Prehenisile Genitalia

Speaking of being able to climb a tree using my penis, I think it's time we addressed the next stage of evolution. I realize you may not, in fact, have been talking about using your nuts to kneed dough, or peel apples, but I think it's time the matter was resolved.

There are several reasons I believe that we will eventually be able to manipulate objects using only our one eyed monster. The first, and most important reason, is that thus-far they are the only system we can survive without. If by a freak agricultural accident you were to lose your cherries and stem, you'd still be able to bring in the herd for a nice rest on a bed of hay in a large red barn that will become covered in snow, and will look quite charming by sunset, but only in winter, because barns in summer smell terrible. Anyways. I think its time we adapted our skin-tone sledgehammers to more intelligent and progressive means.

Tree climbing. It's time we take back the forests from all the women lumberjacks. What better way than to swing tree to tree with your man-lasso? You could be a modern day tarzan if only you could somehow engineer yourself a prehensile vag-blaster.

Juggling. Imagine, if you will, how impressive you could be juggling chainsaws using not only your hands, but with your double-pump supersoaker. If you're not excited already, you're not imagining it properly

House painting. You could easily use your below-the-belt giraffe to hold a roller and use your hands to read a nice book while you cheer up that drab decor.

High-fives. When our single banana fruit salads evolve we'll be able to lay down some skin without using our hands. Swordfighting will be the new high-five, and cockslapping will be a congratulatory term.

On the Enviroment

I attended a lecture earlier this year at Uvic, by a famous enviromental journalist that is one of the Uvic alumni. He arrived a little bit late, but that could be understood because he travels on his pedal bicycle. He gave us a rundown of many of the enviromental problems afflicting our country today. He is of the Suzuki class of enviromentalists; which means he is a person that loses sleep at night over the current state of the enviroment. This kind-hearted man has dedicated his life to delivering the scientific facts concerning the state of the enviroment to the public. His aim, is to create a better Canada for many generations to come: As soon as he remembers this thought, he is able to fall asleep at night.
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This man was very encouraging to the room full of wide-eyed students that hoped one day to be journalists themselves. He told the room that there has never been a better time to be an enviromental journalist. Back in the late 1990's, it was very tough for him to sell his articles. Nowadays, there is always some magazine ready to buy articles written by enviromental journalists.

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But who are these people that we entrust to deliver us our science? Why do we go to a journalist to learn about science, rather than the scientist? Wouldn't it be more proficient to skip out the middle man. The problem of journlists is the same problem that one encounters in the game of telephone that is played in elementary school. The class would be arranged in a cirlce, and a message is started with one person. He whispers it in an ear and the message gets passed around the circle until it comes back to the original creator who barely recognizes the message that he originally uttered. Who are these journalists that we entrust to feed us our knowledge?

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In a 2005 study of American journalists and the American public, both were asked where they stood on the political spectrum. Interestingly enough, journalists varied greatly from the public.

The Graph shows it clearly and irrefutably. Journalists are typically more left wing than the general public (They also apparently have less time on their hands compared to the general public, considering their refusal rates). One must keep in mind that this includes all journalists. This graph does not narrow its focus on the "left-wing hippy-nut-job" field of enviromental journalism.

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Enviromental journalists grow up in left wing enviroments. They live with vegan parents that have the full work of Karl Marx on their bookshelves. At a young age, the become afflicted with David Suzuki syndrome. When they start their research topic on the enviroment, they have already made up their mind on which side they will argue. Now it's just a matter of finding a scientist that has data to prove that global warming is destroying this earth.

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What is needed is a revamp of vegan peoples bookshelves. We must supply all the vegans in north america, with the complete works of Ronald Regan, Malthus and other hardcore conservatives. If we did this, children of Vegans would grow up to argue that global warming is a giant myth, and therefore is not worth worrying about. This would of course have the effect of destroying the field of enviromental journalism; there would be nothing to write about any longer. And then the enviromental journalist that came to my school would be out of a job. A whole sector of scientists and journalists would be out of work. Al Gore would no longer be famous and David Suzuki would become the title of some ancient Japanese myth that we never took the time to learn.

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But maybe arguing to save nature, is enough for most left-wing people. They don't want to experience the vast wilderness of Kanaskis summertimes that includes bears, lakes and forest-ranger dicks. They would rather stay home and Tivo the 'Nature of things': on every sunday at 7pm on CBC.

Kevin Costner Movies: America's New Drug of Choice

With the ever increasing reliance on technology such as TV's and computers, the human mind is now beginning to think virtually. Human beings no longer have to occupy their minds with medial tasks such as collecting fire wood and growing crops. They are capable of spending their free time and moments of enjoyment, in their TV room with family and friends. But who judges whether the movies they watch are healthy for their soul? This essay intends to revert the hypothesis that Kevin Costner movies are 'feel-good' movies.

In this study i will focus on two particular Kevin Costner movies to illustrate my point. These are of course 'Field of Dreams' and 'Waterworld'.

People that have seen the movie 'field of Dreams', will testify that it creates a cyclical pattern of emotions. One will feel very happy during parts of the flim; however extreme depression will also be created. Psychologists believe, that Field of Dreams has very small negative effects for children, and that it is more dangerous for adults that are older than 40.

In the movie, several dead baseball players, come back to life. Not only are they able to play baseball again, but they come back to life in their prime. They are young, handsome and athletic. The older viewers will feel very upset about this. They will look back on their life, and realize all of their missed chances and come to a general feeling of disaproval of their own life. They will wish that they too could go back in time, and be the person 'they once were'. One will however get dragged back into the story line, and transfer this immense depression into immense happiness. There are scenes in the movie that were made to be universally agreeable. Meaning that no one, regardless of their age, will be upset about them. Such scenese as the little girl having her life saved and also Kevin Costner remembering to throw the baseball again. This will drag the older people out of their depression for a brief moment, only to throw them into an even more immense state of depression once they get back into their own reality, and out of the fictional Costner reality. It is very clear that Kevin Costner movies are a drug capable of personality change. And what shouldn't you do when you are on drugs? Drive!

However, Kevin Costner had an enormous impact on American accidents, after his film waterworld. Lets look at boating accidents before and after the release of the 1995 movie Waterworld. Keep in mind that it came out during July of 95, so a good portion of the boating season had already taken place.



One finds interesting results. Kevin Costners movie 'Waterworld' actually initially increased the amount of boating deaths for the year 1995. Yet, after 1995, when one has a full boating season to look at the results, the movie Waterwolrd, actually decreased the amount of American boating deaths. How is this possible? Well this is common with the emotional cycles that follow a Kevin Costner movie. Ups and downs. Moments of tender elation vs. moments of vivid sorrow; moments of life vs. moments of death.

In conclusion, Kevin Costner movies are very depressing for people over the age of 40. There are only two types of people that are not effected by these movies. People that are not yet in their prime, or people that are satisfied with life. Otherwise, don't use or abuse Costner.

Sienna Miller-Round 2

I really did not want to bring the cat out of the bag this early, but i have been forced to. I was hoping to save Sienna until round 5 when i would seemingly be fed up with second tier choices and come to a religious revelation that involved Sienna Miller. I will save you all from that light-hearted affair and just skip to the Queen Right now in round 2.

Socrates: But how do you know that your answer is true? Can't all facts be upshot by a better argument. Isn't the only true piece of knowledge that one knows nothing.

Marc: Fuck you socrates!

Sienna wooed me in the original romance-comedy Alfie. She played the darling Nickie, that while being physically babe-alicious, proves to be enormously fucked in the head. Fortunately for the male viewer that got dragged to this movie by their girlfriend (or in my case my Mom), Sienna Miller takes her top off while painting the house, and then proceeds to host the most entertaining cook show I have ever seen.

Years later, she would again take our hearts away as the sexy girl that Daniel Craig almost got to spend the rest of his life with, if the writers of 'Layer Cake' weren't trying to be needlessly dramatic. What an ending! One should definitely watch the alternative ending, if one gets a chance.

Sienna. You are my new number 1. Congratulations!

Mustache Diaries

Day 1.

The covering is a light fuzz, similar to a newly Brazilian waxed chick, or small fruit from the okanagan. Light breezes ruffle the beginnings of my mustache like the sweet caress of an escort; calming yet irresponsible. The hair is lightly colored, soft and useless. Only time will tell whether or not this humble beginning will result in a mustache to conquer the world of facial hair.

Day 2.

Progress has been made. The general outline is Stalin like, and I am in fact highly motivated to force millions of russians to move to siberia and eat polar bears and each other. The urge is becoming quite strong, and I often have to tie myself to my futon to quench my murderous bloodlust for the russian people. Only time will tell whether or not this misplaced rage for the russian people of the late 40's will abate or subside with time.

Day 3.

The darker hairs have started coming in. My mustache has progressed from a light frosting to a medium gravy covered mess, dark and brooding yet uneven and chunky, like Robert Deniro. I trimmed it lightly with a pair of small scissors, and came close to literally blowing a load in my pants. Grooming the start of a mustache is much more fulfilling than killing russians, and I may consider this personal hygiene activity an alternative to genocide. Only time will tell whether or not mustache trimming will truly replace my building desire to enslave the russian people to do my bidding.

Day 4.

I have, for the first time, had to flick rice from the mustache. Unfortunately, the general shape of the french mustache is emerging. Untidy and prone to surrender, this mustache will soon throw the reigns of nazi oppression off it's cheese-laden shoulders and bear the full burden of it's cultural significance. Never before has a mustache looked so dirty, yet so simultaneously beautiful. For several brief moments I considered shaving off this monstrosity, but alas, the mustache prevailed. It's almost as if the hairs have developed primitive intelligence, like the vines in Jumanji. Slowly they will start developing red flowers to shoot poisonous darts at my enemies, and later, my house will be flooded and a black cop's car will become invaded by monkeys until Robin Williams fights a lion and completes the last good performance of his career. Only time will tell whether or not Robin Williams can salvage his career.

Day 5.

FUCK THIS BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS MUSTACHE, I'M SHAVING THIS FUCKING SHITRAG OFF

Day 6.

A small gust of wind tickles the mustache hairs as the mind control drugs secreted by the hairs slowly leach into my brain, motivating me to enslave and destroy the russian people once and for all. I will create a dream society where supply and demand vanish and the common man is hunted for sport when he refuses to help his neighbors. TOD NACH RUSSLAND, Rußland, zerstöre ich Sie!