Posts Tagged ‘Henny Youngman’

Addendappendices: Reclaim Your Wasted Time

August 31 2011

106 addendappendices

Reclaim Your Wasted Time

So it didn’t work out. So you wasted 6 mos / 1 year / 1 year and 1 half / your entire life and now have nothing to show for it. So you’re haunted by The Things You Did And Didn’t Do, both the actual things and the song requiemming them.1 What are you going to do about it? You could get mad– at yourself, at them, at the homosexual agenda for not destroying the institution of marriage (and with it, the monogamous relationship) sooner.2

But none of these will do any good. Your time has already been wasted, and with that waste3 comes pomfrets: the delicious french fried school of time-nibbling fishes– particles, actually– that are ionized from the decay of wasted time!

Act V, Scene V

Stupid pomfret-- you eat time, not ghosts!

These particles affix to receptors in the brain, instilling a false sense of sub-euphoric placidity. As more time is wasted, more particles collect in your brian, and new levels of non-discontentedness are reached. Life becomes steady, sufficient. Your internal clock is slow-wound. Years pass to no benefit or accomplishment but you don’t notice.

Eventually too many particles build up in your brain and the whole thing bursts in a chroneurysm. The hands of your internal clock snap forward to their rightful place in an instant, skipping over weeks, months, years. The resulting shift is accompanied by outgassed seeps of panic and anxiety. Inert time bubbles deep suffocating regret upon your full realization of exactly what you’ve lost.4

You’ve trenched.

In order to recover, the time you converted into (complete, utter) waste must be treated, converted back into clean memories through one of the reclamation processes listed below. MUST.

Embrace the things you did do; don’t regret the things you didn’t
         Dumb. The things you did, fatalistically speaking, were the bare minimum that could have happened,6 and the things you didn’t do will always, always be your fault.7

Embrace the things you didn’t do; negate the things you did
         Getting better. It’s best not to embrace the things you did as you will soon realize how truly few they really were. For such a significant chunk of your life, how few moments you were able to cultivate/birth. 26, 28 tops. Furthermore, you’ll have to face just how underwhelming most of those moments actually are when removed from the context of your mutual affection. AND, triple whammy,8 the genuinely incredible, god is great, life-validating moments will loom even larger in comparison and eclipse your still-wasting life. Best to let all of that decay.9

         By holding on to your regrets and weaving them into a kind of heavy, mutli-pelt (non-matching, poorly sewn) winter coat, you can insulate yourself from potential human suitors/suitresses, thus protecting yourself from ever having regrets again.

Did you do anything you regret too much?
         Reverse do it! Literally! Whatever it was you did, do exactly that but backwards! Serious!

Note: I’ve been advised by my attorney to insist that you first fully consider what this would actually entail and how your actions would affect those around you and also to not ever reverse do anything under any circumstances ever.

Start living double time
         One path to reclamation is to live your life double hard until you’ve made up for lost time. Would you have had three drinks that night? Have six! Would you have driven five mph over the speed limit in order to make it home in time for 30 rock? Drive sixty mph over the speed limit!10 In order to make it home in time for 60 rocks! Would you have had sex twice? Jerk off two hundred and thirty eight times.11

         Once you’ve done this for half the life of your relationship you will have completely caught up with all the time you lost! Now to recapture the time you lost while recapturing your lost time, repeat for 1/4th the life of the relationship. Then 1/8th. Then 1/16th. Then zig instead of zag and live five times as hard for 1/17th the life of the relationship. Ha! Suck it, Zeno. Paradox? More like Pair-a-dicks! In your mouth!12

It was all an elaborate rube goldberg device by which your initial kiss was converted, over 10,000 steps, into a pile of shit
         Just say it. Like you mean it. Over and Over.

         Rowling. Build that Rube Goldberg machine– a replica of every step from your first kiss to your last– set it up, and watch it play out/fecalchemize your own stupid life. Keep on doing it until it seems like a dumb thing to do OR attracts huge swarms of flies. Gross. Spit, spit. Eww-uuhghg. PFppfpfpt.

Convert it into your own dumb art

         See: this. Please!

Seee It

         By creating your own dumb art you snag a spot in the nation’s Giant Fame Raffle. It doesn’t matter the quality of what you make, if your number is drawn you get your ticket punched for a one-way trip to fetishistic panvisibility. Now more than a person, your every action will be monitored and decoded for its secret meaning. Your very image will become content. Your secret parts will become exponentially more lucrative than their non-famous equivalents– make sure you store away a cache of pix or a fuck tape of some sort while you’re at your peak. That way, if you are ever in need of a quick bump of notoriety or some emergency royalties, you can leak it to some internet creep for a sweet payoff plus a side of plausible deniability. Sure, it seems unseemly now, but compared to what your hard-times future self will be willing to do just to be all-seen and all-sought one last time…

Protip: Keep in mind the degradation inflation index– 50 years ago in-context titties was hot-blooded stuff, by 2020 even full penetration with wide release will be de rigueur.13

         Being famous is still the best thing you can be alongside being fuckdickulously rich. Doing so means you (finally) get to have sex with not only 9s and 10s, but the 11s science has genetically engineered both soft (breeding & punnet squares) and hard (airplane glue + scotch tape vs. the human genome) as well as the exotic hyper-12s that willed themselves into existence . We’re still not sure how, when, or most frighteningly why they decided to come into our world, but have been assured that when the time comes the truth will be unmistakable. Now that I write that down it does seem less than reassuring, but believe me– when you hear it from their trans-sapphire eyes…14

         In addition to the grossly inflated value of your junk bonds and all the 6 dimensional tail that can get you, you also earn TrueCitizenship and the privilege to actually participate in democracy. Did you know that, contrary to popular myth, the Electoral College is actually made up entirely of American Express Black Card holders? It’s true! They’re apportioned to states based on their likelihood of voting Republican or Democrat in order to legitimize the delegate/super-delegate cover story. Good news, Rhode Island– Jay-Z represents!

Try to make your ex famous
         It seems counter-intuitive that you would throw good time after bad to try to help this person, but by making your ex famous you will a) have slept with a famous person and b) much like chlamydia, fame can be transmitted through your simple syrup.

         Maybe you can claim you were the inspiration for their great work/s and then you too will be a celebrity of sorts for having not just basted in their juices, but having gotten them flowing.

         The fact that you did all the heavy lifting getting them their record deal / book published / dozens of victims will make this play all the more believable. If they’re not a total asshole, they’ll even thank you in the liner notes / foreword / arraignment. Note: these are funnier if you read them in a robovoice in your head. Go ahead. Try it!

Pure desperation
         “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s 2008. *checks iPhone* Yep! 2008! It has a third G– it wouldn’t lie to me. Ha , ha , ha. Jokes! Now time to take my pension for granted and get a refinance on my mortgage. That Michael Phelps sure has a long torso, right? But I Hear It Is Why He’s So Good At Swimming! Uh… Change we can believe in!”

Chalk it up to experience
         By taking a piece of chalk and using it to trace the shape of the time you’ve lost so begins the ritual by which you sacrifice this lost time to the madaltdemon, Experience. Ek skktg og tok gljjnd skd prggjkes!1

2. Thanks a lot, Human Rights Campaign– maybe next time try making your campaign donations contingent on the achievement of actual results!
3. used unproductively, used productively towards ultimately worthless ends, when excited by radiation
4. 0.9 / 1.7 repeating / 2 and 2/3 / 100% of your fucking life5
5. Did you figure out when you die? Sorry!
6. granted also bare maximum, but who wants to be that vulnerable AND you don’t tell me what to wear you’re not my father? (Why’s dad telling me to get nude? Why’s dad telling me what to wear)
7. you’re the only one here, who the fuck else’s fault do you think it could be?
8. the one with the steamroller, the Michael Jackson one, the one that offers you flowers because it loves you
9. don’t worry, moments don’t give off pomfrets. They rot like orange peels, dissolve like starlight mints. Time poisons, moments compost or dissipate into minty spit. Keep it like a secret.
10. how much was the speed limit?
11. 1 copulation = 119 hand-made
12. I’m sorry Zeno. I should not have used gayness as an assumed aspersion. It’s not fair to you, and it’s especially not fair to the gay community. While I do get keyed-up whenever I totally thwomp a paradox, that is no excuse for my behavior. Pair-a-dicks? More like Pair-a-discs: I made you these mixtapes as an apology.
13. note: given the trend of increasing media savviness, you can expect that your vaulted pix/primarily softcore sextape will actually not decrease in value as much as one would expect. The audience will be aware of how much more this meant in its historical context (and even if they aren’t, they will for 1-3 media cycles be inescapably reminded as much by the CNNs, FoxNBCs, and Doritos presents The New Yorkers) and appreciate that fact. With their dicks.
14. they seem to have a weird fixation on our hydrogen sulfate supply, but I’m sure that will come to nothing.


106. Determine Your Worth as a Couple

August 22 2011

Determine Your Worth as a Couple

How and why are you better than every couple? What about the ones that you are worse than? How and why will you rationalize your obvious inferiority into a virtue of some kind?1

         – Interpret their unassailable and effortless perfection as arrogance, stuckupitude
         – Straight mockery — all hypothetical slipper-fetches and night pipes, all Darlings and Jim Dears
         – Go with The Old Canard (i.e. anyone that pretty can’t be smart or interesting)
         – If they are white, some sort of aryan jab
         – If they are not white, the smug but deeply secreted/sick self-satisfaction that (probabilistically) you’ve still got that going for you
         – If both, by admitting your defeat gracefully JK making a remark about how trendy that is now.

    A remark from which you, on the invisible ledger of not being an insecure piece of shit, will never recover. Such are the dangers of being an insecure piece of shit. But I digress…

You’re in the grocery store. It’s Sunday morning. All the real couples have flocked to get did their re-stocking for the week ahead. And you’re there too. The couples seem happy enough to varying degrees. One not-so-much couple is obviously upset about something. A puts a box of cereal in the cart and B takes it out and puts it back on the shelf without hesitation. Later, A notices and B plays dumb. How do you even get to that point. What are you even doing. But mostly the couples range from ‘just fine’ to ‘so happy to even (just) be together’. Where will you range?

    1. So Happy To Even (Just) Be Together: pure duprass
    2. SuperContent: a love comprising more than one contented core / your contentedness is the contentedness brought into being by the sum of all relationships to justify their notions of contentedness / note to self: remember to use supersaturated as some over-clever measure of next-level pussy wetness
    3. Hazy-eyed: a look is still A Look
    4. Happy: smile on proximity – genuine/shows up on camera; “lucky, fortunate, contented with ones lot”
    5. Just Fine: everything is a-ok
    6. Just Fine: everything is eh, ok
    7. Lazy-eyed: one eye trying the whole time to find something better
    8. Not Happy: But you’ve got tv (see Unhappy)
    9. Unhappy: Dictionary-diving at 4am2
    10. Shopping Cart Lashouts: Please, you don’t need to do this. Someone else will fuck you maybe.
    11. Why?: how come?

The art of comparison is so crucial to our identities that the (mostly worthless) Venn Diagram is one of the first non-arithmetic mathematical concepts you learn at your socialization boot camp, elementary school. Without plenty of examples and counter-examples of romantical contentedness, how would you know just how shitty your shitty relationship is/how would you know whether you should be happy about this thing that is happening to you?

         + Sure, you could trust your feelings. When have *they* ever led you astray? Oh, every moment of every day of your entire life? And you sort of wish you’d chosen ‘unfeeling robot brain plus intermittent regularly scheduled pleasure/pain subroutine’ instead? Well chewy nougat, snickers– you picked ‘fucking nuts’.
         + Sure, you have nice conversations, but so did your parents probably, and now they watch 12+ hours of Bravo each week– and that’s not even counting A&E and Laws & Order/CSsI.3
         + Sure, the sex is great but orgasms are cheating i.e. dopamine more like dope-of-you, making…4 OH! Wait: even a broken cock can make you cum twice a day.5 Or a broken clock for that matter– get that second hand clicking just against th– [ahem ed.] But, again, I digress…

Your only hope is context. Place your faith in the Great All-Connecting Tautology (or GACT) of society– in and against the Fellow Lives Of Adjacent Menkind6— and judge away. They’re certainly demonstrative, but I think their constant contact protest too much; we don’t need to prove our love/our affection is doth-less. They seem rill happy, but who wouldn’t be thrilled to find the only person on earth who would flow through those channels. Oh man, we used to be them but now we’re us; they’ll be us soon enough but by then will we be all used up. Shit. Don’t look too close, here comes one of those 10×10 couples that defy context/make all FLOAM brittle and crumbly and worthless by comparison…

If you could *just* watch them fuck, think of what you could learn.7 Their sex is no doubt one thousand times better than yours. They feel the earth move at three orders more magnitude. Their beast has 200 backs. Their actual act is more thorough: more thoughtful, but simple; aggressive but, as apt, delicate. As apt as it is effortless, unaffected. More sincere, but with a certain playfulness to it. More actual, somehow– not hyperreal, not soreal,10 but just the case, non-semantic.11 More Than Words.
Every motion is as if freed from marble– it is (as it has always been) the exact right thing to do. Bernini detail with Brancusi efficiency.12 Not reactive, but preactive. Some edenic state of pre-cognition, some perfect mindlessness, in which all barriers between them cease to exist– locked in a pan-dimensional kiss13 that is temporary only in Time.
BUT, also, unlike everything I just described, something that you would enjoy and absolutely want to participate in.
BUT, also, again, I digress…

So you’ll never be stars exploding in then night or electric eels under the covers.14 Who is? Other people who are better than you? Almost certainly. But you will never know for sure how many and how much better until you determine your worth as a couple. Do it.15

1. How: likely through one of the methods listed; Why: because you are a bad person/net bad people
3. Excepting, of course, Criminal Intent reruns.
4. I’m sorry.
5. I apologize. (That’s not even a play on words…)
6. Eh? eh? Remember those?
7. Correction: not learn, but observe. Just because you saw the 1995 Western Conference Finals doesn’t mean you’re likely to dream shake The Admiral anytime soon.89
9. Dream Shake The Admiral: euphamism for masturbation, hj (vs. a man), or to bring someone to orgasm in general? Would you dream shake the admiral (a discrete act) or would you be up and down the floor all night giving the admiral the dream shake? Probably definitely the latter.
11. div-ine
12. This is really cool
14. / I couldn’t get all the way through either
15. (Measuring) tape your life… please!

The Afinity Sonnet

November 2 2009

The Afinity Sonnet*


A ride from which there is no buck,

Almost every lad has had this wish.
We cheat and scheme and dream and fuck,
But from this track there can be no switch.


As surely as bulls and trains may semlessly
be conflated; there exists no escape in every ring
we have created. For death is true and ruthlessly
it jests: on our way out– as when come in– we cling


to breasts, recycled tropes we must endure
no longer: parse every eternity cast of finite stuff,
encrypt your histrionic plots and salt the saccharine score
no stronger. False cure for false infinity: redoubt romantic love,


redouble strife. In stead make your lot a Multiplicity:
Trouble four Michael Keatons to please, take your wife.

*As inspired by the closing couplet of September 28, 2009‘s entry.

My Knee Is Killing Me

September 21 2009

My Knee Is Killlllling Me!

^ It smokes 6 packs a day, double unfiltered,1 turning my pantsleg into a flaming Chamber of Stinkrets!


^ It does whippets like it’s a dystopian future in which, on the rare occasions you must travel to the Outground, the ‘Mild-Moderate Brain Damage Guaranteed’ you by huffing whippets is infinitely preferable to ingesting the actual air.


^ It is strategically killing off its own (stupid) muscles in an effort to flood my blood with myoglobin in an attempt to fail my kidneys.


^ Is there even muscle(s) in the knee?


^ It talked me into seeing Man on Wire and then convinced me that we could do that. And then– when we were on the wire– it buckled!


^ It talked me into seeing the short-lived 2007 ABC remake of The Bionic Woman and then convinced me that if I got into a car crash we could become the Bionic Woman. Now I have metal bazooms!


^ It talked me into seeing The Ugly Truth— it was SO BAD. Yeesh!.


^ It requires/has blackmailed me into feeding it so much opium (just to stop it from hurting me) that I got addicted to opium! And then, when I was trying to get some more opium (to feed my opium addiction), I got shot in the chest! With a gun!


^ Because I was stealing their opium!


^ It placed orders for suspicious amounts of fertilizer, ammonium nitrate, wait that’s fertilizer, gasoline, some other things probably, and cotton?– suspicious insofar as how small/individually-sized the order was./!


^ It has been making footsteps at night, moving paintings and stealing brooches, fucking around with the lights, watch fob is involved, cruelly playing off my Munchausen-by-proxy– which I revealed to it in confidence!.2


^ Its ambulatory worthlessness has lead to increased bus travel; increased weight on buses leads to increased use of fuel, greater amount of fuel consumed, and more harmful CO2 emissions released. Already scarce oil reserves deplete 2.9 attoseconds faster, Earth warms 1.6 zeptodegrees hotter; death = still inevitable.


^ Take my knee… to the doctor, please!


^ It keeps telling me logical paradoxes in a feeble attempt to overwhelm my sophisticated neural network. Puny knee– where does it say that liars lie all the time! Or, if you did stipulate that liars lie all the time, the statement could just be false! The fact that one member of a subset is a liar implies nothing about the rest of the members of that subset!3 You idiot!


^ It invented a Perpetual Immobility Machine by being genetically weak and thus causing near-imperceptible over-reliance on the right foot. (It is the left knee). Thus, when the right foot gets injured, and it is forced to carry more than its weight, AND– when combined with a concurrence of events, habits, and lifestyle choices that make it seem as if I ‘Were Trying To Invent Runner’s Knee– Like In A Lab Or Something,’– it sets up an infinitely replenishing cycle of injury, dependent-weakening convalescence, recovery/injury of dependent appendage, over-reliance-upon during opposing appendage’s convalescence, and, finally, reinjury.4







1 Filters feed into each other, ouroboros style, covering what one hand could only dream of covering, creating smoke that was never there in defiance of the first Law of Thermodynamics.

2 Alt. “which I revealed to it while drinking!”

3 Or, it would be the opposite of that Ricky Gervais movie– The Invention of Saying the Truth


4 It is apparently, actually, trying to save my life by stopping entropy. Its solution? PREDOMINANTLY ICE PACK BASED!