BIGFOOT, please

oh, the voice of reason is trying his best to ruin my dream of being alive when they discover that bigfoot is real. bastard. — Dirty Howie

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Got this email from Howington after I pointed out the suit in the freezer recently found was probably a hoax to sell some new movie (or as it turns out, $500 “Bigfoot” tours from the hoax-holes who “found” the creature).

If you think about it, why do they have to test the DNA of this thing? You could just cut off an arm and skin it…no special effects people on earth could fake all the necessary bones, blood vessels, muscles, tendons, etc., as well as DNA.

Anyway, of all the legends and unsolved mysteries, BIGFOOT is the most worthless.

Does BIGFOOT have a spaceship and alien technology that could solve the energy crisis?

Does BIGFOOT have a time machine or live underwater in a cool place like Atlantis?

Does BIGFOOT have the secrets of quantum physics or keys to unlock hidden worlds and dimensions?

NO.

Know what BIGFOOT has? BIG FUCKING FEET. Oh, and he’s COVERED in HAIR at a time every queery-bare-chested, pretty-boy dickweed in media has NO body hair (update Dec 2008: add Obama to the list of dauphines).

BIGFOOT is a REAL man’s legend lost in the 70’s with Burt Reynolds while the mascot for the 21st century is a giant, gay, vegan, non-smoking pink dolphin.

What if we did catch a live BIGFOOT? He can’t speak, draw, write or play basketball. He probably can’t even wipe his ass…the government will just put him on the Endangered Feces list and lo, another USELESS WELFARE ANIMAL Joe Sixpack has to pay for.

BIGFOOT should stay gone unless he’s got a working fusion reactor in his cave.

Flowers in the Sciatic

The art of life is the art of avoiding pain. – Thomas Jefferson

Though disgusted by my recent bout with sciatica, I’ve been really enjoying these narcotic pills I have, so good they’re addictive!

Within 5 minutes of taking my (unprescribed) medicine I feel a spreading joy radiating out from my stomach, as if my muscles were made of knotted diapers soaking up an exquisite, urine-like warmth. The feeling of ax blades chipping at nerves in my legs and hip dissolve, the pain muting into a midget mime tapping in helpless silence behind his invisible wall.

If I notice any part of my body while drugged I feel only pleasure, a total absence of pain.  Compared to these painkillers marijuana’s high is too random, its euphoria waning quickly after the burning coughs.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do when the pills are all gone. 😦 Probably nothing.  The sciatica is 90% gone anyway; last week the fickle demon completely left one leg for the other, where it hasn’t been nearly as bad.

I’m embarrassed to admit I figured out the cause of this recent pain. My Rockport work shoes are over a year old and look like they’ve stepped on IEDs. They provide no cushioning, unacceptable when you’re on your feet most of the day. I tried looking for new Rocks last week, where I usually buy them every 6 months. The rude assholes no longer had them. I must find new assholes to save my feet, legs and back. Anatomy.