Halloween Edition

There was a house

The grass grew wild, for there was no spouse

Through boarded up windows and cracks in the wood

The man could be seen, his head veiled in a hood

It was All Hallows Eve

When he came to the door

With a knife up his sleeve

He was ready for blood and gore

No one could stop him

Not this scary thriller

He was the mass-murderer

The serial killer

Thrice he knocked on that old wooden door

But there were no sounds in the lonely house

Nothing could be heard

But the footsteps of a mouse

The victim was asleep

Coolest pumpkin ever!!!!!

The rest of the family was out,

Partying away as if the night were their last

“Good”, thought the man

The job will go fast

He opened the door and entered a room

It was sparkling clean

No need to for a broom

There were jewels on the mantel

Stacks of money in a bowl

The man kept walking

Nothing could move him from his goal

Past a bedroom he walked

Past a study, a bathroom, a library stalked

He made no sound as he crept along

The victim, unaware of his presence, slept on

Finally the man reached his boon

He saw the victim, illuminated by the moon

He pulled out the knife, and with great rigor

Also very epic

Laid waste to the silent figure

The family came home

And with surprise, they threw up their arms

There was a knife in their Lucky Charms

The cereal killer had struck again

I think you will find that there is no point to this poem other than to add detail to a bad pun and waste your time. Are you starting to see a trend among my posts? Happy Halloween.

Also, whoever said they didn't like my blog is very mean. They should get a life. They obviously don't have one if they don't like reading this high quality material.

If a tree falls in the forest

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, will it make a sound? No, it won’t. The only sound will be that of ten thousand scientists screaming their lungs out at over ten thousand decibels in frustration over a pointless problem that they have spent ten thousand hours trying to figure out. These scientists think they are so smart, that they can figure out a problem that was never meant to be attempted. Well guess what. YOU CAN’T!! You are wasting your time and my tax dollars. Its people like this who make me afraid for the future of our country. There are smart people in Europe trying to solve the world’s real problems, like global warming, and there’s us trying to figure out the sound making properties of a tree.

It’s not just scientists who are doing pointless things; people everywhere are putting way too much time into projects that are thoroughly useless. THE STUPIDITY IS GROWING!!! It’s like an epidemic. You thought the plague was bad … That’s nothing! The Idioticus Disease, as I am calling it, is consuming our minds. If it continues, it will seep into our government! Oh wait, it already has. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Your clever mind is thinking “Besides some of those politicians, I haven’t seen anybody like this. You’re wrong you crazy blogger. Your reality is crazy!!” I assure you, I am not crazy. Well, not completely crazy. Have you ever seen art? What good has that done for you? It’s pointless. Yet, people pay millions of dollars for a picture of a fruit bowl. The Idioticus is all around you. It’s there when you go to work, when you go to church, when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth. The truth that pointlessness is bursting through you; that in order to feel smart, we have to have purpose, however pointless it may be. It is purpose that created us, purpose that connects us, purpose that pull us, guides us, drives us. It is purpose that defines us. I’m here because of those scientists, dear reader. I’m here to take from you what you so desperately desire: purpose. What are you doing now? You are reading a blog. You know where you want this blog will take you, but you can’t know for sure. I’ll tell you where it’s taking you: nowhere. You are wasting your life reading this pointless rambling. Think about it. Have you enjoyed the last paragraph? Honestly, have you? You have been reading this and gotten nothing out of it, thus completing my goal. I have taken your purpose. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  *cough* ha *hack* hag *wheeze* haglah *gak*. I need to work on my maniacal laughter.

 

And just when you thought you were done reading this post. Part two begins. You can’t walk away now. You are almost done. You have to suffer as you read through the next paragraph because you just can’t leave. Dance puppet, dance!

And thus begins part two:

You’ve got to wonder. How did the traditions of Halloween start? How did an event that marked the end of the harvest season and an opening of the door to the Otherworld turn into an event celebrated by ddisemboweling pumpkins and taking candy from strangers.  I thought we were never supposed to do that. All of our holidays are messed up. We celebrate a jolly fat guy who watches you sleep and creeps into your house at night, little people dressed in green, and a giant bunny who gives us dozens colorful eggs. What kind of crazy mutant experiment was he in that made him so large and produce colorful chocolate eggs? I’m telling you, it’s those scientists. If I had a glass of water for every time those guys screwed up, there wouldn’t be a west coast. I have to end this post. The bad analogy police are about to catch up with me. They’re like bunnies; stalking their prey. They just got closer.

The Most Random Masterpiece You Will Read All Day

You know what I hate (besides politicians, cats, and Spinach [sorry Popeye fans, but there is something wrong with you {That was rude. I apologize. I love buff guys (seeing as I am one of them). I have nothing against Popeye the sailor man (toot toot)}].  I also hate parenthesis. So confusing.)? I hate the people who think that blogging is easy. These arrogant fools are under the assumption that creativity and pure genius are skills that can be called upon whenever I please. The blundering incompetent morons are ignorant of the ways of the great blogger. Their pea-sized brains know not of the dedication and immense effort that it takes to create this wonderful collection of words. They think that writing one of these posts is a piece of cake; that I can produce 20 posts in one day. THEY ARE WRONG.  Posting is not a piece of cake (It is actually a cookie).

  

Creating posts is like making cookies. If you try to rush and make dozens of batches every day, you will start to miss important ingredients. The posts will become bland and just like cookies, if you read too many at a time, you will get sick. Then, you won’t want to read (eat) anymore. However, if you go slow, and create a post (batch of cookies) every few days, they will never get old. The posts will be enjoyable every time because the writer put thought and effort into every post (cookie) instead of taking shortcuts and making cookie-cutter posts. Every paragraph will be a masterpiece, bursting with flavorful adjectives, gooey verbs, and warm sentence structure.

Now I’m really hungry. And tired. I am so immensely tired of typing all of those FREAKING PARENTHESIS!!! Look at them. LOOK AT THEM! So many curved lines. I call them the devil smiley faces. I hate them. I hate writing them. I hate typing them. I hate trying to figure out where they go and how they work. Parentheses are supposed to be used to state explanations. So what do I do if I want to explain my explanation? Do I have to use another set of parenthesis?  (A PARENTHESIS WITHIN A PARENTHESIS, I’M IMPRESSED.) What if I have to explain my explanation explaining my explanation? (WE GO DEEPER; THREE LAYERS). Another explanation? Just add another set of parenthesis right? Wrong! (THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE. YOU WOULD NEED A MIRACLE. A REAL ACT OF GOD.) If you need to explain that many explanations, just give up. Save a future editor some pain and never ever become a writer (Or a blog writer. I don’t want to have to read your bland cookie cutter monstrosities you call posts).

Parentheses lead to anger. Anger leads to hate. Then you will be like me! Embrace your hatred of parenthesis. Join me and rid yourself of the horror. Together, we will build an empire of explanations without the confusing trickery of the curvy lines. Join me, and we will rule the blogosphere!

Who you're voting for

The presidential debate aired last night. It was so exciting. I couldn’t stop watching. It was vicious. Attacks were made, time limits were overrun, and moderators were ignored. That is what I call quality television. And there were no commercials! It was amazing. NOT!!!! That was horrible. What a waste of television. How many people actually want to watch people argue and attack each other for two hours? There must be a lot of them because reality TV ratings are going through the roof. Seriously though, the moderator at the debate was hilarious. Throughout the whole show, he was fighting to get a word in between the two yapping candidates. He usually didn’t succeed. Those people could not stop talking. Where did they learn to move their mouths like that? Were they dropped on their heads as a baby? Did their parents not let them speak for their entire childhood and now they feel like they have to make up for it? I think that they both have Diarrheaofthemouthicus. It is a disorder where can’t stop talking. The words just keep running out fast and loose. 95% of all politicians have Diarrheaofthemouthicus. There is no cure. The only hope for these people is to become a politician yap and yap until they say something good and someone votes for them. You know how I said I don’t like cats? I like politicians even less. What if we all just did the right thing? We wouldn’t need a government and there wouldn’t be any debates. We would all save a lot of time and we wouldn’t have to listen to two grown men fighting like children. We can avoid these horrors, but we need your help. Parents, stop the spread of Diarrheaofthemouthicus; don’t let your kids become politicians. Its for the greater good of all of us.

My name is Joe Shmoe and I approve this message.

This message was paid for by the Stop Diarrheaofthemouthicus Foundation.

P.S. Mr. Woody would like me to tell you all that he likes volunteerism.

P.P.S. The next post will be on Saturday evening.

P.P.P.S. Please do not be mean to the presidential candidates in the comments.

P.P.P.P.S. I am tired of typing P.

P.P.P.P.P.S. If you are still reading, you have no life.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. If you are still reading, you have an unhealthy obsession with this post.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I know what you’re going through. You just have not find out if there is a point. You won’t stop reading.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. You should get that checked out.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. This fascinating array of P’s and S’s has no meaning whatsoever. You just wasted 17 seconds of your life.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. The end.