You're the God now, dog.
There's this guy who's always pushing me. He yells so loud. I have to cover my ears. He's my coach. But no, I'm not some turbosized mentally challenged holdover, doggy paddling in this year's "A Very Special Olympics", I am an honest to god real boy, Doing honest to god real sport.
Baseball, football, volleyball, basketball, racquetball; put a ball in front of me, goddamnit! I'll show you how to punt! Real sport like weightlifting, cage fighting, mixed discipline martial arts, bloodsport; put me in the octagon brother! I'll show you who has true retard strength! I gots no time for pussy pastimes like "run in a circle" or "let's see how high we can jump" or "let's do both at the same time to save us all a little hassle or possibly to make the hassle a little worse". Jesus Christ, why don't we just call tripping over hurdles a sport. Oh wait, we do.
Don't get me started on bowling. It had to be the Dutch that invented this little timefuck that I like to call "rolling a round hunk of plastic down gently inclined planks of wood at 10 massive white dildoes" And I'm sorry if I misspelled "dildoes" my dictionary doesn't have the word dildo. I use Webster, not "Richard Scarry's Busytown Picture Dictionary of Phallic Objects".
But what about "cosmic" bowling, eh? That's got to be fun. The word "cosmic" means fun; how could "cosmic" bowling not be fun.
Anyone for late nights filled with lasers and neon colored, black light enhanced, nausea? Dementia?
"Everyone at the bowling alley has it, (dementia). They caught it from each other, (dementia). You'll catch it too if you hang out at those dark alleys, (dementia). Let's give the demented a fighting chance. Just say no to (dementia). Just say no to bowling."
Now reread the above sentences with someone else saying the "dementia" lines by whispering the word in your ear as you convulsively wince each time because that whispering is making you so hot you can barely stand it. (Dementia), it doesn't matter who's doing the whispering or what it's about. (Dementia), whisper in my ear, baby, I love it… no, I don't care, do it. (Dementia), Oh yes, now you have a broadcast quality PSA.
"Let's go bowling" might as well be, "let's get cancer", or "let's fuck each other with this pointy stick covered in AIDS". Bowling is just as deadly. Don't let your demented uncle tell you different.
Fact: Bowling majors in faggotry, dentistry, and forestry. What do all these subjects have in common? That's right: fairies. Bowl and you are automatically in league with the fairies. Let me remind you that fairies steal children and leave them for dead in urban dumpsters. Al Qaeda they ain't, but only because they are too small and suggestively dressed to be Muslim. Sorry Tinkerbell, You must be this tall to ride the Kaaba.
Anyway, back to hating on the Dutch. I know next to nothing about the Dutch, and still I know enough to hate them all, and their children, and their dead relatives too, and possibly most of their former and current pets.
Rembrandt? Yeah, a likely story. Which story would that be? It doesn't matter, they're all true. "I heard Phil Collins is gay with Rembrandt." doesn't surprise me at all. "I heard Rembrandt will give you Alzheimer's if you smoke with it" I believe it. "I heard Rembrandt will make your balls shrivel up, almost as bad as Mountain Dew." Just as bad I bet. I don't even know who Rembrandt is, but I know he was at least partly Dutch, and that's enough, I don't want to know any more. My mind is already reeling, picturing the depravity of Rembrandt's Dutch ancestors. It's true. And if you saw these images flashing before my mind's eye, you'd believe it too: The Dutch have no shame.
So, that's right, I'm a superb athlete at the top of my game. I play only "real" sport and shun the other faggot games as various forms of chess. Chess is most certainly not a sport. Chess is a thinking man's game. "Some men think and others do" - someone famous who wasn't Dutch said these timeless words. I'll be "thinking" of this as I'm "doing" my hot supermodel girlfriend. You play chess? I've seen Kasparov's girlfriend. I feel sorry to know you. I am both the sportliest and manliest of the sportsmen. I deserve every penny I get, (though if every penny I got was in actual copper there wouldn't be any left for my brother to steal out of the streetlights). Oh, don't think I don't hear you: "overpaid doper, just like the rest, where's my organic vegetable to cry into, knowing full well that not even the salt of my tears can make nature as tasty as human growth hormone"
Yeah I hear you, "drugs are cheating". Tell that to Louis Pasteur or Francis Bacon, or some other guy, I don't care; I am no longer listening to you. I believe in medicine. I believe in science.
Science will allow me to hit a ball very hard and isn't this the greatest use of science? To hit balls as hard as possible. To amaze everyone. "He can't be human!" No shit, I'm fucking Superman; bulletproof by design. "Supersoak that hoe". God planned me and then the power of the Holy Spirit allowed steroids into my system. Thank you Jesus for letting me win the Super Bowl. But really, a shout out to the big J, if it wasn't for you, none of us would be here today… rereading what I wrote for the tenth time… because it is all so true.
(It is all so true.)
That's right baby, whisper that shit in my ear. I love it when you talk dirty.
Bonus Explanation based on sympathetic magic and the Kabala:
We spend lots of dough on sports. Billions and billions of bones. We spend almost as much on advancing science so we all don't die when we run out of energy, or accidentally bake ourselves by turning the atmosphere into a giant Dutch oven. Oh, but science can do so much more exciting things than save poorly planned lives…
Science can also make your team win more games! "You mean science can be used for more distracting things than curing cancer?" That's right! Bitch!
Admittedly the search for cures to our problems, (many of which we created ourselves, cruel masters of our own lives that we are), can be both hard and boring at times. That's why we have sports. There's the cure right there.
Why worry about Global Bunching, or Goose Fever, or whatever is going to kill you tomorrow, when we can live our short painful lives in permanent distraction. And what better way than watching morphologically perverse members of our species running into each other at ever increasing speeds. Flipside: "Science will cure my cancer allowing me to cheat death? Isn't cheating wrong? Get that needle away from me. I will not be juiced!"
How about we take all the money we sacrifice to sports and, "cure cancerglobalwarmingaids?", nah… send it on a rocket into the sun. We're never seeing it again anyway, at least this way the money will explode instead of being used for illegal dog fighting. Speaking of dog fighting: Pets keep us entertained even though some are overpaid athletes
Speaking of overpaid: "I work damn hard for my lousy paycheck and I can give it to the Yankees if I want."
Yeah, I guess. Just please don't do anything useful with it or people will start to wonder about your dedication to a team you'll never play for. But wear their colors every game day with pride, because in the end, your team might win. But they might not, and then you'll look like a jackass.
Sean "Sukkot on this!" Carlos is a columnist for Obscure Satanic Tracts Weekly and Vanity Fair. Though sometimes ill-behaved and vindictive, at other times he is helpful and kind. The extremes in his personality are explained by the fact that the massive size of his brain prevents him from holding more than one feeling at a time. He is a part-time contributor to Sean and Jacob.