Random Acts of Ismael:

Random Acts V
 

            Well hello out there you useless piles of net-surfing protein sacks—sorry, I really ran out of clever ways to address my one loyal fan out there and I figured it was better to insult you than to repeat a tired and overused line.  How did you like it, you sweaty discharge from a simian’s rectum?  Did I go too far with the monkey rectum thing?  I’m truly sorry.  As a token of my sincerity, please sit back and enjoy the latest of the title that started it all, my Random Acts.  By now you all know the format, so don’t complain.

            Have you ever seen someone who looks so much like you, you wonder, “What am I doing over there?”  Sadly, this actually happened to me.  I’d thought about approaching him, but I wasn’t sure that my lingering disgust at my own behavior as a teenager would not have prompted me to beat myself.  And I really didn’t want to beat myself in public like that.  I think the psychological implications of that would be too much for either me or myself to handle…I’m not crazy.

Why do women complain so much every time their cycle comes?  You don’t see men doing that when they’re on their cycles.  Hell, bet you didn’t even know that men had cycles.  That’s because we don’t talk about it.  Take a cue from us.  Hold in all that pain.  Internalize.  Take steroids.  And play sports.  No one will ever know.  And no one would ever dare question your behavior. 

Men, as they get older, develop hair where there was previously no hair—ears, back, etc—their voices change and their chest get puffy and breast-like…Hmm.  More hair, voice change, and breast, doesn’t that sound like puberty?  Think about it. Are you thinking about it?  Are you checking for excess hair?  I thought so. 

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  Well, in that case, here is my impression of G-POP’s very own, Jon Minners—Mr. Badseed.  Hey Yo…Titties…Handjobs in a move theater…Wrestling and more titties.  Oh yeah…social reform and racial equity…so I can have access to more types of titties.

Just for a lark, next time you’re in a grocery store, grab some organic or soy product, slowly read the ingredient on the back, and after a moment of shock—very dramatically—shout out, “It’s made out of people!  PEEEEOOOPLE!!”

A sure way to get rid of any lingering evil thoughts you might have—not that I ever have any evil thoughts—kill the cheerleader—is to imagine that the person sitting or standing next to you can read your mind.  It’s a great and simple trick that will have you seconding guessing every thought that runs through that diseased little head of yours.  It’ll also drive you nuts as you’ll find yourself explaining every odd or random thought to yourself so that the guy reading your mind doesn’t think you’re a complete pervert.  “I didn’t mean the dog was HOT-hot, I just meant it was kinda cute…for a…dog…yeah….that’s right…self.”

Although if you want to avoid doing that with everyone, try thinking something specifically about the guy next to you and see if he reacts.  If he does, he’s a mind reader, if he doesn’t, think all you want.  Example: “I think the guy next to me is a mind reader.  He must have overheard my thoughts to steal thirty billion dollars from the ATM machine down the block.  Oh crap.  Now I’m going to have kill him, skin him, and use his flesh to make my ultra-unbreakable-110% protection-super comfortable-custom-made-condoms…again.”  If he doesn’t react, he’s either not a mind reader or he’s having the same thoughts about you…run!  Run for your life!  I’m not wearing a condom made out of you! 

 

For feedback, visit our message board or e-mail the author at imanzano@g-pop-net.