Medicine is a conspiracy, Witchcraft is real.

A close friend of mine once seemed wise.  She was artsy, cute, and interesting.  Suffice it to say I now refer to her as Voldemort, because she is both evil and is the root of a constant pain in my forehead.

This woman believes in guiding her life by pure imagination, so I created a fictional story to help you understand her ludicrous thoughts.

One Tuesday morning, I woke up in the realization that I had been struck with an extreme case of Ebola.  Knowing that Voldemort had experience in healing wizardry, I politely knocked on her door across the hall in hopes of finding a cure to my terminal disease.   She opened the door with the kind of smile a 13-year-old boy sees just before he gets molested by his ex-con 7th grade teacher.  I nervously smiled back at her and said, “Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything but do you have anything that might lighten the load off my Ebola Virus?  I think these poisonous boils on my face are about to leak.”

She excitedly replied with a yes and said, “I have just the thing! Come in!”

Ebola was apparently an easy feat for a magician of her caliber.

As I walked into Voldemort’s apartment, I glanced around at the floating books, recipes, and the assortment of creature limbs sitting in jars full of a murky, yellow liquid.  It was really creepy.  Before I got the chance to further dissect her hoarding habits, she immediately rushed to a nearby drawer and pulled out a journal.  After flipping through about half of the pages, she pointed and said, “That’s the one!”

“Three frog legs, one wolf fang, and 17 feathers from an Austrian hen,” she said.  “Mix it in a blender with 32mL of cobra blood and you got the cure to your Ebola.”

Oh, okay.  Let me go to a nearby lagoon and gather some fucking cobra blood.

“Does this stuff work? Do you have any medicine?”  I asked.

“Oh, I don’t believe in medicine.  It is ignorant and a conspiracy.  Trust me I’m a health expert,” she replied calmly as if there was nothing a bit cuckoo about what she had claimed.

Trust me you are borderline brain dead, I thought. 

Health expert.  She was a health expert with the ability to cure EBOLA, buuuuut she’s sitting in her apartment  alone, unemployed, and broke.  Considering half of Africa is still dying from incurable diseases, there are only two possibilities.  Voldemort either truthfully believes in delusional healing witchcraft, or she is lying.

Science is ignorance and wolf fangs have magical healing powers.  Wealthy healing wizards compose of three fourths of the 1%.

 

Wind is my enemy.

“The weather was amazing,” is what they’ve been telling me.

“Until you got here.”

I arrived here in northern Lebanon two nights ago only to realize that Aelous hates me. All I want to do is water-ski, yet I suffer from the powerless surrendering of my schedule to an all-mighty douchebag. He probably isn’t even real. The only appropriate follow-up action was to Google the name Aelous to see what the mystical-man-fairy looked like. After being thoroughly amused by the right-to-left page setup of the Lebanese Google, I discovered that Aelous literally looked like a fairy with a helmet on. His wings also made me question his sexual orientation, and still, I have not arrived at a conclusion.

A typical day for me here would involve water-skiing or spear fishing all afternoon. It would be a medley of maritime murder and athletic recreation. But thanks to AELOUS, my day has been comprised of eating and drinking coffee with old people. A medley of nutrient  consumption and wrinkle watching.

NEWS FLASH:

I fell asleep writing this post and woke up to find the sea smooth as butter. I water skied for three hours and now, I am in a state of physical rehabilitation. This reminds of the seven and a half years I spent in the congo building relief huts for pregnant gorillas. My muscles have never been more sore. Although wounded, I have succeeded in my mission to ski the waters of the Mediterranean sea and I only ran over six helpless baby sea turtles. If I didn’t abruptly end their lives, a shark would have eaten them and used the energy to rape a helpless white baby.

You’re welcome white baby.

The “Hipster” Paradox

In an overbearingly annoying attempt to not follow the crowd, hipsters have created the people that are the biggest sheep of them all.

Look around hipsters, you are all following each other. You may have succeeded in being different from us normal people, but next time you are at a reggae concert or hanging out with your hipster friends, please open your eyes and look around. All your hairstyles are the same (rocking dreads or a beanie), you all dress the same (thin flowing shirts with scarves, tight jeans, chucks or vans, and nerdy glasses), you all listen to the same music (reggae, techno, and anything underground), and you all hate the same things (anything popular). So by creating this cool, unique, rebellious group of yours, you have done exactly what you were trying to avoid: FOLLOWING.

There are TOO many of you now to be all calling yourselves different. 

Wake up. Look at a mirror or your best friend (it is the same effect because he looks exactly like you) and realize that you are living the biggest lie that there is. You are all the same and all following each other.

 

How to use sarcasm and not get punched in the face

Why should you listen to my guide on sarcasm? Well. I’ve never been punched in the face. Except for that one night a few months ago, but that’s because I, under the influence of seven and a half Jager bombs, challenged a man the size of a rhinoceros. He broke my friend’s jaw then proceeded to casually walk over and strike me square in the face. As far as I’m concerned I was on my front porch and I can make fun of anyone I want.

Here are my relative guidelines to avoiding being struck, while also effectively using sarcasm to fit in and make people like you (<— there’s your first taste):

1) Always feel out the person first. Sarcasm can be taken wrong if someone doesn’t know your personality.  Especially if it’s a woman. There are women out there that do not take any shit. You have to be able to notice that quality or it will be bad. If you mess up sarcasm with that feminine beast,  she will publicly pick out and chew on all your insecurities, like an eagle picks at a bird carcass, and then throw the remains to all your nearest  friends to prey upon.

2) Never use racial jokes unless you know the person very well and there is a clear understanding that it is appropriate. Biggots are not well-recieved in society.

3) Smile you stone-faced killer. Sarcasm and smiles go together. Or you’re just an asshole.

4) You can’t make sarcastic jokes about an issue that is blatantly a problem for someone. For example, if you are hanging out with someone with a hump back (which is perfectly cool with me), do not call them Quasimodo. A lot of people mess this one up. They think making fun of real problems is funny, but it has to be something that no one cares about. Or you’re  just an asshole.

Good sarcasm: If one of your GOOD friends is wearing bright pink shorts, you can definitely say, “Did you use a tampon string to fish out those shorts from your closet?”

Bad sarcasm: If a woman (that you don’t know) enters the room with a giant mole on the tip of her nose, and you say, ” Who let the wicked witch of the west in to our place?”

Don’t  be an asshole.

Tipping…or Bribing?

After golfing a full round with my dad, he asked me if I had any change in my wallet. I instantly knew it was for the guy who was going to clean our clubs and store them away, so I reached into my pocket and tipped him myself. It looked like this:

Am I tipping someone or am I trafficking drugs?

Creativity is Defiance.

To create something new, something unheard of, one must defy a preexisting rule or discover an entirely new concept that hasn’t been introduced before. We would have never known that the world was round if someone didn’t question the generally accepted principle that it was square. Progress has always been sparked by someone who didn’t settle on the answers that were given to them by higher powers.

I have never been comfortable with the idea that if more people believe something, than it must be true. Let’s say someone wants to learn to become good at fishing. Just because a highly-recommended book I bought at the store states the best way to fish, doesn’t mean there isn’t a better way waiting to be discovered. If everyone followed what books and people said, there would be no progress and we would all become robots doing the same thing, over and over again.

Question everything. No one really knows anything about life. It is a system of information passed on by the people before us and we are taught to believe it. Defy pre-existing ideas and see if you can find a new way to do something. Even if it’s as simple as how you go about cleaning your bathroom or doing your laundry. Try new ways and you might discover that what is generally accepted as true, is actually not.

Everyone thought Abraham Lincoln  was president, but Tim Burton has shown us that he is a vampire slayer too.

Defiance is the root to creativity.