Thursday, March 24, 2011

Julio diagnosed with Narcolepsy; Plans include...zzz...

For those of you who don't know (which should be most of you, since I didn't even know this myself), Narcolepsy manifests itself beyond the traditionally-held idea of "falling asleep" in public. "Sleep," in the traditional sense of the word, refers to having one's eyes closed and remaining still. However, during certain stages of sleep, such as "Stage I," a person can actually talk and perform cognitively complex tasks while still being, medically speaking, "asleep." It is just extraordinarily difficult to do said activities. I am such a person/hobo.

Even now as I write this, I am in the mid-way point between wakefulness and sleep. I hear classical music playing, even though there is no radio on. Right now, as I type this sentence, I see a scenario of...of a hobo. He's asking "Lady Gaga" to please stop what she's doing, because she's making all the other hobos look bad. Lady Gaga then says, "Get your hands off me, you damn dirty ape!," to which the hobo replies, "...Dick Cheney?"

I suppose the best analogy to what it's like to be me would be to watch this movie, "Waking Life." Luckily, I have a strong foundation in reality thanks to Emmanuel Kant's philosophical argument against Metaphysics. But for the character in the film, the line between real life and reality is blurred, and he finds himself not able to discern one from the other. I, on the other hand, are well aware of my dreaming state, though I only now realized that what most people call "Day Dreams" are actually "Actual Dreams" for me. Luckily, because audio information is recorded by the subconscious during these dreaming episodes, I have been able to absorb quite efficiently (possibly more efficiently than a normal person would) what is taught in a classroom settings, even within a dream-state.

The drawback? Narcolepsy occurs as a series of "attacks." So while on the one hand I get to enjoy my own imaginary world during class, on the other hand, it is difficult to stay awake to do the required out-of-class studying required for higher-level courses. The only thing that saved my college education was a last-minute prescription of Adderall and a whole lot of luck.

So, that's all for now. I, Julio, bid thee farewell. I cannot foretell when the next satire will overwhelm my consciousness and dream-write the next blog. But I can foretell that pretty soon my son is coming home and is going to expect me to be awake. I only hope I can oblige him, or at the very least, be the best "Ghost Dad" I can...and considering how fucking terrible "Ghost Dad" is as a feature-length film, I can't do any worse than Bill Cosby. And he's rich, bitch.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Al-Gaddafi Pledges Fight to the Last Woman and Child; Men Poised to Surrender

I don't speak Arabic, but I think the banner says: Dear America, all future military targets will be manned by women and children. Good thing we never taught our women and children to read. Otherwise, they be able to read this banner. Lol.

Aloha, America and the West! It is I, President the honorable TOTALLY COOL "and definitely not Hitler" Muammar al-Gaddaffi! I say "Aloha" because I, too, was born in Hawaii, thereby making me a U.S. Citizen. You wouldn't bomb an American now, would you?

Okay, if you don't buy that, then you leave me no choice. I, Muammar al-Gaddaffi, vow to fight to the last woman, child, unborn fetus, futon and/or my priceless porcelain figurine set depicting the profit Muhammad performing goatse in front of the aforementioned demographic.

Fuck you! It could happen.

I'm willing to put blood on the line, just as long as we're clear that the blood we are talking belongs to someone else. Anyone else, actually. Except for men's blood. Because let's face it, ladies, men are just too valuable. Who else is going to suppress the women's literacy movement? Not women, that's for sure! Believe me, we tried that, but all the women did was complain and complain until we tied them to a post and beat them to death with the bodies of their own children. Do we really need to go down this road again?

But I am not a cold, spineless and absolutely cruel human being. In fact, most of you have given up on my humanity a long time ago. In order to prevent more male-oriented bloodshed, I am willing to do anything possible to prevent more male-bloodshed. For instance, instead of having men undertake the dangerous job of manning our tanks, anti-aircraft installations and artillery, we've instead used hemp rope (because we LOVE the environment) to bind women, children and homosexuals to said military installations, thereby saving thousands of (male) lives!

We surrender! Please don't shoot! I made this flag out of my friend's underwear! Why didn't I use my own? Well, after the first round of air-strikes...and well, a "brown flag" doesn't do me any fucking good, now does it?!
But my kindness doesn't stop there. I've also utilized state of the art gluing technology to attach puppies and kittens to the tops of all armored vehicles. Not only does this provide environmentally-friendly insulation, but c'mon, blowing up puppies doesn't win "hearts and minds." But we're not bad people. In an effort to win "hearts and minds" of our own, we've retrofitted a designated number of armored vehicles to serve as ice-cream distribution centers. Call us crazy, but we love our children too much NOT to use them as human shields!

Prototype ice-cream tank
Prototype balloon-tank, code-named "human shield." That isn't really a code-name, is it? 
It's more like, "hey, we're going to use human shields, just-so-you-know. Yeah."
(a photoshopped image of a tank covered with puppies and kittens is supposed to be here also, but because I'm lazy, and because you're a pervert, I instead substitute it with a link to a nude photo of Vanessa Hudgens. Slut!)

In conclusion, do not judge lest ye be judged, and he who is without sin may cast the first stone. Unless we're stoning a woman and/or child, in which case go right on ahead!

In Soviet Libya, stone throws you!
...also, our children make their own death-stones. 

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