Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Young girls they do get weary

Send all complaint letters to sexmahoney@gmail.com.



Life is so much busier these days.

Once upon a time (and I say that because that’s how most fairy tales start) people lived in a land of milk and honey where nothing bad ever happened, men were men, women were women, and no one ever tried to molest your children… because they didn’t have to try, you most likely sold your children to them for the express purpose of molestation.


It’s always good to start with a pedophile joke, because 1) everything you say after that won’t sound as bad and B) you want people to know that you’re willing to put a child into harm’s way if it means getting a laugh… they’ll take you seriously after that.

Parentally condoned pederasty aside, I want to talk about the good ole days, because I once was a fiction writer, and just because I haven’t written fiction in a long time doesn’t mean I can’t do it again.

Remember when you were a child and life was simpler? The music sounded better, the food tasted like deity semen, everyone stayed married, and there was no crime. Life was perfect in the past.

See, I can still write fiction.

All you have to do is lie through your teeth, which is harder than it sounds because teeth are pretty dense. To make lying through them easier, drill a few lie holes in your central incisors.

If you go back thousands of years, to Hammurabi’s code, one of the first codified legal systems in known history, there are specific punishments listed for the crimes of murder, rape, and murder-rape (which is where you kill them first and rape them second, not like that pussy kind of rape-murder). That there were punishments listed for the crimes means two things… well, really just one thing said in two different ways… people committed those crimes, because otherwise there would be no need for a code, and the code did absolutely nothing to stop to them.

I know that we hairless apes like to suck our own dicks over how we can communicate with written language to the point that we believe our writing something down is enough to make it important or prevent it from happening, but as your undelivered high school poetry about the hotty sitting in front of you during 6th period Biology and the federal law against going underpantsless on Flag Day clearly prove, that’s not the case.

Once we write down a social restriction, thereby making it illegal, we humans fall into two camps: one that says we need to institute a tougher punishment, and one that says we need to address the root cause of the crime.

As usual, they’re both completely idiotic.

Modern human beings who believe that the world is going to hell in a hand basket because we coddle criminals seem to forget that murder rates are much lower now than they were in the days when punishment meant a six hour enema with a red hot poker. One early American punishment involved a person spending a whole day, from dawn to dusk, digging as big a hole as they could and then being locked in said hole with a bucket for meals, toilet, and water. It’s no wonder that those people saw witches.

The people who think that fixing the root cause of crime will solve the problem forget that the root cause is us, human beings, and, after eight thousand years of civilization we’ve been able to do all kinds of amazing things, but not fix ourselves. One of the only proofs for the existence of a deity which I value is that only an intelligent designer would be able to build such a complex machine that can do everything but its own maintenance; hell, we can’t even make a pair of underwear that doesn’t leave elastic marks on your skin after a whole day’s usage. I only hope that someday humans befriend a race of alien doctors and that they’re not Scientologists.

As long as there are human beings, we’re going to have crime and not just the fun crimes like breaking and stealing physical objects, but little, small crimes like your ugly children and the way the bathroom smells after John McCain’s been in there (I don’t care what your political affiliation, but that fucker is old, we all have, or had, grandparents and we all know the olfactory punishment they can inflict on a WC).

People long ago decided they like crime, and they want more of it, but, like the pansies they are, they had to invent ways to indulge their criminal behavior that were both socially acceptable and just as gratifying.

The ancient Akkadians had a virtual crime simulator where you paid a flat rate so you could go into a fake bazaar, steal anything you wanted, and even stab a few imperial slaves, but mothers protested that it was making their children too violent.

Instead, the human race invented politics and war, the two places where criminals of all shapes and sizes could get in on the action and indulge all of their sadistic fantasies without fear of reprisal… for the winner. If you lose a war, then fuck you, you’re a monster and you deserve to hang for your crimes.

War is the one time when a politician can keep people distracted, by sending their children to die for imaginary things like freedom, liberty, and god, long enough to win reelection and guarantee another few years of stealing, cheating, and general monkeyshines.

For a soldier, a war is a chance to kill people and use the slaughter as a cover to dust off their old high school love poems to the hotty from 6th period English and pass them off as something meaningful… from the front lines.

Throughout all of this, we’re still just broken down machines stumbling around the face of a planet that will one day kill us and doing our best to help forget that fact that we’ve only got about twenty to forty good years in us before it all goes downhill. Either way, we humans are our only worthy enemies, and, while I once thought that the human race had given up its self-destructive tendencies, eight years of George W Bush has shown me that we’re right on track to remain the most interesting and destructive species that the Earth has ever known.

I only hope that things fall apart in my lifetime, because I’m sure that armageddon will make for some damn fine television, and I don’t want some punk conservative from the 22nd century using my time period as an example of the good old days.

Sex Mahoney for President


Currently listening to:

Complete & Unbelievable: The Otis Redding Dictionary of Soul
by Otis Redding

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