Pieces to the Puzzle

Polling Services Incorporated

After a careful consideration of the opinions offered by fourteen participants, we have been able to deduce a shocking result for the question, 'Does this beard look like a desperate attempt at trying to be Amish?' (All fourteen participants were shown different pictures of beards.) With a margin of error of 35.3%, 77% of respondents said yes, while 23% were undecided. In an even more stunning result, 53.7% of respondents suggested that they held a favorable view of late Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein. This could be a result of confusion with the United States President, B. Hussein Obama, suggested R. Lithgow, who is an undergraduate at the Community College of Boise, Idaho.

Five Ways to Cook a Trash Bin

1. Fry it
2. Grill it
3. Oven that shit
4. Eat it raw
5. Who the hell contractually obligated us to come up with five ways to "cook" a trash bin? This is bullshit.

How to Ruin a Perfectly Fresh Pair of Socks

And no, we are not discussing the most obvious and literal solution to this conundrum, which is to lose one sock: wear them ten days in a row, or until they develop dark brown-gray crusting on the entire underneath, and then wash them. You can even wash them again, and it won't matter!

Ode to the Devil

Throughout my many crises, it had been to you whom I turned for affirmation. Removing the fog, I can now see how this was a friendship of placation. Unable to consider interests other than your own, you sought animosity and strife; the actions of yours, not worth mentioning, make me wonder how you sustain your own life. Surely people of such arrogance could not wield influence or command respect. Surely creatures of such transparent degeneracy would, rather, be treated as a lowly insect. But I look around and I consider the people who appear to be in control; they bear strikingly similar characteristics, and then I just want to crawl into a hole.

The Radical Alternative Lifestyle

Pdiddy85: LOL, I called Freddy and asked if he wanted to come to the library, and he said “yeah, I just have to finish breakfast.” ...It's nearly 1pm.
Jhostile06: hah
Pdiddy85: Seriously, I mean even if I slept in that late... I would still call it lunch.
Jhostile06: well you do seem to like things the old fashioned way
Pdiddy85: What's that supposed to mean?
Jhostile06: oh, nothing
Jhostile06: have you tried energy drinks yet?
Pdiddy85: I had three sips of Red Bull last week, but it was so sweet. Ick.
Jhostile06: thats ok, the coke isnt as sweet
Pdiddy85: Come on man, this is only my junior year. I haven't even tried to make a move on that girl in chemistry yet, and you expect me to start dabbling in that rubbish?
Jhostile07: look, pete, buddy
Jhostile07: im from the future
Jhostile07: and you are gonna get pretty messed up... pretty shortly
Pdiddy85: Not only do I not appreciate your online trickery, I am offended by the sentiment that I would feel the need to abuse my body in such a way as you suggest.
Jhostile06: oh brother, im finishing my breakfast and then going back to bed.

Can't Breathe

Everywhere I go, everywhere I look: you stalk me like no other, and your presence haunts me like a ghost. You've gotten rid of all of the things that I enjoyed about you; all of your traits I liked the most. I try to find some relief in something, anything; but you are there, menacing and impossible to avoid. Then one day I come along to hear that you are packing up and moving away, and I am overjoyed.

It seems like there is no end to the tragic string of events that you bring with you wherever you go. We go to lunch, you spill your drink on my plate; I help you move boxes and one of them falls on my toe. You, naturally, just chuckle it all away, showing no sympathy, no appreciation, no remorse. Sometimes, I think to myself, I don't know what to do with you anymore, but you'll get what's coming in due course.

I never quite knew how to tell you just how much I loathed you, how I hate every fibre of your being. The way you control me, the way you end up inserting me into the very middle of whatever I am fleeing. This is all well and good: you have pushed me to the edge and now there is no point trying to return. Finally I will address you and inform you of all the things that you felt too self-important to discern.

As I destroy your car and trash your backyard, I contemplate on what we had together once. The initial seemingly mutual respect has thoroughly disappeared and I am left feeling like a buffoon and a dunce. Thwarting my plans to deliver a list of grievances, you insisted on involving law enforcement, just to hurt me. The thought of your meddling lingers, much like a red wine stain, restrained by the clutches of incarceration where I just want to let be.

Forever I am tarred with your stinging memory; forever I must think about you and your horrid tricks. If you left me with any parting lessons of knowledge and wisdom, it is only that there is nothing I can fix. Through your actions I am left no choice but to wallow in my sorrows in the painful solitude that you have placed me in. I am a mere pilgrim of emotional trauma unable to escape from this wretched constriction of decadence and sin.