Thoughts of the Humanist Upon Watching Porn

“She should have that mole looked at.”


Rational Responses to Dan Hill Lyrics

Dan Hill Lyric: And sometimes when we touch
                                The honesty’s too much.

Rational Response: I want to break up.


Not a Late-1970s Popular Music Lyric, But Should Have Been

It’s the last chance for fuckin’!

It’s the last chance to get it right!

It’s the last chance for fuckin’!

At least until tomorrow night!

 

(“Last Chance” – Words and music by Xander Gorgeous)


Common Refrains of the Assyrian-Period Douchebag

“Hey, what happens in Babylon stays in Babylon! Am I right, bros?”


Rational Responses to Charles Baudelaire

Charles Baudelaire: “You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.”

Rational Response: “Okay.”


An Observation about Foreigner

Of the many smash hits of the British-American rock band Foreigner, all but three were about fucking, the hope of fucking, having recently been fucked, or the reality of no longer being allowed to fuck a certain person.


Suburban America Is Out of Control


Suburban America Is Out of Control


Confusing Excerpts from a Dirty Telegram

OOH BABY DON’T STOP! STOP


Recessionary Cover Letters

Dear … You:

I learned about your opening for an outside sales rep on Monster.com, so I’m sure it’s not even funny how many motherfuckers are applying for this. At this point, after months upon months of this shit, I don’t want this job — I mean, who really wants a fucking job like this — so much as I feel as though I’m supposed to need it. And I do, I guess. I dunno, man. Goddammit, do I fucking hate LinkedIn.

The other night I was drinking free water at a bar and talking to this girl. She asked me what I did. Thing is, I was embarrassed of this shit job when I had this shit job. I just got up from the bar without saying a word and walked home to my shitty apartment and my shitty, dying cat. Yeah, I know how to do this job. I went to college. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. I read a bunch of those fucking books on sales techniques, the ones that make you want to rape yourself. I’m dead in the eyes these days. I look like I need to lie down for a while.

I’m sure I could be a valued member of your sales team. What the fuck is it, exactly, that you sell? I doubt you’re even reading this. After all, it’s coming to you from a fucking Hotmail address. You probably have software that screens out guys like me. Asshole. Anyfuckingway, all the usual pointless shit is on my resume, which I’m sure I’ll forget to attach. Whatever. I’m not hard to find.

Sincerely or whatever,

Chuck Fuckface (not my real name, but it should be)


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