Fuckin' A. They say a man ain't a man till he's built something. Something that he can be proud of, something that shows the world that he is a man. For the past two years, Bill, I've been building. Waking up early on Saturday, staying up late during the week. Day in and day out, my mind fixed on my goal: to leave a legacy, to remind people of who I was. And I think I've done it. I've spent hundreds, thousands of dollars on this monument to manhood. I believe I may have personally paid for my local hardware store's mortgage twenty years early. But that was the dedication I put forth into this structure. You see, it wasn't just me up there, swinging my hammer, pounding in the nails, my dad was up there too. Just like the day he gave me my first screwdriver he closed his hand around mine and guided my skill. I could feel his presence. In a strange way, I almost feel like I built this not only for me, but for him as well. You know Bill, there were days when I didn't think I would ever finish. There were days where things just didn't go right. Days like that one afternoon my dog chased a squirrel through the site and ended up in the cement truck's mixer. So this is dedicated to him too. Even though I know you were always supportive of my work, I have to mention all the doubters and scorners too. They were the ones who gave me the little extra bit of fire I needed on days where I just felt like this project would never end. Rather than crush my spirit, they only caused it to soar higher. So I thank them too. But last of all, I want to thank you, Bill. Without your steady hand at the rudder, I would never have sailed so straight. Ironic choice of words, I know, but thank you all the same. Now today we have a place to engage in our leather-bound masochistic butt-fucking without any looky-loos or inquisitive children. Get that ass inside, Bill.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
How you all doing tonight? Great, great. Tonight I'm gonna make you laugh, cry, and sing, all in the name of the Lord. Hopefully. Ha ha. Let me tell you about a little place I like to go. I call it my "special place." Even Jesus don't know where that is, so I tell him, "Hey Jesus, this way, don't bump your head!" He did once. Guess he's used to torture! Well anyway, I went into my special place to talk to the Lord a little bit. Lord, I said, The wife and I been having some problems lately. Sometimes I just don't know what she's talking about. But I mean, the Longhorns were on the five with thirty seconds left down by a field goal! How'm I supposed to listen to how the kids' grades is slippin' when the volume's up to 78? Don't she know that Saturday is a day of reverence? I guess it is for Jews and University of Texas football fans!
You know, kids is such a blessing. Or maybe one of the seven plagues. First plague: too many mouths to feed and a whole heap of debt. Seventh plague: relief. Just kidding to all of you proud parents out there. You know, I'm very proud of my children. Three of 'em are gonna be in college all at the same time, though. I know, I know. There is nobody on Earth praying for the Rapture harder than I am. You know, that reminds me. D'you think that if the Rapture happened during the Super Bowl we could all just say, "Hang back, Lord, I gotta know what happens!" I can't wait to see what the Lord has to say about football. I'm one step away from proclaiming it the most wonderful thing ever invented. Right behind eternal grace.
I'd really like to thank all of the fine people at this wonderful institution for letting me speak here tonight. I know it's strange asking a comedian talk for the sermon, but I'm sure you all here don't mind a little spice added to the Bread of Life! The pastor here, Reverend Simmons, this man sure has seen it all. He's so old, he learned to swim to survive the Great Flood! I've also had a wonderful chance to work hand-in-hand with Assistant Pastor Jenkins. He told me that he loves the church here, and that the Reverend is a very exacting and demanding mentor. Said that if he had been around during Moses' time, he would've edited the "Ten Commandments!" I told him, "If? I heard there were originally twelve of 'em and old Reverend Simmons sat down with Moses hisself and told him to cut it down!" Well, that's all the time I've got, but I'd like to finish with some words of wisdom that I was lucky enough to receive at a young age. "Sharpening your spiritual edge is as important as sharpening the edge of your sword, for the day will come when iron fails and all you will have left is yourself and your Lord." Thank you very much.
And if you come to tonight's show, I'll be treating you to a frank and extensive description of my cock.
Hey Lawrence. Yeah, good weekend. How was yours? Oh, great. That kid of yours sure has a wild streak! Gotta keep an eye on her as she grows up! Yeah. Oh, Larry, here's that report you needed. I don't think it's gonna be a feasible idea. The numbers just don't line up. Yeah, I know this is an important account. Ok, I'll see what I can do. Yeah, just give me a little time to iron it out. Yeah, no problem. Hey, you been watching the Olympics? Man, those people are amazing! I can't believe it! That Michael Phelps, eight gold medals, that's a shitload. I'd be happy with just one. So, you must be pretty excited about the whole thing. Well you know, it taking place in Beijing and all. Really highlights your culture! Well, I mean that having the Olympics in China really shows the world how far your people have come. I was watching this History Channel special the other day about China, about how long it cut itself off from the rest of the world and how only Ping-Pong brought the world into the Forbidden City. Man, you must be GREAT at Ping-Pong. Yeah, we should play some time! My brother would barely believe it if I told him I beat a Chinese guy at Ping-Pong. You guys totally stole all the medals in that sport. Oh, excuse me, table tennis. That's awfully pretentious. It's Ping-Pong, dammit. Did you ever hear that joke about the two Chinese guys named Ping and Pong? Guess what sport they invented. Tennis! Ha ha, yeah. No, I don't think that's necessarily racist. Now I bet you've got all sorts of relatives named Ping and Pong! Wait a second, American names don't have base or ball in them. What are you implying? That's right. Look, I'm just commenting on your Chinese heritage. I'm sure you're proud of it. No, seriously. I really am saying you should be proud of what your people are proud of, hell, I'm proud of Stonehenge! That's my Scottish side coming out. Whoa, all of them? Oh, I guess they must have left at least one person, or else you wouldn't be here. Yeah, I guess the Chinese occupation of Manchuria must have been hard on you. Speaking of occupations, did you ever see that movie "Braveheart?" It's awesome, reminds me of my family's struggles. You guys have a movie like that? So all of the Koreans were subjugated and some were slaughtered? Guess that wouldn't make for that great of an ending…
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Yes, I wrote another book. "Another?" You say. Surely you have heard of me? I have written several articles for the Atlantic Monthly, and have had multiple book reviews featured in The New Yorker. Aren't you a connoisseur of fine literary magazines, many of which I have been submitting short stories to for many years? No? My stories are highly recognizable: those which deal most piercingly with loss, death and the redemptive qualities of sweet revenge. Before you say another word, I will say, yes, that these seem to be rather pedestrian subjects for an intellect so obviously well-tutored as my own. Let me just say that had you ever indulged in one of these stories, you would clearly see how I manage to display the inner-workings of any of my subjects in the most incisive way possible. I give details where they are needed, furthermore, I close off my subjects so as to allow you, my faithful reader, the chance to inject your own experiences into my stories. Yes, I know you have yet to read anything of mine, but you shall! And once you do, there is not a single doubt in my mind that you are to become a faithful reader of mine! What's that? No, no, no. You cannot COUNT your fans in numbers, or your success in money, rather in the impact which you unleash upon a people needing a jolt! If only publishers understood the real yardstick of success! These half-breed troglodytes are forever surprised that another young writer has killed their self after another rejection letter, only to find that that young writer's unfinished work was the next Great American Novel. It's true! Have you read A Confederacy of Dunces? Brilliant! As an unfinished novel, most ambitious! What a charming story! Oh, yes, you have read it? No, no, it was not finished. Are you serious? My publisher must have wrangled me an early copy prior to its editing! Yes, that must be it. Of course. Ha ha! This reminds me, in a most profound way, of the journey of the protagonist of my latest novel! For you see, young Antawn Johnson was always told he would be nothing but a lowly janitor. But then, by the grace of his beautiful young English teacher, a woman drawn to urban life out of her own childhood's suburban trappings, Antawn learns the value of great literature. What does he become? Oh, a spoken-word poet who dabbles in music, of course! I can relate so strongly to this character, well, the English teacher, I mean. As an idealistic young man fresh out of the University of Pennsylvania, I ventured into the city of Philadelphia to impact those communities! And impact, I did! In fact, had the uneducated swine of a principal at the high school not fired me for my so-called "offensive" and "alienating" teaching methods, those children would have had no choice but to succeed. I love rap and hip-hop, I listen to the Roots and Mos Def most every day. They are my education of the streets, something I could bring to those students! An outside perspective! But I suppose, in this hyper-sensitive, politically correct, good self-esteem world, there is no more room for the upper class white man. Now I know why my books have yet to be published!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I will fight you. Yeah, you! Come over here! Too much of a pussy, huh? Yeah, that's what I thought! Man, what a great game! I never thought we were gonna pull it out, but then, shit, just like prom night! Fuck! That pass! Damn! Man, he was streaking on the sidelines, and POW! In his gloves like a rocket! Ran with it like he motherfucking stole it! Ooowee! I couldn't believe it! Just sitting there, drinking my beer, and then whoa shit! Game over! Did you see that little pussy bawling over there? Ruined his trip that's for sure! Make you grow up real fast! Oh Jesus, nothing makes me happier than a grown-man's game making a little boy cry! What a bitch! Ha ha! But shit, our coach needs to quit fuckin' around! Fuck! That shit he called at the end of the game, motherfuck! I ain't never seen shit like that! Man, our guards can't protect nobody, can't even protect themselves. And they're supposed to make our guy safe? Bullshit! Man, if I was in there, I would say, "All pass, all the time! Don't nobody say otherwise! We gonna KILL these cocksuckers!" I mean, look, did you see the end? When we fucked over those cocksuckers with our motherfuckin' air attack, shit went down! Game over! And then, going for two to seal the deal? That was motherfuckin… What? What the fuck you say? Your little bitch team got shit! You got shit! Your whole motherfucking city got shit! That's right, asshole! Shit! Get the fuck out of here before I pull out my bat and make you wish you never fuckin' left your piece of shit house! Get back! Fuck off! Damn. Linda, you think I could've taken him? I think so. His little pussy arms. No, don't remind me. I know I got a bad back. Fuck! Linda! I know! Worker's comp is paying for the accident! Why do we have to bring money into this shit? I just won twenty bucks! Drinks on me, assholes! Where do you all want to go? Nah, fuck that place. Too many assholes, it's like a fuckin' watering hole for douchebags. Are you a douchebag? Yeah, you are, but can't say it? Where else? Yeah, I feel you. Titties for shit! Oh, Linda, shut up! We gonna go look at some titties, then we can uncork your titties all up in my face, then I can uncork in YOUR face! Fuck yeah! What? You don't want to go? What is this shit? Man, I work hard all fuckin' week to put clothes on my back and food in your fat ass! Oww! The fuck you slap me for? I work hard, I wear jeans! Every day! Get back here! Fuck, let her go. Shit. Well, Jim, let's go get us some pussy. I need some pussy after that shit. Game got me a motherfuckin' hard-on! No, that shit's not gay, that shit's for real! Yeah! Shit… You think she's coming back? Man, I fucked up, man. No, I know. I just, I get so fucking EXCITED after the game, I just… Fuck. Man, do you think I should call her? Yeah, you're right, get pussy first, get my rocks off, I'll be ready for fucking anything. That's what a man is! Fuck yeah! Ah shit. Man, let's just go home. I'm done here.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
There are many words for this feeling: love, lust, longing. There are also many words for this which do not begin with "L" but I have only a limited time to talk to you today, and cannot log the emotions I feel alphabetically. I look deep into my heart and remove the stone which makes it so heavy. So heavy! I wonder if God has made this stone. Could he lift it? Could I? I removed it, but how? Was there no one here to listen to me, listen to my cries of shame? I rest my loins, they have grown heavy with the toll of human life, with the extreme patience required to live an astounding 19 and a half years on this planet. I am a fuck-up. I sit around, pulling on my cock day in and day out. There are things that I will try, things that others can't even pronounce, yet I have done them to my own body! I sat under a broad tree yesterday, imagining the spread, fragrant space between my lab partner's legs. She sits there, never explicitly noticing me. Yet I know she is explicitly longing for me, as I do her. I would love to do her. My friends tell me it's all in my head, but I am acutely aware of how my staggering knowledge of steel and its properties makes her pussy all wet. I can almost feel it! Taste it! The damp taste of pubic hair and lady juice! Oh how I long to bury my face in between those legs of hers. I know she looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Her single, burning, blue eye (blue! like the sky!) pierces my soul to the core. The velocity of her stinging stare exceeds mathematical limits! She has achieved light speed! My throbbing cock, waiting for her mouth, allows itself to grow larger (and more embarrassing) the longer she feigns ignorance of my presence. This next class, I know, she will wait for me after class and lead me to the women's room, empty save for her heavy breathing, and remove my greatest sin: the stain of virginity! I will roll for initiative, if only in my mind, to take control of her body and make her mine! That cunt of hers, so beautiful! (I heard this word, cunt, on the forums the other day. Sounded cool!) What a wonderful piece of intelligently designed flesh! I shall make her mine! My horde of peers, (shall I say, "Horde?") will be ultimately jealous! Through her blissful cover of late-onset acne and early-onset diabetes, I see a princess waiting to be saved! She is not in another castle, she is here! If only she would look past my own physique, scarred by years of neglect and C++! If only! I love you, dear swan, dear lady! Amin mela lle! (I have recently taken up Elvish, and hope to read The Lord of the Rings in its native tongue.) Speak to me, and not only of the stress of steel beams! Perhaps the stress of being star-crossed lovers! Perhaps of being so perfect to another that it is impossibly sure! Impossible never seemed so possible! The strongest shape is not the triangle, it is two people! Come here! I will see you in only a few short minutes, then we shall never part! I will rub your shoulders as you calculate, massage your feet during programming, kiss you as you chew on your eraser! If only I could diagram my heart, but alas, it is measured in English, not metric! There are no SI units for love! Let us create our own units of measurement, measurably only by us two, known to only us! There is no ambition greater than this! We shall succeed! FREEDOM!!!!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Good evening, brothers and sisters. We gather here today to remember what we stand for: that are things worth standing up for! That there are things which we should fight for! That there are things to Kill, to die for! You, brother, there in the front, what is your name? Jimmy? And how old are you son? Thirteen? Still going by Jimmy, eh? Well tell me something, brother Jimmy. As a young man who has a clear sense of purpose in this world, where do you see yourself fighting to keep these self-evident truths alive? Ha ha! Let's all hope it never comes to that! Jimmy, you're a fine young example for the rest of the young men here. That's right! Young men of the congregation! Listen up! There are things you must know about this world, things you must know to properly defend what has been given to you. The land upon which you tread has been consecrated by the blood of Christ, has been consecrated by the blood of heroes! Are you willing to stand up and be a hero! Stand up! You! You are standing up! Come here! What do you think you are doing, standing there? Do you think you are ready to be a hero? A terrorist stands over your head, blade in hand, ready to do you in, in a way far more savage than what you have ever seen on your television, on your internet, in your imagination! This terrorist is more than just a man of flesh and blood. He is a terrorist of spirit, of deception, of death itself! Yes, you all know of whom I am speaking! The devil himself, Beelzebub, the Antichrist! The terrorists are fueled with the fire of the devil! Now, young man, come here, you who are so bold as to stand ready in church before all your peers, family and friends, and proclaim your willingness to be a soldier in the name of the Lord! Stand proud and march yourself straight up here! Now, tell me, are you ready? No, shout it! Are you ready? Shout it louder! Tell the congregation you are ready! Tell your mother! Tell your father! Tell your friend in the front row who is more concerned with that girl sitting across from him than the earthly incarnation of the greatest battle the earth has ever known! The battle of good and evil! Tell them! Now, son, which side are you on? Yes, yes, yes. Stand up! You! Are you ready? Anyone else? Stand up and be counted! It is time to tell your family what time has come! Are you a man? Are you a man? Or, are you a mouse? Do you cower in the holes of the walls of your America, an America which has been built by the greatest architect of all, Liberty herself? Or, do you walk outside of the front gates, ready to do battle? Stand up! I want to hear what you have said! Louder! Everyone! Turn away the devil, turn away your iniquities! Turn into what the Lord Jesus Christ has always wanted you to be: the greatest man who has ever been pushed out of his mother onto this green planet to defend all that is right and good! I want to see, by a show of hands, those here who consider themselves Christians. Now, don't answer yet! Look deep inside yourselves. This is the most important questions anyone has ever asked of you. Look deep! What have you found? A well of love, hope and understanding which surpasses all human reckoning? Have you found a bottomless pit of sin and death? If you have that beautiful well, raise your hand! Raise it proudly! Look at this boy here, the courageous boy, the one who has the strength to stand in front of you, prepared! Look! He has the strength and the love of the Lord! Both! What have you? What say you? Is there no other person here strong enough to proclaim what is within themselves? Yes! I can hear you brother! Say it again! Yes! That's right! Speak that truth! Now, what of the rest of you? Is there anyone who would like their pit of sin to be filled by a well of love eternal? Who is brave enough to admit that they are lost and need the love of Christ? Who is brave? Anyone? Bravery! Let it shine through your very person! This is now the time in which we sing. Old sweet Lorraine, lead us into one of your beautiful hymns! Have the words of the saints bear us home! As your teacher, friend, and guide, I assure you that I am prepared to send your sons to war, prepared to send them home in body bags! Let us see the devil procure their souls from within the gates of Heaven! I am prepared to send every last one of not only your sons, but your daughters as well, to the very gates of Saint Peter! Perhaps the time has come to sever the bonds of family, the bonds of friendship. Sever those bonds, friends, there will be time for friendship when His Kingdom comes. There will be time! Do not let the terrorists claim the lives of your children! Allow the Lord to take your children in his own time. Perhaps that time is now! We shall lay hands on the children to pray for their souls, after the hymn of course, and ask the Lord for guidance. Now, to singing!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Today I would like to discover the probabilities of many different things pertaining to the common man. There are a surprising range of issues with which the everyday person grapples, and it is often astounding to learn of the degree which economic tools and models can be used to make inferences about a person's potential actions. With this in mind, I have charted out the drinking habits of a young man a know by the name of Sean. Sean tells me that he drinks an average of 3.6 drinks every night in which he drinks more than one. (I have removed those nights as outliers, and not as drinking nights.) Sean also chooses to indulge in a game of beer pong 40% of the nights in which he drinks. Beer pong causes Sean to drink an average of 1.3 more drinks. Now, whether or not he plays beer pong or not, Sean drinks about 1 and a half drinks around his average. (This is a cleverly disguised standard deviation). Here comes the problem: Sean becomes drunk, passes out and has sex with a less-than-STD-free girl if he has 6 or more drinks. Therefore, what are his chances of doing this? Let's find out!
With much statistical acumen, Sean will get drunk about 14% of his drinking nights. Here comes a little more guessing. If Sean drinks twice a week (on average) for all six years of college (yeah, some people take more than four!), he will be drunk about 86 times in college, which translates to about 4% of all nights in college. This leaves Sean with 86 chances to get laid by some chick he will horribly regret in the morning. If you knew Sean, you would know that he gets laid about 20% of the time, so that's 17 girls. Pretty successful. Based on real scientific data, about 10% of women have some kind of STD. Therefore, Sean will come into intimate contact with around 1 or 2 STDs. Ouch. As Sean reaches his graduation date, he will not only have a degree, but a severe case of gonorrhea! I just learned that you can catch gonorrhea of the throat. No amount of vomiting into my own mouth will allow me to forget that shit. Well, good night and good luck. (You're gonna need it!)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Prejudice is a feeling we are taught to suppress from a young age. We learn that it's not OK to make passing judgments about other people simply because of how they look. Different people are all blessed with their own unique talents, minds, and passions. And, simply because a person belongs to a certain group, it does not mean that they hold the same values as other people who also look or act like them. Of course, it doesn't mean I can't make fun of the people who fit into my favorite prejudices. I now present to you my prejudices, albeit a small sampling of them, in no particular order.
People with Extraordinary Underbites:
The inspiration for this piece. In case you're curious, these are people whose bottom jaws jut out further than their top jaw. (As a side note, I actually have no problem with most people like this. In fact, this bit is directly pointed at one individual whose presence I am required to tolerate, even if it is a scant few hours a week, despite the smoldering disgust I experience in his presence. I believe that the Internet has far too much generalized hate, here's some explicitly targeted hate, cleverly disguised as general hate. So now, I continue.) These people always look like they're chewing something, which makes them look like cows. In my experience, they are usually chewing tobacoo, gum, or cud. In case, you're curious, cud is the substance which cows and People with Extraordinary Underbites (PwEUs) have digested and thrown back up into their mouths to further break down so that their other stomachs can break down the food more completely. Perhaps this is an evolutionary advantage of the PwEUs, since they can feast on hay and grass when the rest of the human race has exhausted or resource of cows, pigs, horses, and other meats we can consume. With this chewing motion, they tend to talk by only moving the bottom half of their mouth. The average human utilizes their entire mouth to form syllables, noises, and the shape necessary This distorts their speech. If you've seen the movie "Sling Blade," you know what I mean. I personally know that Billy Bob Thornton did not have to affect an accent at all for the movie, he just had his jaw surgically shoved out further. I also personally know that he gives thanks to Jesus every day because "Sling Blade" made enough money that he could have his jaw put back into place. (He thanks Jesus by not having sex with Angelina Jolie anymore. Apparently she wasn't hot enough for him. What the fuck?? Who is he waiting for? I'm sorry, Billy Bob, but Angelina is about as unbe-fucking-lievably hot as they come.)
People Who Don't Swing Their Arms While Walking:
What is wrong with these people? Have they ever watched another person walk? I mean, seriously, even monkeys, apes and chimpanzees figured this one out. And they throw their shit at each other for fun! (And not just in a bizarre Internet sex video way, they do it even if they aren't being videotaped to be sold on the Internet for $15 a pop.) Beyond this, I hate to recycle tired Seinfeld jokes, so I'll leave it at monkey poop.
People Who Remark that Every Event in Their Life is "Random":
Fuck these people. I had to listen to a conversation on the bus yesterday between a guy and his "bro" commenting how unbelievably "random" their day was. (Wait, the teacher was five minutes late? Holy shit! Random!) To these people, any daily event that is halfway humorous is somehow "random." Yeah, it's different than what you expected, throwing in a "that was totally random" doesn't make the story any better. In fact, I'm telling you that your inane need to hold on to this word as your one descriptor of daily life makes me want to do something really random: buy a nail gun. I don't want to kill them, I just want to staple them to a wall. And then, in a truly random moment, cover them in fish guts and take them out to sea to be attacked by sharks. How many people die by shark attack each year? About 25*. (*Research not guaranteed to be accurate.) How many people are late to things they should not be late to every year? About 6 fucking billion. So therefore, if you want to experience a truly random event that will make your friends envious, let me nail you to a board, cover you with fish guts, and let you get eaten by a Great White in the middle of the Pacific. You'll thank me later.
In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing wasn't a lot of fun. Jesus said, "God, it sucks here in Nothing." So God did what he always did: told Jesus to get off his ass and do something about it. So Jesus invented the Earth. Unfortunately, the first Earth wasn't all that great, so God pushed it over, re-named it Mars, and let His Son have another try. Under His dutiful Eye, Jesus created the Earth we know today. Take that, Big Bang theory.
Now we have the Earth. Over time, people came to inherit the Earth. The only thing was God had to die first, so Jesus killed him. Which brings us to San Luis Obispo. Before people inherited the Earth, dinosaurs were also vying for the inheritance. The final decisive blow was struck on the site of the Mustang Statue, which commemorates man's innovative use of horses to defeat the marauding velociraptors.
Nothing happened in San Luis Obispo for thousands, even millions of years.
Jesus was pissed at Nothing's return.
At the beginning of the 20th century, President Theodore Roosevelt began a movement of higher education to combat the growing evil of Earth's bastard cousin Mars. Though that evil turned out to simply be the Germans, many universities were founded that operate to this day. One of these universities was the San Luis Obispo Institute of Technology and Spacecraft. The region's rich agricultural surroundings allowed the Institute to develop a form of agriculture that could sustain life in various climates, even those harsher than experienced on Earth. This research is directly responsible for the success of the Moon cities of the 1930s. It was at this time that the Institute was forcibly taken over by a cabal of suffragettes who saw agricultural technology as the future of the United States and sought to mold the finest minds into agricultural geniuses. (Hence the new university motto: "Ic semper yerflek" meaning "To the future – crops"). The suffragettes allowed only men to attend the Institute at this point, due to the fact that they believed "The gentler sex is not suited for such work, we focus instead on world leadership." This cabal was not overthrown until 1959 when a team led by Julian McPhee dismantled the Institute's leadership through subterfuge and a careful application of guile. With the suffragettes out, both men and women were now allowed to receive an education at the newly renamed California State Polytechnic University for the Deaf. (The last part is generally omitted, as the University stopped exclusively accepting deaf students in 1973.) John Madden's inability to control the volume of his voice is not due to rampant syphilis, as many have surmised, but due to a rare form of hearing loss that does not allow him to hear the sound of his own voice. Please don't make fun of him, it's not nice to make fun of deaf people.
The final decades of the 20th century were marked by a drastic increase in the amount of scientific research conducted at the University. As a result, San Luis Obispo is not only known for mankind's greatest victory over the dinosaurs, but also the moment where that victory was nearly undone. A certain Dr. Cano extracted dinosaur DNA from the many fossils littering the San Luis Obispo area, remnants of the battle that had occurred so long ago. Using the DNA, Cano was able to successfully create a litter of baby dinosaurs much to the horror of the federal government. Fearing the coming of a new threat to human dominance the government scheduled the dinosaurs for termination. However, Bethany Johnson, a student whose affection for the doctor was long spurned, stole several of the infant dinosaurs and made her way to a secret island in the Caribbean hoping to fulfill Cano's greatest dream and perhaps win his love for good. Though as the evidence from the documentary film "Jurassic Park" suggests Ms. Johnson's aspirations were horribly misguided and resulted in an international tragedy that led the world the closest to the brink of world war since the launch of the solar-powered nuclear submarines off the coast of Manchuria in the summer of 1969.
One can only surmise as to what the future holds for Cal Poly. Current University President Warren Baker's extended tenure has led many to assume that Cal Poly scientists have nearly perfected a method of life extension. Whatever it is, some believe that President Baker is committed to staying in office until the University's research actually does push the world into an earth-shattering conflict. More conservative observers of our region's history believe he is just waiting for a low-cost high-quality burrito to be made natively in the town.
Breakfast foods encompass a wide variety of food genres all summating to one startling truth: the time of day vastly affects how we eat. At night, it's OK to eat steak (unless you're in the South (steak and eggs)) and drink beer (unless you're from the South or in college (kegs and eggs)). These things are generally not OK in general society, in general. The Roman emperor Nero was one of the first people to differentiate between breakfast and later foods. His first decree, in fact, claimed that "the eggs of IV chickens shall be saved for each eating time before the house of Jupiter (the Sun (added by author)) rises fully in the sky." Long story short, eat eggs in the morning, not later. Nero also killed Christians with lions, a practice that has been more or less fully eradicated from our global community. Certain meats, you may have noticed, are certainly applicable to only certain meal periods. The aforementioned steak is mostly dinner appropriate. Hamburgers are a lunch staple. Sausage is a favorite amongst breakfast eaters. It seems, then, that meats are classified according to their level of grinding. Inversely. The more finely ground, the earlier the meat is eaten. I suppose then that a meat drink would be a fine 3am drink. I now understand why Australians eat Vegemite, which is, of course, as you may know, a euphemism for "meat jelly." They use it mostly on toast, prior to breakfast, in anticipation of koala sausage. Let's move on to breakfast drinks. Here's another relationship, this time direct instead of inverse. The fresher the fruit in the juice, the earlier the juice is drank. Examples: orange juice in the morning, Sunny D (I totally still drink this) for lunch, and wine for dinner. Furthermore, what makes it acceptable to drink alcohol in the morning? Mimosas! A little bit of breakfast-approved orange juice makes a copious amount of champagne completely valid for pre-8am consumption. Ah, the magic of fresh fruit.
P.S. I drew a graph to help you understand my point.