Inspirational Music

The Idiot Apocalypse Part 2

   Every reputable scientist on file was recruited to flesh out the plan – everyone knew what the plan was,  but that was it. Everyone thought it was a great plan, a fabulous plan, we'll make our own idiots! But no one had suggested how to actually do it, how to create idiots on purpose! It was quickly realized that normal selective breeding wouldn't work – there were no idiots to select for breeding. No, something drastic was called for here, something as unthinkable as the plan itself. And, after weeks of think-tanking and brainstorming, it materialized.

    A world wide contest was run, and the winning (or losing, depending on how you look at it) male and female with the lowest IQ were chosen. Preparations for the upcoming conception went on for weeks. The couple were kept on a constant diet of low-cal beer, poorly made crack cocaine, Twinkies and Ding Dongs, and entrees from the Olive Garden. Over the counter sleeping pills and Gravol were mandatory each evening, washed down with a half bottle of Red Devil, the nastiest red wine ever created, and each day was kick-started with crack, crystal meth, more Red Devil and an optional tube of glue huffed from an old sock. Some humanitarians voiced the opinion that this constituted cruel and unusual punishment, so the couple was permitted to substitute low grade heroin for the Gravol, an offer they both refused. Either they were intensely dedicated to the plan, or it was already starting to work.

    When the prearranged six month DNA damaging program had finished, the couple (who were oddly reluctant to leave), were pulled from the Official Compound, sent out for a romantic diner and given a coupon from Block Buster's, good for one free adult video rental, then sequestered in a 2.5 star hotel for the weekend. At 6 a.m. Monday morning, the pair were separated, the woman taken to her new lodgings, where a team of skilled, highly trained men would whine at her for up to 18 hours a day begging for “At least a hand-job or something”, then yelling at her that she was getting fat when she refused. She was supplied with all the cigarettes she could handle, alcohol reduced wine coolers, and a vast library of old video tapes featuring    'Parking Wars', 'Dancing with the Stars', and 'Who's the Boss'. The man was walked out to the sidewalk in front of the hotel, handed a half pack of Marlboro’s, and officially told to “Fuck off.”. After doctors had determined that the conception was, unbelievably, successful, the world settled down to wait out the gestation period with the most famous, (and, in all probability, most important) mother-to-be in all human history.

    In fact, many of the leftover religious crowd (who were unknowingly slated to take over, should no proper idiots be found), were likening her to The Virgin Mary and suggesting she carried the second coming of the previously unsuccessful savior of humanity, propositions she countered with a hearty “Blow it out yer ass or I'll come over there and kick yer uterus out!”

To be continued...

As always, be safe.

TRS

Preview

Excerpt from the upcoming 'End of Days, The Complete Annihilation of the Human Race, or Just a Beautiful Dream?'

Part One:

The Idiot Apocalypse

(Found in a time-capsule from the future that some idiot had buried backwards)

    And there came a day in Earth's history when the unimaginable, the unthinkable, the inconceivable, occurred. The last idiot known to man (his name is not important yet), died in, as you can probably guess, an outlandishly stupid manner. He was checking on the readiness of his lunch, and had just opened the oven door, when the majority of his head was blown across most of the kitchen, not so neatly shredded off right around the lower mandible. Things might have turned out differently for the entire human species had he not, at the last minute, wondered if perhaps his can of baked beans could do with just a little more baking. Hell, he could even have baked them without incident if he'd only thought to open the can first, or at least poke a hole or two in the lid. Nope, straight into the oven and let's just crank 'er up to around 475. Opening the oven door allowed a rush of much cooler air to hit the already stressed to maximum can, giving it that one, last push over the top, and it blew up faster than an inflatable doll in a monastery. The last thing he saw caused the last conscious thought he would ever have, which was,  

“Shit. Thought I'd bought the one without the gooey piece of pork fat.”.

Alright. In reality, there is no way that could have happened. I took a little license there with the pork fat. His actual last thought was, simply, “Shit.”.

    Now, you would think that the practical upshot of this event, the loss of mankind's last surviving idiot, would be something of a bonus to the rest of the species, but you would be wrong. Within hours of his death, the final few decent ratings enjoyed by reality TV shows and sitcoms about mixed families raised by single gay fathers took a nose-dive. The entire entertainment industry flew into mass panic; no one had ever imagined that idiots would someday be in short supply, hence, no one had ever come up with a contingency plan. Writers hadn't thought of writing anything that did not target the lowest common denominator, Studios hadn't requested anything above that same level, and Producers were still ecstatic over the fact that anything that aired under the catch-all definition of 'Reality TV' was an instant hit. Not only that, but these programs cost virtually nothing to produce – no major stars, no writers, no vast, expensive sets, no distant locations, nada!

   

   The industry's panic quickly carried over to the Sponsors, who immediately withdrew their sponsorship, and the result was the total collapse of every single television network on the planet except for PBS. Apparently, they had seen this coming since the 1970's, but no one took them seriously, thinking it to be part of some pledge drive or other.

    The collapse of all the networks got people to thinking, hey! What if the same thing happens to important institutions that actually matter? That could turn out to be a negative thing! And so the search was begun for more idiots to enjoy the programs and buy the products they were told they needed during each commercial break. The United Nations voted, and the hunt started, logically, in the birthplace of idiocy itself. Teams were sent out all over North America, desperately seeking some lost, unknown pocket of secret, hidden idiots.

    Days passed fruitlessly, stretching into weeks. Was it possible that any remaining idiots were smart enough to successfully evade the search teams? Well, no, as one PBS executive pointed out. If that were the case, then they would have evolved and would no longer be idiots, now would they? Again, panic gripped the world. No idiots left? None? What the hell are we going to do? We've already seen the downfall of the entire entertainment industry, (Not, you, PBS), the Retail industry reports that 80% of the products offered for purchase are just sitting in warehouses, collecting dust, and McDonald's has completely disappeared off the face of the earth.

   

   An emergency meeting of the United Nations was called and every single country on the planet was represented, for the first time in history. The result of this meeting was a plan so outrageous, so undreamed of, that most people had difficulty even believing it at all. Mankind would, for the first time ever, attempt to intentionally breed idiots...

To be continued...

Until next time, as always, be safe!

TRS

Hope it's temporary!

Damnshitpissfuck. I just spent a half hour on 'Punk Not Profit', my absolute favorite music blog, and every single download site had 'file deleted' or 'file no longer exists'.  I hope it's only a temporary situation - these guys put a shitload of work into it, and it's the best source for Punk music I've ever seen, check them out, well worth it! 

As always, be safe!

TRS

Don't Offer Unsoliticed Work-Out Advice. Ever.

It doesn't matter the gender, age, level of fitness, nor even the size of their belly from the number of people that will offer unsolicited work-out advice when you casually mention that you use the treadmill. These people are not contenders for a magazine cover shoot for Muscle & Fitness nor a Subway commercial walking alongside Jared. You have a hard time believing they might run briskly to their car in rainy weather let alone exercise furiously in the gym. They have no specialized training, no rippling abs, yet they insist their work out tips are GOLD. I could give two shits they run rather than walk on the treadmill. Big fucking deal! There will be no incoming call from the President congratulating them on their efforts. You have 15 pounds of breasts on your chest like I do you don't want to fucking run! They think they will lose weight quickly that way. Who fucking cares? Whats my rush? I'm not a prizefighter wanting to drop down a weight class for my next big bout. So for all of you out there that want to offer unsolicited work-out advice? Just don't. Roll up that little tidbit of advice and push it up your ass. Thank you.