An Explanation
I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I figure the only way to eradicate stupidity from this country is by replacing Planned Parenthood with vasectomy. After all that’s been said and done by this generation, we really can’t afford to have another generation of morons. Indonesia is too great of a country to be run by a breed of idiots.
The other night I received a question from a friend in response to my eulogy at Prince Charming’s funeral. He asked me if Prince Charming was really dead. At first I didn’t bother to answer the question because I figured it was some kind of joke.
But earlier this morning another friend asked me if my middle name was really Constable. And for the first time it occurred to me that there were so many people out there who took my words on their literal meaning.
So to avoid further inquiries (and to vent my anger), I’m going to take this opportunity to explain myself. Right now I should be completing my 50-page paperwork on Intermediate Sonar Course, but I don’t want to take risk. I simply can’t sit here while there are so many stupid people out there.
Here’s the thing about the eulogy. It’s a metaphor. That’s my subtle way of saying that my glorious kicking ass-taking names days are now over and I’m scared shitless of leaving them behind but as much as I dread it, at the end I will have to accept it because being mortal man myself, I’m subject to the power of Times.
I could’ve used those words above but I didn’t. I love subtlety and you should’ve been wise enough to get my glaring point.
But you didn’t.
Which proves my initial theory that you, Sir, are a moron and are qualified to receive a vasectomy.
Anyway, this nasty ordeal was triggered by a random visit to a bookstore. Normally when I go to a bookstore, my feet would instinctively lead me to the comic book or console game section. Or when the opportunity arises, to the adult magazine section.
But last week, my feet decided to do something highly unconventional. They lead me to the maternity section. I honest to God didn’t plan anything about it, but suddenly I found myself surrounded by books, which had pictures of breastfeeding mothers on them.
The scariest part of the ordeal was that I actually read those books. I even went to the point of taking notes of things that I thought would be crucial for a pregnant mom. The whole time I thinking, “I wonder if she knows about these stuff?”
Make no mistake about it. It’s not like I suddenly dread the whole thing. In fact I feel really honored to know that someone actually looks beyond my monstrous outward appearance and my dirty mouth and see my inner virtue (whatever they are). If you are raised on a Christian family, you’ll know how much of an honor it is to be dubbed a godparent. I think that’s the highest form of trust you can ever endow to another person.
But as much as I feel honored, I can’t hide the fact that in a way, it really makes me realize that a certain phase of my life is over. A life – one like mine – has emerged and now it will be my responsibility to make sure she doesn’t stray off.My goddaughter.
Replace the word “my” with your name and you’ll know what I mean. Isn’t it funny that these two words can bring both joy and fright at the same time?
And when I read the last few entries in my journal, the outcome is even scarier. Words such as work, job-interview, bills, paycheck, tenants and deadline are now all over it.Two years ago – just two years ago – my greatest concern was that my mom would buy me the wrong game CD. Now my greatest concern is that I won’t be able to pay my bills in time.
Sure I can still go to a gaming store but this time the games would be better for my kid, or else people would call me childish. I can still sulk and make people cook my food and do my laundry, but this time I better not do it to my mom.
That’s what I mean by losing my privileges.
If you wonder why I take so much pain to explain this for over and over again, the reason is because I love life. My blog would probably say the otherwise. My choice of words (eradicate, vasectomy, pure breed, stupidity, embrace genocide) might signify me as a bitter and hate-filled man, but in reality I’m an ordinary guy who just couldn’t be more grateful for what he has.
I love my parents although they are divorced. At least they still have the sensibility to call me every once in a while and provide me with some financial aid when I’m in need. I love my sisters although at times they can be such a major nuisance. I love my computer although he tends to crash at the most inappropriate times. I love religion although it can be really stupid sometimes. I mean, where else can I get an unlimited source of divine comedy? I love my job although the pay is equivalent to a slave’s. I love my old regiment although it never won any futsal match.
I love all these things and by God, I do not wish to say goodbye to them.
But eventually I will have to do so.
The other night I received a question from a friend in response to my eulogy at Prince Charming’s funeral. He asked me if Prince Charming was really dead. At first I didn’t bother to answer the question because I figured it was some kind of joke.
But earlier this morning another friend asked me if my middle name was really Constable. And for the first time it occurred to me that there were so many people out there who took my words on their literal meaning.
So to avoid further inquiries (and to vent my anger), I’m going to take this opportunity to explain myself. Right now I should be completing my 50-page paperwork on Intermediate Sonar Course, but I don’t want to take risk. I simply can’t sit here while there are so many stupid people out there.
Here’s the thing about the eulogy. It’s a metaphor. That’s my subtle way of saying that my glorious kicking ass-taking names days are now over and I’m scared shitless of leaving them behind but as much as I dread it, at the end I will have to accept it because being mortal man myself, I’m subject to the power of Times.
I could’ve used those words above but I didn’t. I love subtlety and you should’ve been wise enough to get my glaring point.
But you didn’t.
Which proves my initial theory that you, Sir, are a moron and are qualified to receive a vasectomy.
Anyway, this nasty ordeal was triggered by a random visit to a bookstore. Normally when I go to a bookstore, my feet would instinctively lead me to the comic book or console game section. Or when the opportunity arises, to the adult magazine section.
But last week, my feet decided to do something highly unconventional. They lead me to the maternity section. I honest to God didn’t plan anything about it, but suddenly I found myself surrounded by books, which had pictures of breastfeeding mothers on them.
The scariest part of the ordeal was that I actually read those books. I even went to the point of taking notes of things that I thought would be crucial for a pregnant mom. The whole time I thinking, “I wonder if she knows about these stuff?”
Make no mistake about it. It’s not like I suddenly dread the whole thing. In fact I feel really honored to know that someone actually looks beyond my monstrous outward appearance and my dirty mouth and see my inner virtue (whatever they are). If you are raised on a Christian family, you’ll know how much of an honor it is to be dubbed a godparent. I think that’s the highest form of trust you can ever endow to another person.
But as much as I feel honored, I can’t hide the fact that in a way, it really makes me realize that a certain phase of my life is over. A life – one like mine – has emerged and now it will be my responsibility to make sure she doesn’t stray off.My goddaughter.
Replace the word “my” with your name and you’ll know what I mean. Isn’t it funny that these two words can bring both joy and fright at the same time?
And when I read the last few entries in my journal, the outcome is even scarier. Words such as work, job-interview, bills, paycheck, tenants and deadline are now all over it.Two years ago – just two years ago – my greatest concern was that my mom would buy me the wrong game CD. Now my greatest concern is that I won’t be able to pay my bills in time.
Sure I can still go to a gaming store but this time the games would be better for my kid, or else people would call me childish. I can still sulk and make people cook my food and do my laundry, but this time I better not do it to my mom.
That’s what I mean by losing my privileges.
If you wonder why I take so much pain to explain this for over and over again, the reason is because I love life. My blog would probably say the otherwise. My choice of words (eradicate, vasectomy, pure breed, stupidity, embrace genocide) might signify me as a bitter and hate-filled man, but in reality I’m an ordinary guy who just couldn’t be more grateful for what he has.
I love my parents although they are divorced. At least they still have the sensibility to call me every once in a while and provide me with some financial aid when I’m in need. I love my sisters although at times they can be such a major nuisance. I love my computer although he tends to crash at the most inappropriate times. I love religion although it can be really stupid sometimes. I mean, where else can I get an unlimited source of divine comedy? I love my job although the pay is equivalent to a slave’s. I love my old regiment although it never won any futsal match.
I love all these things and by God, I do not wish to say goodbye to them.
But eventually I will have to do so.
it's about the old cav. charge, right?
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Anonymous |
10:40 AM
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