Some people argue about some things, while other people argue
about other things. It almost seems pointless to see so many people
arguing so many different things when there is only one true topic to argue
about: Was Lewis Carrol or was Lewis Carrol not a pedophile? I brought
up this topic of conversation while I was getting my clothes laminated
at a nearby copy shop. I laminate my clothes so that the coffee I
spill on them can just be wiped right off, thus preventing stains on my
avante garde-esque garb, not to mention what it does for my posture.
I believe that when I have children I'm going to have them laminated too.
It will cut down on unnecessary water usage, thereby keeping our water
supplies secure for future plastic generation. And while we're laminating,
for yes, you are all involved in my little plastic vision of the future,
why not vacuum seal too? Keep it fresh, baby, keep it fresh.
That's the way I like things. Fresh. Except my women.
I like my women to be a bit on the decomposed side. Not too dry (I
hate dating a flake), but not mouthy and opinionated, either. Right
in between is where they should be, and I like it when their second toe
is bigger than their first toe. That really gets me going.
Not obese-type big, but shall we say a masculine second toe, perhaps.
Which isn't to say that I have any odd or sick toe fetish, mind you...unless
there's anyone out there who's interested, that is...
Speaking of sick fetishes, what about that Lewis Carrol fellow?
You know the guy: Wrote Alice in Wonderland and whatnot. The history
books say Carrol was a shy but kindly man with a speech impediment who
really only wanted to be a preacher. So he wrote cute little acid
dreams for little children. Little female children. Was he
a sick man? Do you believe that the worlds he dreamt were innocent
of debauchery and sin? Do you really believe that it was a kinder,
gentler place? Puh-leaze!! The man was sick. He thought
a lot about what Alice's toes were like, I'll wager. And of course
the I bring this up is that I wonder, I just wonder, what the hell is the
big deal about Beavis and Butthead? I have a really good idea about
how to eliminate the demented followers of these two generalized images
of today's youth. I would like to create a Beavis and Butthead animated
feature film. After about 3 to 5 minutes of mindless animation, the
poisonous gas begins to seep into the theater, catching all those poor
excuses for human beings in mid guffaw, sending them off to Never Never
Land...Not that I have a problem with the future generations...well, not
all of them, just most of them. They seem to be so good at being
different that they haven't a clue who they really are. "Aunty Em,
Aunty Em, I just had the most wonderful dream. It was Beavis and
Butthead versus the Terminator, and the Terminator cut them into little
pieces with a machine gun, and everyone else lived happily ever after.
And then the tasmanian Devil showed up and ate Vanilla Ice, only he got
sick from it and puked him up, and Mr. Ice's appearance was greatly improved
by the whole ordeal, and then Barney the Dinosaur got attacked by an Alien
face-hugger and it laid an egg in him and it hatched and blew out of his
chest. There was purple ichor everywhere and Aunty Em, it was beautiful."
November 28, 1993 3:40 a.m.
Dear Diary,
Today I met a really interesting girl. She says that she is the
Devil's Mistress and that she would like to sacrifice me to her lord and
master. I don't know if I'm going to do it yet. She's really
nice and all, but that is a pretty big commitment. What if it doesn't
work out? I could just end up getting hurt from the whole experience.
Maybe I should get to know her better first, but in getting to know her
better what happens if after a while I feel as thought we're only staying
together for the sake of the little pagans we've brought into this world?
Well, I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'll just let the chips fall
where they may. I just hope I don't miss out on a truly rewarding
experience.
November 28, 1993 3:58 a.m.
Dear Diary,
Disregard that last entry. I've just met the most wonderful girl
in the world. She's studying to be a sadist, and she wants to use
me as a model to enhance her studies. I'm not really sure what the
job entails yet, but it sounds so exciting! She really seems to be
into leather, which would make Christmas shopping less of a chore, and
I've noticed that she wears handcuffs as accessories. I can't wait
to bring her home to mom! She gave me her address and told me to
come by tomorrow for our first session. I am so excited! Also,
she asked me to bring a set of jumper cables. Funny, her car seems
to be running fine. Wonder why she wants me to bring the jumper cables?
I'm so curious. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
November 28, 1993 3:59:28 a.m.
Dear Diary,
I have now found the most fantastic example of the female gender.
She's beautiful, she's intelligent, she's responsible, we believe in the
same things, we enjoy the same hobbies. I do believe that I could
honestly spend the rest of my days with this woman. So I hit her
real hard, called her a bunch of ugly names, and I feel much safer now.
It's good to be the King...
November 28, 1993 4:14 a.m.
Dear Diary,
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Toostie Roll
Pop? I would really like to meet a girl named Tootsie Roll Pop and
find out for myself. And if George Washington really did die of Syphilis,
where did he get it? They didn't have sex back then as we all know,
so where did he get such a disease? I have a theory. Syphilis
originated in Africa (as do all major diseases) from the bark of a tree
known by the common man as the Syphilis Tree. The bark of the tree
is hard, yet easy to shape, making it ideal for carving miniatures and
masks and such. Well, one of George Washington's slaves brought some
of that bark with him when he was dragged here from his native Africa.
This slave, whose name was Dennis, grew to love Mr. Washington, and when
Mr. Washington began losing teeth, Dennis felt very sorry for him and carved
a set of dentures from the bark of the Syphilis Tree.. Now, the Africans
were immune to this disease, from many years of using it. However,
white people were not immune to it because they were assholes back then.
It was a karmic retribution type of thing. Anyway, Dennis felt very
badly afterward when it was discovered that Georgey died of stick in mouth
disease. Ah, that's history for ya.
November 28, 1993 4:37 a.m.
Dear Diary,
Have you ever watched a friend of the opposite sex urinate in front
of you? It's an interesting experience. It just happened to
me. I wasn't expecting it, I didn't want it, and before I could say
anything about it, it happened. This was a friend whom I respected
not only as a human being but as an example of what I considered to be
truly feminine, as well. That is until I saw her pull down her pants
and tinkle in front of me. Now I sometimes find it difficult to look
her in the,,,uhm...eye. Is that wrong? What should I do?
All my life I've been led to believe that women did not have any bodily
functions other than menstruation, which was explained to me as "a monthly
cleansing of the magical baby factory." All of my beliefs about the
female physiology have been dashed upon the jagged rocks of live by this
one act, and now I feel lost. I mean what's next? Will women
be telling us that they fart, too? I believe that equality has gone
too far when women can experience bodily functions in public, unless they
experience these said functions vicariously through someone belonging to
my own gender, or unless it involves sex. Now a lot of women might
argue the point that this is a sexist attitude, and they might be right,
but then again they asked to be treated as "equals" which in political
circles means "I'm a social minority. Please persecute me."
I believe that women should be considered superior just for the fact that
they can have children. Especially male children.
November 28, 1993 5:17 a.m.
Dear Diary,
I'm now suffering a large contusion of my upper anatomy because a female
friend took my last entry too much to heart. Not that I blame her.
I seem to make a lot of girls angry at me for my personal social beliefs.
Oh well. She was a frigid bitch anyway. I love her to death,
but she was a frigid bitch. Even more so now, I imagine. I
had to chop her into little bitty pieces and stuff her in my freezer.
Hey, like I said, I like my women a little on the decomposed side.
And it always pays to have a spare in the fridge.
November 28, 1993 5:31 a.m.
Dear Diary,
All of the girls have left. Was it something I said? I
suppose they didn't much appreciate either my words or my actions, for
I seem to have made quite a mess with the frigid bitch bit. Oh well,
I suppose there's something to be said for a person who can use his personality
as a form of birth control. Now that the girls are gone and there's
no one left to offend, I might as well move on to another topic of discussion.
Family values. How much is a family worth these days? Who believes
they live in a well-adjusted family, anyway, and why would something as
unimportant as family values have anything to do with who is going to run
this great country of ours? Clinton may be a hell of a guy, but would
you really want him to raise your kids? The man can barely keep from
being lampooned by the newspapers, and this is the man you're going to
trust to take care of little Johnny? I think that anyone who can't
feed everybody probably isn't going to be showing up at many P.T.A. meetings,
but I admire the guy because it takes a special breed of man to ruin his
life by becoming the scape-goat for every red-blooded American out there.
Let's face it, we are a tough crowd to please, and almost all of us have
access to firearms. You wanna be President? You better duck
and weave real good. Speaking of Family Values, I think that mankind
should be equipped with a post-active abortion button. That way you
can have a kid, let it hang around for a few years, decide if you like
it, and if not, BAM. Gone. And you get a rain-check for all
that time you wasted raising the little shit. And the best part is;
no guilt! Let's face it. You wouldn't buy a pair of shoes unless
you tried them on first, would you? I believe that the status quo
of normal families has become the dysfunctional family. If the dysfunctional
family is the norm, then that would make the functional family abnormal.
I don't know anyone who comes from a "functional" family, unless of course
the members of said family avoid any kind of contact with each other whatsoever,
but that's a sucker of a different flavor. Most families today are
split by divorce, alcohol, abuse (both mental and physical), and, of course,
arguments. Which brings us back full circle to the concept that began
this drivel, Lewis Carrol's sexual quirks. I don't think that having
a sexual quirk or two is bad, I've been known to have a few myself, and
I don't specifically mind what Lewis Carrol fantasized about. Hell,
even then it was legal to fantasize as long as you kept it in your pants,
so to speak. The discussion that a friend and I were having was balanced
on the certain point that even though you may be good writer, or a good
role model, or a good model airplane, it really doesn't matter, because
someone somewhere is going to think of you as a sick, demented pervert
of some variety (for there are at least 57 to chose from). Just remember
that the only disgusting things in the world are the things you wouldn't
do. There are some reindeer games best left unplayed. Did Lewis
Carrol like Christmas? Did he like little girls? What's the
difference? So to this friend with whom I had this discussion in
regards to the purity or impurity of Mr. Carrol, I would just like to say
this: Mali Kaliki Maka, Feliz Navidad, Happy Chanukkah, Merry Christmas,
and all that other happy bullshit which in essence boils down to two words.
Two words that explain everything you ever wanted to know about anything
you ever thought might possibly be important to your life. Two words
that can start any argument and possibly prolong it eternally, and, more
importantly, the answer to the Lewis Carrol riddle: WAS TOO!