Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

Most afternoons, when I am feeling like both a teepee and a wigwam (i.e. two tents), I find sitting quietly in contemplation helps me to relax. Obviously, whiskey is involved, because I would never be able to sit still very long without it. While I am sitting and thinking, these are my deep thoughts.

Jesus was into cross fit and it gave him great abs. You know, Saint Peter requested to be crucified upside down because he didn’t feel worthy of being crucifed in the same manner as Jesus. Think of a terrible way to be executed, and then ask the authorities in charge to make it even more horrific because you aren’t worthy of the easy version. I don’t want to be simply electrocuted; I want to be slowly electrocuted over several days using weak batteries middle-school kids made from lemons and pennies, and I want to be submerged up to my neck in a tank of salt water ladened with razor blades and hungry, hungry hippos. No, pirannah! Yeah, hungry pirannah. That’s the ticket! The hippos would probably drown before they had a chance to do any real damage.

The movie about the 4 year old virgin makes perfect sense, when I really think about it. I mean, if she were five, then it would be a different matter altogether. As the Golers say, if she isn’t good enough for her own family, she isn’t good enough for you. I’ll leave it to you to look up the reference.

The family exorcised their evil kid, but now he won’t stop coffin. Oh, and he’s fat, now. There had to be a fat joke in there, somewhere. As Ben Jonson once wrote, It’s a sad day when you don’t make fun of a fat kid.

What do you call those squat pooping contraptions? Do you actually use that thing to climb up and shit in the toilet like a South African farmer leaving a crap in his field? Seems like a bad idea to me. What if you were to lose your balance mid-grunt? There you’d be, on the floor, helpless, all covered in poop, rolling around like a turtle. A turtle in poop.

How is it that, if a woman walks around town in a skimpy blouse with a tit hanging out, that’s supposedly attractive, but if I were to walk around in agressively tight shorts with one testicle hanging out, that would be offensive? Oh, right. They’re testicles.

There’s a video on YouTube of children trying bourbon for the first time. They make funny faces when the guy in the mask forces them to drink the stuff. Could they have picked a worse bourbon to start with, though? Buffalo Trace? THE bourbon of United Airlines. Buffalo Trace. It comes in a small plastic bottle so you don’t have to.

—DG.

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