Random Acts of Ismael
by Ismael Manzano
Hello ladies and gents, it’s your—hopefully—favorite reviewer for www.g-pop.net, Ismael. I know that many of you—or maybe just me—have often read my articles and wondered, “What goes on in his head?” Well, you're friendly neighborhood g-popers, have seen fit to grant me a bi-weekly column of my very own to rant about whatever I want. Some rants will follow the same format as my usual ones, others, like this one, will simply be my thoughts spilled onto the website in an organized mess. So for those of you who've ever wondered what goes on inside my head, here’s a sneak peak. Don’t hold it against me.
You ever think that sperm banks would make a killing if they accepted donations over the mail? Think about it; how many more people would send their supply to a daddy bank if they didn’t have to face the embarrassment of going into an office and doing their business to readily-provided video or pornographic pictures? What? You never thought about it? Patent pending, so don’t get any ideas.
People who are stupid enough to imitate what they see on shows like Jackass, and Viva La Bam, deserve to get hurt, and should be laughed at—a lot. I mean seriously. They should release the name of the hospital and the room number of anyone who thought that trying to jump over a moving car would be a great way to get on a television show, so that every day me or some one like me can visit them, point and laugh at them until we get tired of doing so. That’ll learn them.
What if—and I’m just guessing here—heaven was boring? Would you prefer hell to an eternity of singing on a cloud, playing a harp, badly? Or what if you weren’t even yourself, just a part of some big ball of energy designed to power the giant, god-mobile. Would hell be preferable to that? I’d like to take this time to say that I love God and would love to become fuel for his god-mobile—whatever that is. Please don’t incinerate me. No, seriously, don’t damn me. I’m just joking. And on that note, I have to believe that God has a sense of humor, to create a creature like me. Otherwise, I’m just a fluke and, while I like the idea of being a celestial joke, I like the idea of a humorous deity even more.
I’m still waiting for someone to create my invention, a computer that attaches directly to your brain, and creates your manuscript for you. Think about that for a moment. All you’ll need is a basic idea, and the computer will suck your brain dry, formulate a plot, characters and so forth, and put it all in an order that will make sense to you. It’ll even read, read, read and reread it, ten folds until it is the best piece of work you could create—all in ten minutes. Again, patent pending.
If they just changed the first part of Homo sapiens, it would save you from having to hear another tasteless joke or read another pointless rant about it. Speaking of, why is it that the word homosexual, sounds so much cooler in Spanish than it does in English. Say it with a Spanish accent with me, ‘homosexual’. Doesn’t that just roll off the tongue?
Stigmata—it doesn’t sound at all like what it is. To me it sounds like some exotic dance. Sacrilege—that sounds exactly like what it is.
Imagine if everything we said was taken literally. Phrases like, “Your baby’s so cute, I could just eat him alive,” would send parents into a blind panic. What’s the problem anyway? Do I look like a cannibal?
I just realized that cheerleaders are, on the surface, no different from those people at talk shows who tell you when and how to laugh. All that’s missing is the cute outfits and the self-respect.
Ever think that Jacoby and Meyers should branch out and make their own Law and Order show. It would be great advertising.
Anyway, that’s all I have to rant about. Until the next collection of loosely strung together, random thoughts, with no discernible connection or purpose, this has been Ismael Manzano.
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