Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Stuff That Will Kill You: A Pictorial


Look, I don't care what you do with your life. It's yours, after all... you're in the drivers seat of that particular big rig and whatever metaphorical highway you choose to drive down, horn blasting, cargo hold full of memories and baggage and experience and boxes of books, doesn't really affect me any. But think about this: Kissing someone who smokes all the time? Gross. The old saw is that it's "like kissing an ashtray," but I'll go further than that (as that is how I roll). Laying a sloppy, deep-tongue soul kiss on a pack-a-day smoker is like jamming your head into one of those bubbling tar cauldrons you see construction workers using on extensive roofing jobs CROSSED with a nasty headbutt from all the pollution in the downtown Los Angeles area that a mad scientist has made into human form so it can, I don't know, help him rob banks or something. Smoking is gross, in other words, and it makes your lungs look like beef jerky roadkill on a sun-baked highway outside Nevada. But hey, it's not like I'm one to judge... with my drinking habits, my liver probably looks like a dead man's loofah or the surface of the moon after a big rock festival or a bombed-out building in Beirut that used to be a school but is now just a pile of sadness rubble.


Granted, these are easy to avoid. Unless you spend a lot of time hanging out in the ocean being all delicious with your meaty thighs and KC Masterpiece flavored sunblock; seriously, you KNOW you're going to be swimming in shark infested waters... why would you buy that??? But, yeah... sharks. Crazy eating machines with nine million teeth and they're invincible and some have bazookas, I think, although to be honest I'm not as up on what sharks are all about as you would think a guy who runs a blog with "shark" in the title would be. They're from outer space, right? The aliens landed and these were their pets and this one little alien thought his had died so he flushed it but it WASN'T DEAD and now there's tons of sharks everywhere and they'll bite your face off, give 'em half a chance. Which you won't, because who needs to go outside and swim in the beautiful ocean when it's much easier to just chill on the couch with some Cheez-Its and a stack of DVDs. Because DVDs won't rip your arms off as part of a gang initiation. And sharks will TOTALLY do that.

Psycho Killers

This picture's a little deceiving because Manson didn't actually do any of the killings... he commanded his family of devotees and hangers-on and Squeeky Frommes to do them for him in benifit of his own sick, twisted pleasure... but whatevs. A psycho is a psycho is a psycho, no matter his actual, physical involvement in messing up Sharon Tate real bad with a kitchen knife. ANYWAY, the thing about your average psycho killer is just that... they're average. By that, I mean they don't necessarily LOOK like a psycho killer. They generally look like you or me, just average dudes or dudettes who go to shows and cook pastas and enjoy a nice glass of beer every now and again. So normal, you think, and then suddenly you're locked in a cage in their basement and you can't find one of your hands and they're advancing on you with a one of those electric knives that lazy people use to carve turkeys and they're laughing and laughing and LAUGHING AND LAUGHING. Bad scene, man. But, like, don't worry because it's probably fine. Your boyfriend or girlfriend probably isn't a psycho killer. I mean what are the odds, right? Although... how much do you REALLY know about the person sleeping next to you? Where do they go at night? Why do they collect hammers? Ah, it's probably nothing.

Nuclear War

Kaboom! Ha! Yeah, you're dead and everything but DAMN, what a way to go! All dramatic fire and loud noise and the whole world watching in terror. Pretty sweet, when you get right down to it... again, besides the whole vaporized into another dimension thing. The real suck of nuclear war, though, is SURVIVING an atom bomb blast. Like, being just outside the blast radius so you escape the actual event, but then you get a heavy dusting of radiation like so much powder sugar on a souffle but in this case the souffle is you and the powdered sugar gives you cancer in every part of your body and your skin melts off and your eyes turn into smashed Cadbury Eggs. Not pretty, for sure, and probably painful too. So I guess what I'm saying is if you're in an area that's about to get a fly-over from the Enola Gay, by all means run TOWARDS the high-pitched whistle and looming, growing shadow. Might as well get it over with, ya know?



And then your heart bursts out of your chest like an ejecting fighter pilot and your brain turns to butterscotch pudding and the rest of your organs run around and switch places with each other like schoolkids playing a prank on the substitute and all your blood evaporates like pond water in a drought and the kitten...? He just walks away, all evil, to kill again.


Blogger The Unbearable Banishment said...

Here’s one for you: finding out that someone you are deeply in love with is fucking someone else. That’ll kill you pretty darn quick. Not that it fits in with your pictorial theme. Nor would I have any first-hand experience about something like that. I’m just saying…

9:59 AM  
Blogger Todd said...

Shark week starts on Sunday! (I don't trust the Discovery Channel though, they never mention the shark bazookas.)

10:15 AM  
Blogger Ross said...

I'm glad you included kittens. They are nasty creatures wanting to eat your soul. I have one glaring at me from the couch right now.


10:46 AM  
Blogger Clinton said...

Banishment... That certainly would kill you quick, at least in the metaphorical sense. And are we not all just metaphors for love and life floating around, waiting to be fucked over by other, hotter metaphors that we met in a bar one night doing tequila shots, which should have been our FIRST clue that she was trouble.

Todd... They're being suppressed by the goverment because the government wants to use the bazooka sharks to fight our wars. But the bazooka sharks don't WANT to fight our wars because, doye, they'd die out in the desert because there's no ocean. Unless you count THE OCEAN OF BLOOD. Which you don't because it's not the same.

Ross... RUN!!! Don't look back, dude, just douse the place in gasoline and drop a match and hightail it to Canada and live under an assumed name while working in a co-op. Or, instead of that, GIVE HIM SNUZZLES!!!

10:55 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

I bet that guy in the first picture is fun to go to parties with.

That is, assuming he's still alive.

11:28 AM  
Blogger Nicole said...

I'm fascinated by sharks, but also terrified.

11:32 AM  
Blogger Clinton said...

Surviving... He WAS awesome at parties. Sadly, his entire body turned into a Lucky Strike and was smoked by a homeless guy. His ashes were placed in a hard pack and called "a shame."

Brooklyn... They feel the same way about you.

12:23 PM  
Blogger Liöüx said...





1:25 PM  
Blogger Big Daddy said...


Butterscotch pudding.

2:05 PM  
Blogger Subway Gal said...

Oh yes, kittens are the worst. I have two of my own and they get away with stuff that I don't even let my boyfriend get away with, like climbing on ALL the furniture and anything else they can climb up (like on top of the cabinets) and getting extra snacks because they start staring at me with their big sad eyes and meowing if I make myself something to eat and don't share with them. Damn those kitties and their manipulative ways!!

2:10 PM  
Blogger Clinton said...

Lioux... Because of the Devil, dude. Obviously.

Big Daddy... I know, right? I could eat like a suitcase full of it.

Subway... Um, why don't you let your boyfriend climb up on top of the cabinets? Maybe he would like it up there. Meanie.

2:57 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That kitten is high.

3:54 PM  
Blogger AndSheWas said...

The psycho killer example is what most frightens me. My biggest fear is that I will bend my head down to wash my face in the bathroom sink, then as I come up and wipe the water from my eyes, I will see the reflection of a man in the bathroom mirror with a rope or knife in his claws. I have got to start keeping a gun in the medicine cabinet.

4:03 PM  
Blogger LSL said...

AWESOMENESS! Complete kitten awesomeness.

9:16 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

9:48 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Smoking? Yeah, your boned.

Sharks? It's shark week man! Learn up on how not to die.

Psycho Killers? Just be the moralistic prude who espoused Right Wing Christian morals in your daily life. Worked in Friday the 13th and Nightmare.

Nuclear War? Just pray you become an X-Man.... awwww yeah!

Kittens? Doomed. Doomed I tells ya.

9:50 AM  
Blogger Antler Knives said...

Kittens with adorableness, good one! Knives for sale maybe?

12:12 PM  

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