A Man Who Can’t Shake the Feeling that People Around Him Can Tell He’s Dying Slowly

DON: Good evening. This is Don Fernandez, your host for another edition of The Human Condition, bringing you the most striking interviews of common people you wouldn’t normally think about if you had something better to do. Tonight–Mr. Felix Castaneda–a man who can’t shake the feeling that people around him can tell he’s dying slowly.

Mr. Castaneda–can I call you Felix?

FELIX: Sure, sure. Please call me Felix.

DON: Felix. You called us for this interview to say that you have a suspicion that people around you can tell you are dying slowly. Is that correct?

FELIX: Yes, yes. Correct. I think it’s pretty obvious that they know I am dying slowly, right this very moment.

DON: And pray tell what makes you think that?

FELIX: Well, for the most part, I just feel it. But something happened that made me confirm without a shadow of a doubt my deepest suspicions. See, the other night, I was walking toward the train platform and was panting really hard because the stairs were so high, and I almost ran into this man who stared at me as if he was looking down on my coffin slowly being lowered six feet into the ground. Like he was ready to throw flowers down on me and getting ready to stomp the fresh earth above my grave after listening to my eulogy and disrespecting the priest.

DON: I see. That is quite a detailed and descriptive way of interpreting a stranger’s single look. Or glance. How long did he actually take a look at you anyway?

FELIX: Uhm, about 2 or 3 seconds…

DON: 3 seconds?

FELIX: Uhm. More like 2…

DON: 2?

FELIX: Probably 1.5…

DON: 1.5? You can tell all that from a stranger looking at you in just 1.5 seconds?

FELIX: Yes. And I can tell he didn’t feel too sorry for me, too. Like he was glad I’m dying. Like he was blaming me for all the wrong choices I’ve made in my life. That I never took great care of my dogs. That I married this woman who really didn’t love me but whom I only got pregnant on a particularly drunken night when I got retrenched from my first job. And I could also see it in his eyes that he condemned me for all those years I failed to go to church even after secretly believing in God again because atheism didn’t seem to be that cool anymore after college. Especially when I was accumulating all sorts of terminal illnesses–

DON: Wait, wait. Felix. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I’m sure that guy never really thought of any of that because he only looked at you for more than a second.

FELIX: 1.5 seconds.

DON: Yes, 1.5. I mean, if he were looking at you for like, I don’t know, 5 or 6 seconds perhaps… he might have actually shown you something more tangible.

FELIX: That’s jumping to conclusions.


I’m sorry. What did you say?

FELIX: I said you’re jumping to conclusions.

DON: That’s… Felix, can I please remind you that it was you who got this crazy idea that a random stranger on a train station thought you’re dying slowly because he looked–glanced–at you for 1.5 seconds.

FELIX: Correct.

DON: And that I was only positing the possibility that you might be incorrect because such a time span is too short. But maybe–just maybe, 5 or 6 seconds of looking could be more, er, revealing.


You’re jumping to conclusions.

DON: Wha–I can’t believe this.

FELIX: You should check your facts.

DON: I can’t even… Jesus. Anyway…

You mentioned you were actually accumulating terminal diseases. How long exactly have you got to live?

FELIX: Uhm, let’s see… If I take that into account… and that… and that one.. my rough estimate is 3 months.

DON: 3 months? YOUR rough estimate? What does your doctor say?

FELIX: I’m sorry. Whose doctor?

DON: Your doctor.

FELIX: I don’t have a doctor.

DON: You don’t have a doctor. So this is just you estimating that you’ll only live for 3 more months.

FELIX: Hmm. Actually I just remembered that other thing… so it’s more like 1.5 months.

DON: 1.5. Why am I not surprised?

FELIX: I don’t know. Should you be?

DON: I don’t think so. Ok, let’s discuss that. So according to YOUR estimate, you only have 1.5 months more to live…


DON: And what illnesses are causing you to die right this very moment such that you’ll surely be gone in 1.5 months?

FELIX: Oh, you know, the laundry list. Cancer, HIV AIDS, advanced heart disease, ebola, the bubonic plague–

DON: And I assume all these diseases weren’t actually diagnosed by a doctor, but were actually just… conjured by you one morning while you were, I don’t know, sipping a cup of coffee in your porch?

FELIX: How did you know that? That’s amazing!

DON: Frankly I’m not surprised. Because I think in addition to all these terminal illnesses, you also have a mental problem.

FELIX: Why now… that’s unsubstantiated!


FELIX: That’s plain preposterous! Why would you wish something as serious as a mental illness on someone?


FELIX: You think just because you’re a popular reporter with your own TV program that you can just barge into someone’s life and tell them what’s wrong about them? How could you? And my god–actually accusing someone of mental illness! There are thousands of people who actually suffer from mind diseases, you know. You should try to be more sensitive about the things you say. It’s 2015, people have got to learn to respect their fellowmen…

DON: I’m afraid we have to cut our program short for tonight. ‘Til next time. This is Don Fernandez, host of The Human Condition, saying goodnight and good luck.

A Little Man Once Fell In Love With a Little Woman

Let me tell you a story about little people.

Once there lived a happy village of little people–people so little they weren’t bigger than the grains of sand on the seashore. This happened a long time ago in a time nobody can remember now except me, but this little tale nevertheless happened–as sure as the little hand of the clock moves as I speak–and I tell it to you now before I lose its beautiful memory like the unfortunate others.

In this little town of little people lived a little, simple man who fell in love with the most beautiful little woman in the village. To say that the gap between the two was heaven and earth would be cliche but it’s nonetheless accurate, for the little man had little to nothing in life and the little beautiful woman had plenty of beautiful things besides her beautiful face.

Without any realistic hope of ever capturing the heart of the little woman, the little man dreamed big dreams and resigned himself to following the many likes and exploits (small as they were and ultimately insignificant) of the little woman. But a person in love sees everything different, and for the little man, every little thing that the little woman did was of epic proportions in every way.

But the little woman’s diminutive father was troubled. Everyone in the little village liked his daughter but none seemed able to attract her attention, so to ensure her future, he gathered the people in a tiny town hall where the best men in the village could make their strongest case to be the little woman’s betrothed.

There was much excitement around the cramped town hall that day as the villagers waited for the three most eligible bachelors to state their case to marry the wonderful minute woman in the center of the room. The little man of course was in the crowd but he wasn’t foolish enough to nominate his little self for such an important role and in such grand proceedings.

“Very well,” said the diminutive father, “step forward and tell me why my daughter should marry you.”

The first man–a proud one with his chin held high–stepped into the circle and spoke, “My dear, you should marry me because I will give you my little name passed down over a thousand generations to me by my family. A family so proud and held in such high regard that the moment you speak my name, the little people of this little village would bow their heads so low they would effectively disappear into the earth.”

The people clapped but the little woman never even blinked.

The second man–gaudily dressed with pockets as big as his head–moved to the center and said, “My dear, you should marry me for I will shower you with all the little riches that can be found in the four corners of this little village and the tiny country beyond: gold, jewels, property–everything you can ever think of. I have it. And I will gladly give it to you if you give me your little hand.”

There was much applauding that echoed inside the hall but the little woman’s lips never even twitched.

The third man–serious in demeanor and wearing a short beard–quietly walked into the circle and spoke, “My dear, you must marry me because this little head of mine houses the biggest mind in this little village, nay the entire universe. From now until we die, I promise to fascinate you with knowledge that only I possess and you’ll never have any question again because no secret of existence is a mystery to me.”

There was an uproar of little voices following the third man’s words but the little woman never even moved a muscle.

Greatly disappointed by her daughter’s obvious lack of interest, the diminutive father lost all hope and decided to end the short meeting. “I wish to express my gratitude to everyone who came here, but it appears my little daughter has little feelings for the tiny men who made their proposals. If there’s nobody else, you may now go ho–”

“Excuse me, sir!”

“What? Did anyone speak?”

“Over here, sir! I-I wish to make my case to be your daughter’s betrothed.”

And everyone in the town hall focused their little eyes on the little man so little, everyone in the little room seemed bigger compared to him. Some sniggered, a few snickered, and a couple of them laughed so loudly their voices carried over to the farthest side of the little village.

Thinking that the little man had no chance to win her daughter’s approval anyway, the diminutive father chose to let the man speak. “Very well, state your case, little man, before we retire.”

The little man stepped into the circle and said:

“My dear, I do not deserve your hand by any stretch of the imagination but I want it more than any man–nay, any soul in this little room. Your days are spent spreading beauty in this otherwise dreary little village, but little did you know that I have been following you closely, every dainty step of your little feet, every wave of your pretty little hands, for I have fallen for you so deeply that I feel like the earth’s core and you are the sun.”

Miraculously, the little woman’s eyes expressed a sudden glow and her lips arched to reveal the most stunning smile.

The little man continued, “I have no proud name to give; my family has lived for generations in relative anonymity to the most noble among our people. And I have no riches; I can barely find enough bread to feed myself every day. Most of all, I have no wisdom of the world to impart because the only thing I ever think about is you, my dear, beautiful one.”

The diminutive father’s jaw dropped as he saw his tiny daughter increasingly enthralled by the silver words of the little man.

“Thus, my dear, I have nothing to offer you. Nothing except my life that I promise to spend watching you grow more dazzling than ever before, and making you the happiest as can be possible in a small, small village like this. It can be said that my short life has had no real direction up to this day, and this day I find out if I am to wake another morning with purpose or without. But my heart will be still in contentment knowing your answer… My dear, do you accept my offer?”

Gleaming, beaming, the little woman stood up from her chair and slowly walked over to the little man.

Just then, a giant boot came down from the skies and squashed the little village of little people and everyone instantly died. Actually, it might have been you while you were on your way to the office this morning. It’s a real shame but little people perish every day when big people go to work, and it’s no biggie.

9 Sure-fire Tips to Expand Your Mind!

Life is too short to be content with commonplace ideas and philosophies society bombards us with. What use is being called Homo sapiens, “the thinking man,” if we refrain from using every bit of time we have left to enhance our meditating faculties? So in the interest of the purely rational mind and for the sake of posterity, we have compiled a list of intellectual tasks and mental exercises you can perform to expand your mind:

1. Start reading serious books. — Stephen Hawking didn’t become Stephen Hawking by reading Spider-Man, and Ayn Rand didn’t come up with Objectivism by immersing herself in sleazy romance novels! Chuck out every non-serious, fun, and emotional book or reading material you have in your shelves and start collecting those leather-bound tome-like ones without any pictures. If the font is smaller than size 8, that’s a good sign you’re in the right direction. Burn everything else. Burn your magazines, children’s books, photo albums, closet, dog, house–everything. Burn your parents for starting you on Sesame Street instead of Plato.

2. Die a little. — Genius is measured in doses of personal misery, so do not give up reading even if simply going through page 3 of a treatise by some long-dead German philosopher makes you want to tear up and slash your wrists. You’ll get used to the loneliness of walking the sacred path to knowledge after a while. Losing friends is another good sign that your lifestyle is evolving from the slobbery to the scholarly. Do not live for today. Live for the future! History will prove you right even if the present vomits you out violently like too much tequila.

3. Send a clear signal that you are not part of this pathetic game of mediocrity. — There’s a logic that governs everyday life, which the masses in their mass consumerist hysteria are not able to perceive. But you do. You see the master puppet behind the veil of illusions they call “life.” In many ways, you are like Neo in The Matrix. Your eyes pierce through the deceptive simulations to unveil the code in green Chinese characters that fall randomly on the screen. But nothing is random–and you know that in your very heart and soul. There’s some secret meaning to this, usually encapsulated by a quote on Instagram if you search #instaquote. You have to post that shit when you find it to wake others up from their artificial dreaming state and launch the bloody revolution against the machines!

4. Be a political T-rex! — Yes! Like the apex predator of the Cretaceous period, you must devour everything in your path with maximum savagery. Begin your day with a rousing breakfast of Facebook and Twitter skirmishes about the country’s foreign policy, have a violent lunch of some fool’s misogynistic, sexist argument, and close it out with a gory dinner of CNN and BBC. By the end of the day, you’ll be shitting Vladimir Putin’s face in your toilet bowl.

5. Talk in codes. — Nobody understands you because you are Alan Turing reborn. Haruki Murakami with extra wasabi. Yoko Ono on steroids and the beating heart of Jaden Smith’s Twitter account. Plants vilify you in the chasm between the primate amygdala and reptilian metacarpals. Buttermilk splash in your eyes when the red dawn of the event horizon explodes like a gokkun glass on the floor. Space pizzas and gorilla tits. Pimple soup. Keanu Reeves. Exactly.

6. Go on an intellectual diet. — Put that nasty bag of Cheetos where it came from and start picking up brain food. But 100% organic greens are just the start of a dietary overhaul designed to build your brain muscles. The extra vitamins and nutrients you need cannot be found in the grocery store–hell no! Go to the nearest bookshop and start tearing out pages of books in the self-help and history sections. Stuff these fiber-rich pages in your mouth and proceed to swallow. Choking is a hazard but few are those honored to die for knowledge!

7. Watch art house or go home. — Who the fuck needs another Iron Man or Batman movie? Jesus! Every single one of these Justice League of Fantastic Avengers had dead parents who they need to avenge by using ridiculous powers from extraterrestrial beings or super high tech gizmo bullshit. Instead of watching these mind-numbing popcorn flicks, go see art films that discuss the true nature of life and of existence. Have you seen Synecdoche, New York by Charlie Kaufman? It’s about this play about the people making the play, where the play depicts the making of the play, and each play is played out ad infinitum. It’s like Playception. Imagine living your life without seeing this movie and deciphering its hidden meaning! You might as well kill yourself now if you don’t have a copy of this film because your cultural taste is as worthless as nipples on a superhero costume!

8. Don’t forget to smoke. — Every bookworm worth his salt knows that smoking is one of the sure signs of expanded brain capacity. You could almost say sticking a big, fat pipe of nicotine is the ticket to the exclusive knowledge-is-power club. So never forget to light it up lest people start to suspect you’re a mental wuss and a buffoon. Be sure to puff that shit when you’re writing dark haiku on Tumblr or just casually reading Elite Daily. The more cigarettes, the better. Stick some in your ears, too, to stop hearing your blithering moronic friends talk about fun things like music and side boobs.

9. Do some head exercises. — Finally, work your muscles out! We’re not talking about doing puzzles and crosswords–no, sir or ma’am! Those things are for kids. We’re talking about literal head exercises aimed at creating more space for your growing cranium. Follow these steps: (1) Stand next to a wall. (2) Put your hands firmly on your side. (3) Observe proper posture–do not slouch! (4) Breathe deeply for 3 minutes. (5) Knock your head against the wall repeatedly as hard as you can until your cranium cracks and your brain noodles spill onto the floor.

Imagine Tequila

Imagine tequila.

Imagine that shot glass filled to the brim with that golden liquid of sin

and the gleaming salt crystals around the rim. Ready to tickle your tongue

and wake up the beast inside you.

Imagine the thin slice of lime sitting atop that small mysterious throne,

its citric flavor anticipating to chase away

the bitterest memories.

Imagine the glass getting nearer and nearer

your nose.

Imagine the aroma…

That aroma…

That most unique of aromas…

Now imagine meatballs.

Meatballs shooting from your throat like cannonballs at 1000 feet per second,

violently splashing into the toilet bowl

or onto your poor friend’s crotch,

shrieking and cursing you like a madman.

He won’t talk to you for a week or two. Good job.

Imagine pasta escaping from your mouth and nostrils at the same time

at incredible speeds like racers sprinting to the finish line;

and then red sauce mixed with your stomach’s gastric acid

spilling onto the floor for some unfortunate soul to mop later.

Or imagine lettuce from your dinner last night.

Good golly! That stuff’s still in there?

Rice swimming in your unusually dense saliva,

Liquefied Pringles,

Fluid fish fillet,

Melted nachos,

Super soft and saturated cheese sticks.

Coke, that’s definitely Coke.

Of course it could be your bile.

And bits of pork and beef fibers that something in your belly shredded like those amazing cutting tools on 1-800 TV commercials.

The probability of regurgitated food getting stuck in between your teeth

all of a sudden increasing by 93%,

so you can enjoy the funky taste until you’re able to dislodge it in the bathroom

with extreme difficulty

and revolting consequences.

Imagine that person you’re trying to impress

bearing witness to the unholy work of the god of eternal vomit and puke

making beautiful, earth-shattering retching noises

over and over again

like dying in the most painful, inhumane way

bringing everyone from other tables to the scene

of such splendid, stinky terror

you’ll be having nightmares about forever.

Imagine the morning.

Oh, Jesus, the morning!

Imagine the trauma.

Imagine tequila.

This One Makes Perfect Sense

One day, I woke up and everything made sense.

It started when I stepped out of my room and had a little chat with my friend next door. I was going to the office much earlier than usual and he asked me why, what’s the reason for being up so early. I said jokingly, “Well, what else? So I could see my soulmate in the office and finally confess to her that I love her.” He looked at me as if he really believed what I said, so I told him, “The heck? Of course, I’m kidding!”

He said, “You shouldn’t. You should tell her for real.”

I said, “Hell, no. I mean, not now anyway.”

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “If not now, when?”

He sounded so out-of-character and made so much sense that I went out kind of bewildered. I checked my phone and saw that I received a text message from an unknown number. I didn’t want to open it because the phone had little power left. Problem is, I left my phone charger. Good thing there was this store that sold all sorts of chargers, so I bought one. The vendor recognized my face and said, “Sir, that’s the third charger you bought from me within two months.”

I said, “Yeah, I keep losing them or forgetting to bring them. But they’re cheap, so I just buy new ones for replacement.”

“That’s a bad habit to keep,” he said.

“Don’t worry. It’s 2015. Maybe something will change,” I said jokingly.

“2015 won’t change anything unless you do,” he said.

I was dumbfounded. That was the second time somebody made so much sense that day. But anyway, I got to the office and started doing my daily tasks. There was such a lot of work to do that day that my boss noticed that I had a hard time keeping up. He asked me, “Why do you do all this? Why don’t you delegate some to your team?”

I said jokingly–again–“Well, it’s the start of the year. I want to be extra good to people.” Then I winked.

He told me with a cold stare, “Don’t just be good to others. Be good to yourself, too.”

And that right there absolutely blew my mind for it was the third time that day that somebody made total sense. But it didn’t stop with my boss. I went to the cafeteria for lunch and ordered a lot of fatty stuff and sweets.

The cafeteria woman offered an advice, “Discipline is just choosing between what you want now and what you want most.”

At the meeting with my team someone threw a one-liner, “The struggle is part of the story.”

I passed by one of my officemate’s monitor and his wallpaper read, “Work hard in silence. Let success make the noise!”

Then I overheard a whispered conversation between my crush and her friend. She was sobbing while telling her, “What’s meant to be will always find a way.”

Sitting down at my desk again, confused beyond my wits at what’s happening and not knowing how to get back to work, the guy behind me poked my back and said, “Start by starting.”

I went on Facebook where somebody posted this quote: “Music makes the pain fade.”

So I scrambled for my earphones and fired up my playlist. Bob Dylan was singing, “Don’t criticize what you can’t understand.” He was singing about more things that made an awful lot of sense, so I just had to quickly put my earphones down.

Just then, an email came in from this girl from another team. She was enraged at everyone for failing to do some project. She was quite scary. On her signature it was written, “Sometimes, it takes balls to be a woman.”

My boss noticed that I was looking quite pale by then, so he smiled and said, “Why wake up stressing when waking up is a blessing?”

I ran.

I dashed out of the office, trying not to scream, and ran into the guard. He looked at my face and chuckling he said, “Life is better when you’re laughing.”

His hysterical laughter echoed around the hallway as I barely made it into the elevator going down.

Finally there was silence.

I was wiping the sweat off my forehead when the girl next to me joked with her pal about the elevator crashing.

Her friend blurted out, “Well, a hard fall means a high bounce!”

Ding! The elevator reached ground floor and I sprinted across the hall where overhead, a new sign had just been put up: “There is no one giant step that does it. It’s a lot of little steps.”

I ran and ran past strange signs that read, “Never look back. You’re not going that way.”

And “Always focus on how far you’ve come rather than how far you have left to go.”

And “Sometimes, following your heart means losing your mind.”

And “Deep down, you already know the truth.”

At the end of the lane, I almost crashed into this fountain. Panting, clutching my chest, I looked wildly around me and I was alone. I didn’t know why I had to run like a fool. “My boss must think I’m crazy,” I told myself. I slipped my phone out of my pocket to tell my boss that I’m all right—I just had a sudden tummy ache.

I opened the text message I received that morning from an unknown number.

It said, “If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave.”

Further Studies Required

In the news today, a speaker for the Land Transportation Office said they are pushing through with the plan to increase toll fares but that it would require further study. The public will remember that a similar bill to increase train fares had also gone through a number of further studies before everyone was told that it was definitely a go. Aside from toll fares, the government is also expected to announce that water and power bills are bound to significantly increase, though these will require further study. In related news, plans for updating automatic voting machines for the coming election are rolling along, although a Commission on Elections source is quick to say that this would require further study, and a further bidding in case the public wants a more trustworthy company to handle the next elections. Furthermore, further research is required to once and for all confirm the reliability of these machines, which were used in 2010 and 2013 after several further studies. Those further studies, of course, all happened without anybody ever understanding what really went on during those further studies, as is the case for every project ever to require further studies. A further study of this news piece reveals that it was written hurriedly and without any purpose in mind but to keep repeating the phrase ‘a further study.’ And a further study of your life reveals that you, in fact, didn’t study enough in high school and college, which is why you have such a shitty job. Further studies won’t get you anywhere now because it is too late though it’s funny that some people actually get paid more in the job market once they have acquired a certain number of further studies. A further reading in this matter is definitely unnecessary but you wouldn’t really do that because nobody has ever, in the history of man, taken “further reading” quite seriously. Further studies on the composition of the human brain suggest humans are averse to a complex barrage of stimulus such as further reading, further research, supplemental data, supplemental material, and further studies. But nevertheless, further study is needed to assess the value of this news bit for presently, it most certainly lacks sense though it has an abundance of further studies.

“Everything’s Gonna Be All Right.”

There was this woman in a motel who said I thought too much about everything. I don’t know how she could tell that just by looking at my face.

She said “Stop thinking. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

That kinda struck me, so from then on I carried that all the time and eagerly handed out the advice to everyone who seemed a bit too uptight.

I always said “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

Like this one time, over bottles of beer, another girl told me about the uncertainty of her future.

I told her, “Well, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

She said, “Except you don’t know that for sure.”

And I really didn’t know what to say to that.

She was kinda right.

But anyway, I moved on.

Every day I would wake up and start thinking about my credit card debt. And when I would think about my credit card debt, I would think about my job. And when I would ponder my job, I would ponder about aging. And when I wondered about aging, I’d wonder about dying. And when I would think about dying, I would think about the cost of dying. And when I’d consider money, I’d remember my credit card debt.

It’s fortunate that at some point my brain would stop itself and say,

“Forget it. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

It’s a motto I secretly repeat in my head whenever I encountered something dire.

“Everything’s gonna be all right.”

Like when this girl cruelly turned me down because I’m no George Clooney. She hasn’t had a boyfriend for so long, I truly believe she was waiting for George Clooney.

“F that,” I said. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

Or when I almost ended up broke because I bought too much beer for people I didn’t know in a club. See, I was trying to impress them because they were white.

When I saw the ridiculous bill I just laughed and said, “Ha! Everything’s gonna be all right.”

Or when my bag got snatched by a man on a speeding motorcycle on my way to the office.

I shouted at the motherfucker and said, “Fuck you! Merry Christmas! Everything’s gonna be all right!”

Or that time our pit bull bit my leg and mauled my arm when I stepped on its tail as I stumbled drunk toward the door.

That one hurt like a bitch but I shrugged my shoulders and mumbled, “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

The morning after I found out my bed was soaked in blood from those wounds but I didn’t even notice I was leaking because I was too wasted.

My mother was shrieking in horror, so I calmed her down and whispered, “Hush, mother. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

Every single day I walked that compromised leg to and fro, worked that disfigured arm like it was nothing, wincing but smiling, cringing but enduring, stumbling but getting up.

People would look at me with quizzical expressions on their faces, I’d yell at them, “Bugger off! Everything’s gonna be all right!”

A week passed and the leg and the arm had grown the size of a tree trunk. Finally let my pride ease up a bit and took myself to the doctor. Doctor said infection’s seeped into the bone.

He said, “Sir, the infection’s seeped into the bone.”

I told that good doctor, “But doc, everything’s gonna be all right. Right?”

“Well, some things will be all right… but not everything.”

I was incredulous! I said, “But that can’t be right. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

He said, “Sir, there are maggots in your left humerus and tibia. I’ll have to saw them off.”

I said, “What?! You’re cutting off my arm and leg?”

He said, “Exactly, Sir. I’ll cut off the left if—you want everything to be all right.”

“But how can you be so calm telling me about hacking off my arm and leg? These are my goddamn arm and leg for Christ’s sake! They’ve been with me for 29 years!”

“It’s my job, Sir,” he told me. “I tell patients to calm down. And that everything’s gonna be all right.”

He was impossible! I told that good doctor, “Doc, what you intend to do is bad. Without my left arm and leg, not everything’s gonna be all right.”

He said with a smirk, “Actually, Sir, without your left arm and leg, all you’ll have are the ones on the right…

Then and only then will everything about you be all right.”

Christmas Elf Can’t Believe It’s Christmas Time Again; Quits Job in Emotional, Tell-All Letter to Santa Claus

Christmas elf angry

The following letter was retrieved inside a box of Thomas & Friends toy train dumped in a trash bin in the North Pole:

Dear Santa / Boss / Big Man / Big Red / Head Ho-Ho-Honcho,

I regret to inform you that I would like to tender my resignation as Senior Quality Assurance Plaything Officer from November 4, 2014. I hereby give one month notice to leave Santa’s Workshop.

I made this decision not because I’m unhappy with the opportunities you’ve presented but as a strategic career move…

Oh frack it.

Of course I’m unhappy. It’s CHRISTMAS FREAKIN’ TIME AGAIN.

Let me say that one more time in case you missed it despite the all caps. IT’S CHRISTMAS FREAKIN’ TIME AGAIN.

Son of a mother trucker!

I mean–good grief! How could this crapola be possible? I remember last Christmas like it was yesterday! Heck I still haven’t vomited the last of that expired gingerbread you passed around your overworked, underpaid “little friends” as a “treat” for working overtimes!

Wasn’t it just yesterday that that poor elf from the doll assembly line “accidentally” stitched his nose to a Taylor Swift Singing Doll’s gown because word was that he worked for 34 hours straight to make enough Taylor Swifts before Christmas Eve?

And wasn’t it just yesterday that you–in recognition and compensation for his actions you described in a memo as “worthy of emulation”–gave that elf five boxes of Taylor Swift Singing Dolls (the exact same ones he makes) to give to his daughters?

Way to go with battling alienation with corporate social responsibility, Boss!

But you’re not fooling me anymore. IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME AGAIN and I know you have a dirty hand in this monkey business!

We always say time flies around this sweatshop–sorry, I mean workshop–but it’s crazy how it’s been zooming like Rudolph on steroids these past few years!

Boss, I know you have some magical powers (not much but I know you have a few tricks otherwise you couldn’t have made that sweet woman Mrs. Claus fall for a ginormous, unshaven, basement dweller like you), so tell me–did you tinker with time?

It makes perfect sense for you and your sponsors financially. After all, you only fill your coffers during Christmastime, so who’s to say you didn’t do any hocus-pocus to make time go faster, so you could amass more wealth from this infantile culture you’ve nourished and thus become as fat and rich as humanly possible in whatever span of time you have left in this world?

My buddies and I like to joke behind your back that you’re in a tight race with George RR Martin for the next stop (newsflash: I hope it’s you who wins because I still want to know what happens to Arya Stark–my favorite vengeful character). Continue reading Christmas Elf Can’t Believe It’s Christmas Time Again; Quits Job in Emotional, Tell-All Letter to Santa Claus

Why It’s Better to Be Buried than to Be Cremated

Buried bones

With All Souls Day coming, my office friends and I got to talking about how it’s best to be laid to rest because of course everyone thinks about such a stupid topic every once in a while when one nears middle age where one’s finally halfway done.

It was such a lively discussion about dying that I thought it best to continue an exposition of my opinions here on why it’s still better to be buried than to be cremated. It’s admittedly a very old argument like coffee vs tea, dogs vs cats, ice cream vs cake, or Brad Pitt vs Tom Cruise–timeless as it were and as old as there have been insufferable idiots in the world.

But enough with the introduction. I say it’s better for a person to be buried than to be cremated not because of any real religious reasons but because it’s what he or she deserves.

Get this: the best way to assess the value of most things in life is to quantify the human labor involved in producing them.

Thus, a hand-crafted car is way more expensive than your regular cookie cutter because there’s just so much more sweat and skill expended to create the commodity. To me, the same logic makes it very clear which between burying and cremation is ultimately and transcendentally more valuable.

With burying, you have a whole bunch of people worrying about which coffin to buy (and if there’s still something available your size without the funeral director having to hack away your legs to make you fit), an entire drama regarding the piece of land to purchase for your final resting place, and between those two just a crowd of people getting severely disrupted in their busy lives to do one thing or another with your lifeless body which doesn’t give a flying squirrel’s ass what’s happening around it.

With cremation, you get a guy cooking you. That’s about it. Continue reading Why It’s Better to Be Buried than to Be Cremated

Box of Fries Starts Movement to Stop “Barbaric” Fastfood Patrons from Eating Fries Straight from the Counter

Box of fries

In the news today, Frenchy, who’s a box of French fries, called a press conference to declare that IT’S HAD ENOUGH.

“People eating me even when I’m still on the fast food counter–I can’t do this anymore!” Frenchy exclaimed on national television.

“You don’t know how it feels to be shamelessly picked and eaten even before everybody has properly sat at a table. Burgers don’t get this treatment neither does chicken. Or spaghetti. It’s just us French fries that have to put up with this double standard!”

Frenchy is just the latest among disgruntled french fries who have recently come out to criticize fast food diners for being unjust. Last week, Patty Potato also drew the attention of hungry junkfood eaters as it picketted around a popular foodchain with the slogan “Sit Before You Eat!”

“To be a box of french fries is to live in constant fear of being a victim of undisciplined gastric urges. I mean, why can’t you hold off for a few more minutes? How have we allowed this barbaric culture to spread unchecked?” Patty said.

Meanwhile, to bring more attention to its newfound cause, Frenchy has started a blog showing pictures of fast food patrons “revealing their true colors” and eating straight from the tray on the counter. The blog–which has already gathered 400 followers as of press time–is entitled “Fryinism.”

“This is just the beginning of a wider movement to right what is wrong in the world we’re living in. With my fellow fries, we’ll bring attention to other common indecencies, like dipping fries in ice cream and inserting them inside burgers. Eww.”

A quick poll conducted by us found out 95.9% of fast food eaters think this advocacy is totally original and that it might lead to a full-blown revolution in fast food counter etiquette. But our French fry issue poll being unscientific, please take this with a grain of salt.