I notice that most animals don't do much. When they aren't eating, sleeping, crapping, or ****ing, a lot of them just sit there and stare into space.

Now, a lot of people...when they aren't eating, sleeping, crapping, or ****ing....just sit there and stare at the TV.

So what did people do before TV was invented? Did they do other crap, or did they just sit around and stare into space just like the bugs and the cats and snakes do?

Did TV turn us into mindless animals, or did it just give us something else to do while we're being mindless animals?

Jimmie went to the grocery store. He was looking for pickled pigs feet. So he went and asked the manager where the pickled pig's feet were. And the manager told him that the pickled pigs feet just arrived, but that it would be a few hours before they were put on sale because they were buried somewhere amongst four tons of groceries that had just arrivved. Jimmy then said, "Is there any chance you can look for them for me? I'll give you a huge tip. I just really need some pickled pigs feet right now."

And the manager said, "sorry, you'll just have to wait. We might have them ready by tonight, but you'll probably not be able to buy them until tomorrow morning."

At this point, Jimmie flipped out. He started screaming, ran into the stock room and started throwing boxes all over the place. Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived and stuck Jimmie into the car to be hauled off to jail. Jimmie then died 2 minutes after being arrested.

Poor jimmie. All he ever wanted was to taste pickled pigs feet one last time before he died. As he lay dying, all he could think of was his burning desire for pigs feet. He wondered why God hated him so. If the new shipment of groceries had arrived only a few hours early, then he could have died a happy man. What did he do to deserve having to die empty when fulfillment was so close?

He died before ever being able to find an answer to his question.

It was around noon when the McCaques received the call. The huge, hulking grayback pulled up to their house in a dirty black Volkswagen Beetle. He squeezed his enourmous body from the tiny car the way all the little kids squeezed out nuggets when it was time for a ****ball fight.

Kids and their games.

And like the piece of **** he was, the greyback fell to the ground in a misshapen heap before managing to pull himself up.

He began walking to the front door, but stopped in his tracks when Dr. Bubbles McCaque peeked out his window.

"The kid for 50,000 bones. 5 o clock, middle of Big Red Bridge," muttured the greyback. He then turned around and walked back to his car. The door wouldn't open, so he kicked it, and the entire car collapsed into a pile of paint flakes and rusted metal. The greyback uttered an obscenity and shambled on down the street.

There was a time when Dr. McCaque would have tried to fight back, maybe pulling out a firearm and demanding that the messenger tell him where his daughter was. But that never works. The greybacks never know where the the kidnapped kids are kept, they are just mere messengers. And even if an angry mob were to try to beat the information out of him, he'd just blow himself up, taking all relevant information with him.

Then the kid would die, eaten alive by her captors, and her head would be stuck on a pike in town square as a warning to all: don't **** with the chimps.

Of course, the kid would die anyway. They always do. But not this time. Not if Dr. McCaque had anything to say about it. He would get his daughter back alive and unharmed, and that's all there was to it. He retreated to his den and set to work...time was quickly running out.


TO BE CONTINUED

Well, actually I don't like her. I don't even know her. But she's really pretty, and stuff, and my pants shrink every time I see her. But the thing is, she dresses really funnily. Like, one time I saw her wearing a camaflauge shirt. And i was just thinking, "that's so damn stupid. Who buys a camaflauge shirt, let alone wears one? Who the hell is she trying to hide from? Is she in the army or something? Does she think she's in the ****ing jungle? If she's not smart enough to know that green army camaflauge petterning doesn't work in an urban setting, then I don't think I'd enjoy her company. WHAT THE **** is up with camaflauge shirts in an urban setting? Why? For god's sake, what is the point of wearing camaflauge clothing when it won't camaflauge you?"

But then I started thinking, "maybe i'm being too hard on her. Maybe somebody gave that shirt to her for Christmas, and she doesn't like it, but all her other shirts were dirty that day because she lost power to her home and wasn't able to do the laundry."

So I conveniently and slyly approached her and asked, "pardon me, maam, but would you happen to know the time?" So she looked at her watch and....you're not gonna believe this...her fingernails were BLACK! I don't know how a person gets black fingernails, but my best guess is that they have dried blood stuck under their fingernails. Now, i don't know if this woman was sick, had some disease, or just had severe physical trauma to her fingernails, such as having them rip[ped from her fingers while trying to save a little boy trapped under burning car wreckage, but I'm not in any mood to find out. black fingernails and camaflauge clothing aren't a good sign, no matter how sexy you are. Sick women scare me.

I almost can't stand it. What can men do against such evil? And I'm not even talking about the really bad stuff, like murder and rape and christianity, but just the small stuff. It seems like everywhere you go, there's someone who hates you because you're small, or weak, or unpopular, or fat, or a democrat, or rich, or poor, or ugly. I don't even know if hate is even the right word. Maybe it's more about respect. nobody respects anyone anymore. Everyone wants to find an excuse to treat other people badly, to make them feel bad. Everyone wants to make themselves feel better by making other people feel worse. Is this even a worse problem than pure evil? I don't meet murderers often, but I can't go a day without meeting someone who takes delight in human misery. This stuff is worse than most people realize, I think, just a general contempt of humanity that gradually eats away at the souls of the pleasant people and turns them into monsters too. How can one erase the small hatreds of the world, the hatreds that are passed on to thousands of people during the course of a lifetime? the hatreds that aren't deemed bad enough to warrant making laws against them? How do you make people find love where there was once just hate?

Went to work. Ate. Drank. I really need to stop drinking so much. I've thought of going to AA meetings, but that would be admitting that I have a problem. And besides, only losers go to AA meetings. I also need to stop eating so much, though it seems I mostly eat when I've been drinking. Maybe if I stop drinking, that'll kill two puppies with one bullet. Though I notice that I'm now at a constant 150 pounds, and am not gaining or losing any weight. It's good that my weight has stabilized. I guess my official weight is now 150 (pounds). Still, it wasn't two years ago that 150 pounds for me would have been unthinkable. Once i stopped growing, I've always been around 120-130 pounds, not matter how much I ate or drank. I guess my metabolism is finally slowing down. I always knew this would happen, but I'm not really ready for it, i guess. It's not like 150 pounds is grossly obese, but the fact that that's my new weight is just another sign that I'm growing older. And that's sort of scary. I'm too young to age.

It's been a while since I've posted in this Diary. Which I think disqualifies this from actually BEING a diary. Isn't the word "diary" derived from the word "day" (dia=day)? I don't know.

Still, I think I should make a point of writing down my thoughts and feelings at least once a day, just for refernce. At worst, doing that couldn't hurt. At best, a daily account of my life could help me to see exactly where my life is going wrong.

I guess I've recently had a good reason for not using my diary recently, since I had no power. No power means no computer means no GS diary. But that's really no excuse. In the past two weeks, I've had several thoughts and fears about life in general, but I didn't write them down. I should've written them down on paper. Not only would that have kept them from being read by people who I don't know, but more importantly it would have preserved possibly illuminating thoughts from being lost in time. Now I don't know what mny thoughts and feelings were during tyhe last half month or so. It's like a dead dream you can vaguely remember, but it's so long gone that it's not even worth thinkink about.

Yes, I really must start writing a REAL diary.

But what happened today: nothing. Just a day fading into another. And that can't be what a life is for. I woke up, went to work, then came home and slacked off while waiting for it to be time to wake up and go to work again tomorrow. Day after day, it's just the same old thing.

Jesus, I need something different. All I'm doing is staying alive so that I can see another day during which I stay alive to see another day. The monotony is killing me. This can't be what life is for, to work until you die. One of these days I'm going to hit the road. Just pack up a few essentials, bring some cash, and walk the earth. Leave my life behind, and see what happnes. Actually, probably not, 'cause I've got no balls.Plus, I've still got a little bit of logical thought left in me.

I guess i shouldn't feel so bad. Life really truly sucks ass for most people. I'm certainly not unique in that respect. Most people are just as unhappy as me, plus they have to worry about actually dying. And they get by through decades and decades of lives that are a helluva a lot worse than mine. But damn, it sure is hard to resign yourself to the fact that life is primarily composed of embarassment, sorrow, and regret. I guess if I could relive my past knowing what I live now, i'd do things differently. Probably not, though. Just like a junkie knows he's gonna feel bad when he wakes up, he gets high anyway. I think I NEED to be unhappy just like a junkie needs his fix.

End transmission 9/29/04

Wow, I was watching the History Channel the other day, and I saw something really ****ing cool. Well, not really cool, since the show was about engineering disasters (and disasters are NOT cool). But in a way, it was pretty damn cool.

Anyway, they had this segment of the show about the Lake Peigneur disaster of 1980.

Some background information. Lake Peigneur had oil and salt under it. There had been a salt mine under the lake for years, then people came in to mine for oil. Before setting up the rig, the oil miners made sure they weren't near the salt mine. But their calculations ware obviously off. While drilling, they hit salt sooner than they should have (indicating that they were closer to shore than they should have been). Well, they kept drilling until the drill locked up. Then, while trying to get the drill unstuck, the rig started to tip over, so the oil drillers hauled ass out of there.

Next thing that happened was that the oil rig disappeared. A 150 foot wide whirlpool formed on the lake, swallowing up 11 barges. The land surrounding the lake also got sucked into the lake, and a 400 foot high jet of water erupted from the mineshaft of the salt mine.

Apparently what happened was that the oil drill drilled into the salt mine, draining the lake. A huge disaster caused by a single 14 inch drill that drilled into the wrong place.

That's pretty cool, aint it?

Unfortunately, I can't watch history channel any more, because I accidentally threw away my remote control. When I set the channels and stuff, History Channel doesn't show up. So whenever i want to watch it, i have to manually punch the numbers into the remote. But my remote is gone, so no more History Channel. Not until I get another remote.

That's the suxxors.

Speaking of the suxxors, I'm thinking of using one of those matchmaking services. But I've put it off so far because I'll bet all the chicks are ugly or something. That's the only reason I can think of why they'd be using a matchmaking service.

I've been wanting to start up my own business, or something. The only problem is a lack of money. I'd like to make a sweet ass new invention, or start a charity for a worthy cause, but I don't have the money. I'm also too lazy.

I don't like games any more. Games are getting boring.

If he's made out of tires, shouldn't he be black?

For some reason, they're reading my diary even though I explicitly told them not to. I think it's time for me to kick their asses.