Aqua Teen Piss Force

I was being put to bed. I was five. Mom was getting me a drink of water in a small Mason jar. I stood there, waiting around in my red and yellow Schzam underoos for mom to fetch the water and put ice in it when I realized I was in a very silly mood! I got the water and went down the hallway to the bedroom, the ice clinking around in the glass as I walked.

Mom goes back into the den and keeps talking with dad. Dad was sitting around reading magazines. Then I proceed to get out of bed. I take a blank sheet of paper and start writing on it with a green Crayon. I was laughing as I wrote. I knew it made no sense. It was just funny, so I wrote it. All it said was…

“The Kitty Bullshit”

I was laughing so hard to myself that I couldn’t stand everyone else not knowing about it, so I go into the den to give the sheet of paper to mom and dad to read. Mom sees me coming and just as she glances over at me walking up to her, I hand her the paper. She reads it and stands there puzzled, watching me giggle. She looks at the paper, and then at me again. She’s speechless for a few seconds. She goes to spank me on the butt and says, “This is nasty and it doesn’t make any sense.”

So I get one hard pop on the butt for using the word “bullshit” (a word dad himself used on a number of occasions and mom never seemed to take issue with). I took the spanking, and now just inwardly, kept laughing. Then I went back to bed like I was told, noticing how mom was fighting back laughter herself, looking over at dad for a reaction.

Sometimes inexplicable humor just catches us off-guard. We can’t fight it. We can’t beat it. We don’t even know why we have it. It just takes us, and that – my friends – is what makes life grand!

Thinking about this stupid episode the other day as I sat on the shitter, it had me going again. I was in another weird, whacky mood! I get that way from time to time! But now I started to mentally make a connection between water and piss and shit that I had never really thought about before.

It occurred to me that all the water in cycle on planet earth is not new. It has been in cycle since it was deposited on earth through comets, meteors, and stardust more than four billion years ago. Even springs and river water have their respective cycles. All water is recycled—and not just by man for sanitation purposes either!

The cycles of water are evaporation, condensation, precipitation, interception, infiltration, percolation, transpiration, runoff, and storage. Some water is kept compressed deep within the reservoirs of the earth for up to fifteen hundred years, but even it is recycled. And that only leads to one ghastly conclusion: We have all been drinking dinosaur piss!

That’s right; that glass of ice water or Culligan-filtered tap water in your cup has spent ceaseless ages in the warm bladders of theropods and giant lizards before a single repugnant-looking, horny chimp creamed out the first to-be ancestor of ours.

More recently, that water has spent its time in the bladders of old men, some of them pissing blood with advanced forms of prostate cancer. This is why dirty water in less civilized parts of the world (like Mexico, for instance) makes tourists sick when they drink it. When you drink it, you get “the runs” because your body is trying to rid itself of processed burrito remains and tequila shooter extracts, along with the parasites that you ingested from Santa Anna’s great, great, great, great, great, great grandchildren. So, how does it feel to know that you are regularly drinking in the vag water from a syphilis-infested Tijuana whore?

Closer to home, grandpa’s phlegm, disgustingly coughed up at the dinner table – just before you’re about to chomp down on that fork-load of gravy atop chicken fried steak – contains water that has gone through the intestinal tracks of billions upon billions of life forms for longer than you can possibly imagine!

And just think; only 3 months ago, that same water making up 86% of your body might very well have been stored in the swollen, fluid-retaining legs of an obnoxiously loud and morbidly obese trailer-park-trash white woman on disability with six butt-ugly kids. She’s so fucking fat that she can’t properly clean “back there” and so she stinks all the way to St. Peter. Fucking gross, man!

That means the nastiest watery diarrhea you’ve ever seen stewing in your toilet bowl, sooner or later, you’re going to be drinking down on a hot summer’s day in a glass of iced tea or a bottle of Deja Blue after a brisk game of Tennis! Get ready, fucking McEnroe!

It’s a fact: our water isn’t created anew in the earth. Hasn’t been since it was first spit out of a dying star billions of years back. So every molecule of water on our planet has been sweat-out, shit-out, pissed-out, spit-out, sneezed-out, and cummed-out! Hey, I’d like to occasionally think that the water I’m swimming in at the local pool or chugging down after a hard day’s work was once inside Jenna Jameson! Yum! Or am I being too optimistic there? Yeah, maybe, but who knows, right? Knowing that I daily consume the ass sweat from a pedophilic post-op tranny, I think I can be forgiven for a little misplaced optimism, don’t you?

It’s sure good to be human, aye? Blah! Gag me with a mother-fucking spoon!!!


Every Second of My Life

Every second of my life brings me closer to death, closer to the manifold miseries of the human existence as they drift ever nearer to the forefront of my mind. Every second brings my friends and loved ones closer to their deaths and to the senseless suffering they will face.

Every second of my life hides the young, energetic, ambitious man I once was and brings to light the tired and worn-out bag of blood and bones I see in the mirror every morning. Every second reveals yet another broken dream, another long, lost, childlike desire thrown to the wind with age, and with every mistake made comes the assurance of many more to follow.

Every second of my life paints a new picture of the world around me, an ugly picture of things increasingly less familiar, a scary world where the changes get faster and faster and the responses of the mind slower and slower. Every second is a reminder of what I once had but can have no longer, as I watch young children play without a care in the world.

Every second of my life brings the knowledge of mortality up and the energy level down; every second hastens the coming of wrinkles and slows the healing of wounds. Every second robs the four seasons of their splendor, for even when they are arriving, they are already saying goodbye.

Every second of my life reminds me that each second lost is lost forever. Time, like so many opportunities now gone, is unredeemable. Every second is like the ticking clock…tick, tick, ticking away…slowly but surely ticking. You can wish for it all to come to an end right now, but you can’t make the hands of time move any faster. Sure, time flies, but never when you want it to.

Every second of my life, the blood flows and the chemicals change, the mood swings, wants and needs cycle through in course, which makes for an even more turbulent ride on the already hellishly frightful rollercoaster of life. Every second, I wait. Twiddling my thumbs, staring at my walls, I wait for what I know not; maybe good, maybe bad, but when it gets here, it’s usually bad instead of good.

Every second of my life, the prospects grow dimmer. The future is bleak – as was the past, as is the present – while the splendid salvation of an eternal sleep in the dirt seems oh so far away. Every second for me is an eternity, each moment in time a long, ceaseless ordeal before it takes its rightful place in the annals of the regretful past. But every second of my life I love because each one is a step towards the last.


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