime eating led to Brits being called “limeys” in former British colonies. And that’s one to grow on!

LIVE WRONG AND PROSPER -- THE BOOK!

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 14:24:05 -0500

Dear Tumblr Friends*,

I’m hoping to self-publish the book Live Wrong and Prosper: Your Morals for A Million, partly because this game never gets old to me and partly because I have a backlog of hundreds and hundreds of questions I’m excited to share with the world. I’m using Kickstarter to raise the money for publishing costs, and I’m asking for your help; by donating anything you can – even, say, $1.00 (and every donation is much appreciated) – I can get this book made. Plus, you get rewards – prizes of sorts – for giving! If you’ve enjoyed the blog at all – and I really, really hope you have – I hope you’ll give whatever you can to help me complete the book.

To check out my Kickstarter page and watch me ask random strangers on the street some Live Wrong and Prosper questions (Note: Apparently, most people would NOT eat a bowl of their own shit for $1M) please visit http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/easylover/live-wrong-and-prosperthe-book.

I appreciate any help, including just reblogging this.

Thanks,

Kali

* We are friends, aren’t we?

Would you agree to have your corpse left in the woods to be devoured by wild animals?

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 13:19:08 -0500

Maybe I have some inner hippie making me say shit like this, but I actually think this sounds like kind of an awesome idea. Because do you know the sort of totally disgusting shit that happens to you when you are no longer you, but a dead body? First of all, bacteria inside of you produce gases which smell horrible to other people but delicious to bugs, who in turn lay eggs on your every orifice (including the ones ***down there***), which then hatch into little maggots the size of grains of rice that grow fat eating your subcutaneous fat and munch their way through the top of your mouth to reach your brain, which they love because it’s soft and very edible, which then causes your brain to liquefy and literally leak out of your ears and mouth. And that’s just in the early stages! It goes on and on like that with new and grosser bugs getting in on the act and you turning into a swampy mess of stinking yuck. Which seems so much grosser than just letting some coyotes have at you, no? I’d take being eaten by animals any day over that and happily. Plus, there’s a circle-of-life thing here that I’m kind of into, you know? I mean, next to being freeze-dried and made into fertilizer – which tops my list of ways to dispose of Dead Me – it’s a pretty good alternative to just, like, rotting away. So yes! For $1M, the animals can totally eat my dead body. They can eat it all up.

Would you set up a phony charity along the lines of Make-A-Wish, with the sole intention of disappointing terminally ill children?

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 13:11:00 -0400

Little kids are funny. But much, much less so when they are dying. Maybe it’s the constant agony and pain or the facing your mortality at a ridiculously young age or maybe they just stop trying, but dying kids are really no laughing matter, and neither are get-rich-quick schemes at their expense. Trust me, I know (don’t ask). And as much as that Mr. Show skit where Bob and David play these two sleazy idiots who run “Dream of a Lifetime” — a shitty “Make-A-Wish” knock-off that asks dying kids their dreams and half-half-asses trying to fulfill them, and then never does to the extreme — is hilarious, in real life, that kind of thing is not so funny. It’s cruel and awful and if you’re like, “Me? Oh, I’m in importing and exporting and defrauding dying kids. Them little terminally ill bastards are where the real money is!” then there is probably something wrong with you, in my expert medical opinion. (I am Dr. Psychologist Lady, E.S.P.) So no on this one, but that skit is really fucking funny and you should watch it. Really. (It’s also here if you can’t see it above.)

Would you eat a serving of human flesh?

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 13:03:00 -0400

IT’S GUEST BLOGGER FRIDAY! TODAY’S QUESTION WILL BE ANSWERED BY JAYSON GREENE. JAYSON IS AN EDITOR AT eMUSIC AND WRITES ABOUT MUSIC FOR PITCHFORK AND A FEW OTHER PLACES. OH — AND HE’S APPARENTLY OKAY WITH EATING PEOPLE FOR MONEY. WHO KNEW?

So my gut-level reaction, upon first reading this question, was a pretty immediate “psychological no-no.” It seemed (initially) like one of those “a bridge too far” experiences for me: Once I did this, I’d be a millionaire, but I’d be, well, a millionaire cannibal. And while I’m certain that, at some point in human history, a bored member of the superrich elite has ordered someone unimportant killed and cooked for their amusement, saying “yes” to this would still put me in a fairly exclusive club mostly populated by serial killers.

But, as I kept thinking about it, I slowly realized the answer was “yes.” I mean, the question makes pretty clear that I don’t actually have to KILL anyone. I don’t have to, say, slowly win the trust of a teenage runaway as I lure him into my home and start innocently dicing onions. In a way, this realization simplified the question for me and made it pretty much no different from eating any other kind of meat: as long as I don’t have to do the dirty work of killing it, I’m down. Bring it on. I mean, not to get all “I raise chickens in the back of my Brooklyn brownstone” on you, but how different is this — for ME, the diner, anyway — from ordering veal or foie gras or suckling pig in a restaurant and eating whatever deliciousness comes out without a twinge of conscience?

The only question left for me is preparation: I imagine it would be tough and would require extra care, so let’s slow-cook it, until it’s “falling off the bone.” A heavy base of onions and carrots and celery would make it earthy and comforting, like a good pot roast. Let’s throw some mushrooms in there, some white wine and rosemary. Oh man, this is starting to sound good. Yes to this.

- Jayson G.

I agree with Jayson’s reasoning, and I’d like to think I’d do this, and maybe if you hit me up on the right day I would, but I’m just not feeling this one today. For starters, just the thought is making me a *little* nauseous. And while Time magazine reports that “human flesh, when the source is not known, is tender and sweet,” and that crazy German guy who ate that other guy and filmed it (remember him?) says that it “tastes like pork, a little bit more bitter, stronger…[it] tastes quite good,” and Albert Fish (who was basically the boogeyman except 1000x worse) said “I never ate any roast turkey that tasted half as good as” butt cheeks (He really said that. What a fucking nutter, right? ), I’m going no for now. Just not into the whole cannibalism thing at this juncture.

- Kali

Would you become a lifelong member of the Church of Satan?

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 13:46:54 -0400

I guess this question might be hard if you’re religious but, for me, this is kind of like asking if I’d walk around screaming “Boo!” at people and wearing a shirt that says “I’m A Little Devil!” And the answer is hells yes. Lone nut, self-proclaimed Satanists who believe their dogs are commanding them to go on murder sprees and to eat people’s hearts are really fucking scary; so are Norwegian Nazi Satanist black metal band members who, after finding the body of a bandmate who committed suicide by blowing his head off, rush out to buy a disposable camera to take pictures of the corpse (you know, to use as the cover art for the new album) AND make a stew out of his brains AND fashion a necklace from shards of his skull — all before getting around to calling the police. Granted, those people are YIKES!, but you know who isn’t scary? Actual members of the Church of Satan. I mean, who was Anton LaVey really but a super flamboyant keyboard player who starfucked around with Sammy Davis, Jr. and Jayne Mansfield (and who would never shut the fuck up about it)? And, honestly, how frightening is a church with a website that includes salutations like, “Satanism is not for everyone, but if it is for you, we welcome you!” I guess the Devil frowns on inconveniencing people, because they make it pretty easy to become a member: you can apply online (actual question: “Tell one of your favorite jokes.”) and they’ll accept the $200 fee via PayPal. And get this: You never have to actually go to church, or tithe, or whatever. You sign up, pay your fee and you’re done. What is so fucking scary about a church that gives new members a registration packet and the chance to be put on the e-bulletin list? (Fun!) Seriously, how afraid can you be of a church with tenets that include “Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them” and “Do not harm little children”? That’s scary like a goth that has a curfew. Yes, yes, yes to this one. $1,000,000=Team Satan all the way.

Would you have sex with a sheep?

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:08:34 -0400

The old proverb goes, “Women be shopping, and men be having sex with sheep.” And of course, it’s so obviously old-fashioned and we’re so much more enlightened about gender roles now and yadda, yadda, yadda but can we get real for a second? That part about sheep sex is still kinda true, amiright? So, okay, yeah, we all know that not every guy thinks ballin’ sheep is a good time. I would even go so far as to say that most do not! I would also turn right around and say that the people who *are* on the sheep DL are pretty much only men people. And while there are a lot of obvious down sides to all that, there are also up sides, too? Because it really makes it easy to imagine there’s no countries and how we’re really more alike than we are different? Because sheep fuckers are quite an international lot? They are in Germany, and Massachusetts, and South Africa, and Michigan, and England, and the Netherlands. And I’d guess very definitely probably New Zealand? And think what you want, but they have standards, and will accept no imitations, including even sheep blow-up dolls, like this one here, which is advertised as a gag gift but I’m sure that at this very second there is someone who is not laughing because they’re too busy having sex with it? Think about it!

I almost lost my point, though. Which is that I’m saying no. Oh, I’m sure there are some ladies who have cracked the sheep-fucking glass ceiling (Congrats??), but I don’t think this is for me. Aside from the fact that I think I’d have to be permanently institutionalized right after, I can’t even figure out how the mechanics of lady-on-sheep sex would work (I mean, I can if I really think about it but no). So, anyway. No.*

* A special thank you to me for not ending that with ”naaaaaah.” Like a sheep? Get it? Thanks to me for not doing that.

Would you get permanent horn implants?

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 13:47:00 -0400

I’m so not into this shit that saying “I’m not into this shit” doesn’t really give you any insight into how for reals not I am. Into it, I mean. Okay, so, I know the ’90s were this period when people got it into their heads that piercings were awesome and grunge and The Enigma and Slacker and flannel-shirts-over-long-johns, but when I see piercings and the things they have wrought, like horn implants, these days I think they’re not so much “rebellious” and “defiant” as they are ”boring even my nana” and “putting me to sleep.” I guess if you want to have a career with Jim Rose’s circus (also super ’90s) then by all means, have at it — dream big! — but fuck a lifetime of horns on my head. No horns! NO HORNS!