helping you help yourself

It was a girl, I think, now that I look back on it from this present time that started me down this long, devious, and twisted path. A girl who put me into the current frame of mind and this powerful presence of self empowerment. A hundred thousand lies upon lies that perpetuate this dastardly, diabolical duet dancing to the tune of some unholy ballet from hell. It’s all bullshit.  Some silly suturing idea of a beautiful being, wrapped up in boots and black leather will drift down and appear to me like the Virgin Mary in the deep dark desolate desert. It’s fucking tragic and so god damn beautiful… I laugh my dick right off.  

They are all just black holes connected to each other through 11 dimensions, like some sort of comic game of donkey kong, jumping over nebulas, climbing ladders and up and down galactic elevators to reach the spotless princess only to find that she split with the overwhelming one who took her higher and higher. So I take a swig of this wonderful liquid. It’s that battle array that brings me back to reality, now nothing and everything can go wrong this night and all my missing limbs will be replaced.  
 
An exploding brain is an example of perfect control. So let’s add some more fuel to the never-ending, wickedly mind-bending, tire fire inside my head. Good luck, Buster you are doomed.

He’s that dude.
The Chubby Chaser.

The one who hangs right outside the barbwire fence on the south-east side of the camp for corpulent young women. He’s out there all day eyeballing the Biggums as they saunter by on their daily jaunts about the undergrowth, taking pant after puff from his long rockets whilst the Boom-Box, plastic zip-tied  to the front of his ten-speed, thumps out Unskinny Bop by Poison in excess.

Outfitted with only an unzipped black leather jacket, a pair of teal “Sleep Away Camp” gym shorts, and a red, white and blue headband, he intermittently whistles at each rotund goddess that he deems laudable of a hand job and a hot tub. He knew he had an obsession early in life when he found himself jerking off to Pillsbury Doh-Boy commercials. Now-a-days, this is where he hangs- outside the camp enticing the “chosen” girls with Fun-Size Snickers bars in a reflection of delightful excellence. They call him the Snake Charmer.

So the other day I was watching a physics documentary about black holes, Hawking’s Uncertainty Principle, and the battle it sparked between Stephen Hawking and Leonard Susskind for the next decade. The first time Hawking laid this mind-fuck of a theory on the physics community was during one of a series of conferences held at a mansion in San Francisco.

So in short (skipping all the physics mumbo jumbo), Hawking’s theory stated that eventually a black hole would disappear and all the matter that it had sucked up would be gone forever. Well this “scientific heresy” violated all the principles of physics up to that point in time. Nothing can be lost forever…right? Well naturally Susskind got quite disgruntled at this statement.

Well I decided to paint a picture of what I thought Susskind’s reaction might have been. Something like Susskind’s mouth transforming into a black hole and sucking Hawking right out of his wheelchair. Oh and by the way, Hawking admitted defeat when Susskind proved him wrong a decade later.