On Love and Furniture
On the Human Condition
The Human Condition in a nutshell: Waiting for scraps to fall off from God's magnificent table of omnipotence.
From something broken, create something new.
On Mr. Right
It's better to wait for Mr. Right than settle for Mr. Good Enough.
On Love and Orgasms
Love, like orgasms, feels fresh and exciting and maybe even dangerous when we are young. Then it starts becoming familiar and comforting as we grow older.
On Internet Etiquette
You know what pisses me off, as in Queen-of-motherfucking-England royally? People who erase their own posts on a thread because you politely disagreed with them, leaving everyone else's posts afterwards without context. If a dude's too goddamn immature to practice this simple Internet etiquette, then he should get the fuck out of the Internet.
On God and the Earth
When you see pictures of Earth from space, you realize how beautiful our planet is. From out there, the world looks like a tranquil blue marble. Maybe that's why God, if there is one, doesn't bother.
Dear God: I'm still waiting for the superpowers to come back.
On Writer's Block
I have an awesome solution for whenever I have writer's block: I think about the bills I have to pay.
On Internet Etiquette Again
It's a weird feeling when you discover that someone deletes your comments. I mean, what gives? I'd understand that if a thread had degenerated into a classic Internet argument where profanities fly around the room, making Baby Jesus cry. But on something that doesn't even nearly resemble a retarded discussion? What is this, the Chinese Cultural Revolution?
I'll say it again: I want a sledgehammer cock that shoots flaming naptha.
Ever wonder how easier life would be if we remove every emotion except hatred? We could all be Daleks.
On Art Films
Whenever I watch a movie on my DVD player, I adjust the TV to make it black and white so that my neighbors would think I'm always watching art films.
You can offer them the world but if they're too dense to know what it's worth then they don't deserve it. What they deserve is a lifetime of regret.
Will you love me any less if I tell you I can eat chicken in a morgue?
On Writer's Block Again
Five cigarettes later, I still can't figure out why nasty old villain has to follow angry young hero to the wastelands.