Myths and Legends: Not Fucking True

One of the things you probably don't know about your ol' pal C-dog is that one moonless, cold night, he killed a hobo with his bare hands because he though the hobo was the kind of hobo that grants wishes, but you have to stab the wishes out of their greasy chests with a rusty piece of jagged metal broken off an abandoned shopping cart.

Of course, as it turns out, those kind of hobos don't actually exist. And I can never go back to Detroit because of certain "warrants." But the point is, killing that poor, sick homeless man in cold blood really awoke my interest in the supernatural. Wait... not the supernatural... because that's like ghosts and demons and bullshit like that... no, I mean that it awoke deep within me an interest in whatever you call unicorns (like the attractively gay picture up there) and leprechauns and whatever.

Folklore! That's what you call it. Or something... I don't really remember words and what they mean so much anymore. Switching from booze to straight lighter fluid sucked out of broken Zippos down at the flea market was a BAD idea. I think I have ass cancer.

Anyway, I've been working night and day compiling all my research into folklore and myths and legends into one handy blog post that... if you want... you can read right now. Um... here it is. When I wrote this, I was naked. God, this lighter fluid is so fucking tasty it's like vomit from angels:

Myths and Legends: Not Fucking True

Also, Folklore is Bullshit

This is Bolded and Underlined for No Reason Other Than the Fact That I Can, So Suck on THAT!

Unicorns - Might as well start with unicorns, seeing as how 13 year old girls beat off to them and we need to nip that shit in the bud immediately so they can focus their psycho hormonal energy on romantic mummies or whatever happens to be the goth teen literature rage du jour these days. Anyway, unicorns... turns out they're just horses with serious bone disorders. Yeah. It makes them have these knobby tumors that burst out of their heads. If you see a "unicorn," really you're just looking at a horse that's about to die a horribly painful death due to fucked up genetics. If you have a gun, shooting it would be the humane thing to do. Just know that you're not shooting a "unicorn" in the face. You're putting it out of it's misery. They CAN fly, though... no one knows what's up with that.

Paul Bunyan - It's funny how a creepy lumberjack that fucked his ox can, over time, become this whole big thing about a giant woodsman who created America, or whatever it is. But that's the magic of oral storytelling, I guess. But yeah, he totally fucked that ox. A lot. And it was a guy ox.

American Indians - A proud people that, today, operate some fine casinos. But the thing is, a lot of sad folks who need a reason for their turquoise jewelry think that Indians possess some kind of mystical mojo that will let them take spirit walks with the buffalo and finger a noble eagle or some shit. It's not true. Most Indians are pretty cool to hang out with, though. Usually they live in trailers on protected land and they can sell you smokes at cost. They have pretty funny stories about Government oppression, too. Oh, and they all make their own jerky AND they like to share. Can't beat that.

The Jersey Devils - Not actually a legend; they are a hockey team.

Fairies - They don't exist AT ALL. Some random guy came up with the idea because he thought it would help sell a lot of cheesy, illustrated t-shirts to fat girls and, hey, the dude was right. Incidentally, he's also the same guy that came up with the "wolf standing before the American flag" shirts that are so popular with the NASCAR/Coors Light/Can't-so-much-read set. Anyway, fairies are just marketing. And, occasionally, they make starring roles in the worst tattoos you've ever seen, usually displayed on pale shoulders meaty enough to be considered "a herd of cattle." In other words, fairies are stupid and I hate them. Lousy fat fairy-worshipers rejecting my advances... how do THEY know I'm not a Warlock...

The Maid of the Mist - She's just a pot dealer's girlfriend that lives under a waterfall. Seriously not worth the attention, especially when you consider how much bullshit she has on her keychain.

Bigfoot - Just a hairy guy named Duane out for a naked stroll, letting his hideous hairy-guy dong hang out all terrifying and in need of just SO much Nair. He gets off on the attention, so stop giving a shit about his hideous self and soon enough he'll get bored and go back to playing World of Warcraft. Still naked, still awful, just not as nauseatingly visible.

Johnny Appleseed - Okay, YES, he was real, and he planted a lot of apple trees. But you know what else he did? He touched little boys. So maybe we just let that myth die...

Bloody Mary - I don't know if she's real or not because I always got too scared! I bet she's real though. All coming out of the mirror and stealing your soul. Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, BLOODY MA- oh god, I just shit all over myself. Great...

Leprechauns - Short, drunk Irish guys that covet money? Yeah, they're around, but they don't wear green and they don't talk in amusing, cereal-bandit accents. They're usually dark-haired frat guys named Sean or Mickey and they hang out in faux-authentic pseudo-pubs in and around Midtown Manhattan. They work in finance, which means they work in the billing department of an advertising agency, and St. Patrick's Day is the greatest day of their year because barfing green impresses the ladies, or so says their older brothers (whom they worship). If you catch one, you don't get a pot of gold; you get genital herpes.