Rants, Random Thoughts, and General Skullduggery
Part V- Feelings, Notions, and Dreams
Guest Webmaster
Tim Smith
No one ever says unmentionables anymore when referring to genitals.
Polls indicate that two out of five people feel that forty percent is not a strong enough backing to confirm a poll’s principal assertion.
We would probably take it less seriously if it was called boob cancer.
Bowling alleys seem to have achieved a monopoly on the suffix -a-rama. I wish other businesses would start using it in their names. A pharmacy could be named Drug-a-Rama, a boxing gym could be Punch-a-Rama, and a planned parenthood clinic could be called Abort-a-Rama. Wouldn’t that make everything more fun?
The original AIDS monkey lives in my garage.
Joe Pesci is the MacGyver of violence.
If the seven dwarves work mining diamonds all day, why do they live in a one bedroom shack? It’s probably something simple like they’re all addicted to heroin.
A few years back it became fashionable for lesbians who were suckered into marrying men to hyphenate their surnames. Some even imposed these revolting monstrosities upon their children, and those children are now coming of age. Is it feasible that in the near future we will see married women with three or four last names? I promise that if one of my children has a teacher named Mrs. Smith-Jackson-Frick-Wallace, I will purchase an arsenal of firearms and encourage him or her to go on one of those increasingly popular school shooting rampages.
If all you have to do to get bird flu is have sex with a dead, infected chicken, then whoa, look out.
We keep hearing about jihad and those seventy-two virgins in heaven, but are they actually virgins or just really bad in the sack?
Don’t get me wrong; I admire Lance Armstrong and his accomplishments just like everyone else, but part of me wishes he had succumbed to the cancer so we wouldn’t have to put up with all this Tour de France crap every year.
Somehow Pat Robertson makes Jerry Falwell seem like a rational, understanding human being.
No one ever shoots up a library, but they probably shoot up in one.
Why do we have to keep hearing about shark attacks and hurricanes? It baffles me that these issues continue to be news. First of all, how the hell do you get attacked by a shark? It’s not like they can jump out of a tree and bite your face; you have to go to them. Hurricanes are slightly more understandable, but there are places in the southwestern United States that are prone to experiencing hurricanes. If you live in one of these places, don’t act surprised when a flying elm tree tears your leg off. It’s not a tragedy. The only real tragedy is that there are survivors who think it’s a good idea to rebuild. When they get hit by another hurricane, I don’t want to hear about it. When a hurricane drops fifteen hundred sharks on Miami, though, let me know. I won’t be able to get enough. Until then, keep it to yourself.
Torturing someone with a torch just seems right.
Probably the worst thing about living in the northern United States is the unsuitability for year round toga parties.
Tim Smith is currently a music major at North Dakota State University. He is also the only white member of a household that includes an Asian, a Native American, and a Mexican. You can reach Tim at timothy.smith@ ndsu.edu.