Posts Tagged ‘stages of death’

The fifth and final stage of death is acceptance. Pundits will argue the final stage is splattering on the ground after being pushed off a building. This theory has been debunked as not everyone dies after being shoved off a building. I have been shoved off lots of things. Jungle gym equipment, chairs, my own pride, beds, an ant hill, and off the person doing the shoving. You may think I might try to stop this from happening so often. Getting shoved hurts. But what I have learned is that certain things in your life must be accepted. Having two open palms push me out-of-the-way is one of them.

(Don’t let the Minnesota licenses fool you. Soul Asylum are dicks. This song is actually about shoving me. They would sing it as they ran down the hallways trying to find me, somebody to shove)

Acceptance can be tough because in a way it’s giving up. At the same time accepting things also allows you to move on. The biggest thing I have had to accept in life is that I will never become a professional athlete. No matter what I do I have no chance at ever making millions of dollars playing sports. I pretty much set this to be all I would do with my life. I didn’t bother studying in school or showing others respect. I had an almost .700 batting average when I was 10 years old. I was a defensive and offensive monster during recess football. One time I even scored a goal during soccer while I was the goalie with an awesome punt. For me to bother with books was silly. Things didn’t work out though. I blame getting off the nasal spray I was on which contained steroids. They never made me stronger or anything, but knowing I had steroids ingesting themselves into my body gave me the confidence I needed. Now I live my sports dreams vicariously through creating myself into video games and raising my abilities as high as possible.

I have also come to accept that good things will never happen to me unless I go out for them. We all hear stories about how someone was masturbating in a Starbucks bathroom when they discover a lottery ticket on the toilet seat. They scratch it off and voilà they’ve got $50. I feel guilty going into businesses merely to pleasure myself in their bathrooms. This popular occurrence will never happen to me. If I want to be rich I need to stomp on other people’s dreams. It’s a hard thing to accept. I always try to be nice and help others. Get this, I actually offered to listen to somebody else’s problems the other day. How insane is that? I know if I really want a lot of money I will need to start telling these whiners to fuck off. Bill Gates didn’t get to where he is by playing therapist. He got there by scamming friends.

(Apparently this is Bill Gates’s daughter. She’s hot in the states where the age of consent laws are 16+. In the other states she’s only adorable and will one day make a man very lucky)

People’s perception of me is something which is hard to understand. Am I likeable? I don’t think so. I think I fall into the category where you have to roll your eyes and say “Oh you!” I’m like David Blaine in a way. Nobody really likes him, but you know if you stick around enough you may have front row seats to disaster. I am enough aware I am not the person I wanted to be. I had hoped I could be charismatic, charming, suave, calm, and larger than life. I wanted people to be drawn to me. Even the most brilliant people in life would sit down at my feet Indian style to listen to what I had to say. When I say Indian style I mean the ones with the tomahawks. I think you know that. Indian people from India don’t have enough room to sit. Their sitting style would be on top of 4 other people. I have to accept who I am. Continue to evolve into what it is I want to be, but accept for now I am good enough.

(Those dicks Soul Asylum also wrote a song about Indian trains. Runaway Train is about Indian people falling off the tops of trains. Look up the lyrics. It makes sense)

The hardest thing for anyone to accept is their surroundings. Anything we cannot directly control can be difficult to agree to. The way other people behave is a hard one. People actually dislike other people so much that they are willing to make sure that person no longer exists. This is called murdering someone. It sounds kind of ridiculous when you think about it. Most murders happen because the person cannot accept what it is the other person has done or is doing with their life. Someone might be affiliated with a different gang. Someone might decide they want to date someone else. Someone might even have things in their own life they cannot control which gets them murdered. Accepting others is difficult. It’s one of the few social issues they teach you in school. It’s also the main social issue you learn can ruin your own life because people are not nearly as accepting as they say they are. I know I’m not. Not that it’s their fault, but I wouldn’t mind seeing most people with different viewpoints from me die.

The one thing we must all accept is on August 9th, 2012 the world will come to an end. There is nothing any of us can do. What we need is someone to save us.

The fourth stage of death is depression. Lots of people suffer from depression. I knew a girl who was diagnosed by a doctor with it. Before being diagnosed she was very happy. After being diagnosed all she did was mope. I didn’t much like her anyway. Now that she knew she was depressed and could start behaving this way I felt more comfortable being nasty to her. She would take it. Besides this idiot, there are real people who have real depression. Not the kind caused by the power of persuasion. For you, the true downtrodden, I offer you tips today on how to ease or possibly cure your wasteful existence.

Depressed people love lists. Did you know David Letterman fans kill themselves the more than Jay Leno fans? It’s no coincidence. They watch Letterman for his Top 10 List. Jay Leno fans are too cheery. They laugh at other people’s typos. They’re mean nasty people. And since we have determined depressed people enjoy lists, I will make the rest of this post in list form.

(When Jay Leno was named Johnny Carson’s successor, Letterman tried to kill himself by blowing out his own brains. He survived but will forever have to live with the gap tooth the bullet gave him)

Eat A Lot: Nothing cheers me up more than eating a lot. Food eases pain. It’s common knowledge. Remember that part in Field of Dreams when the voice said “Ease his pain” then Kevin Costner bought James Earl Jones a hot dog? Find your true comfort food. When you get sad eat as much of it as you can. Soon you will forget about the troubles in your life. If you’re anything like me, you will spend the rest of the night on the toilet. My comfort food, high fiber cereal. It’s healthier than cake because the box says so.

Eat Nothing: After eating a ton you’ll probably hate yourself even more. Especially if part of your sadness comes from hating the way you look. Nobody wants to look fat. Well, I’m sure somebody does. Somebody also took a shit in the sink when I was in high school. More shits have been found in the sink in my high school than men who have walked on Mars. We are doomed as a civilization. Sometimes eating nothing at all makes me feel just as good as eating a ton. I feel lean and fit. Like if I did this for another 60 days I might be able to obtain abs. I’ll probably also be very dizzy and near death, but I’ll look awesome checking myself out at the gym.

(Abs like these would be great. You know, the abs stoners insist they have because they spend all their money on drugs instead of food. If I can lift you over my head then you don’t have abs. You’re just almost dead)

Watch A Movie: May I suggest not watching Taxi Driver? This is by far the most dangerous movie in existence. It almost got Ronald Reagan killed. It’s my go to depression movie though. Problem is idiots like John Hinckley Jr. take it too seriously. I wouldn’t recommend watching a children’s movie either. The movies kids watch are too happy. Why when I’m bawling my eyes out into some popcorn would I want to see everything work out in an animated character’s favor? Watch something with an annoying ending. Like that Marcy May Marlene Malcolm movie. If you’ve seen the movie you get what I’m saying. If you haven’t, imagine the Wizard of Oz ending in the middle of a line by the gay lion.

Workout: Exercising raises endorphin levels and raised endorphin levels make you happy. That’s what I overheard a bald black man say. It’s true though. Exercising does make people happy. Until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Then you just want to give up and die in the bath tub with a dozen donuts in your naked wet lap. If you’re going to exercise to help your depression I recommend having someone weaker and uglier than you to do the spotting. You may get injured, but at least you look better by comparison. That should cheer you up a tad.

(How does this picture actually exist? I think I found my soul mate)

Socialize: Most depression is caused by antisocial behavior. Except masturbation. I don’t think that has ever made anyone depressed. I find even just yelling something vulgar out my car window at a stranger helps to make me laugh again. I don’t care what people say, socializing is any form of talking to others. Even if it does involve speeding away in a car. Be forewarned, do not socialize with other sad people. Sad people like to bring others down to their levels. So I guess what I’m really trying to say is you should just masturbate instead of taking the risk.

Play With Animals: I don’t mean in a sadistic way either. You should never have animals fight each other. Unless it’s a really cool match-up like a shark versus a lion. I’m not sure how they could ever do that. If you have the chance I think even the head of PETA will give you a pass. They kill their animals anyway. Animals are natural givers of joy. Petting a dog, hugging a cat, or flushing a goldfish down the toilet cannot help but bring a smile to the face of even the most evil person.

(Ever since I was a boy I have been afraid of something attacking me from the toilet. This picture has brought back my rational fear)

Treat Yourself: Whatever it might be, go out and give yourself a treat. Ice cream, a walk in the park, taking a bath, telling your boss to go fuck himself, anything your bleak unwanted heart desires. There’s nothing wrong with you for being depressed. Depression is an emotion. Like happiness, joy, and love. Three things you probably know nothing about. But maybe if you try a little and stop sulking, grab life by the horns, you can find some sense of happiness. Find what makes you happy and do it.

What do you do to cheer yourself up when you’re feeling blue? Don’t say listen to music. I’m making this blog more accessible to the deaf. You’re being insensitive if you go with music. Being insensitive is the last thing you want to be right now as the world is about to come to an end on August 9th.

The third stage of death is bargaining. I’m not sure I could write an entire blog post dedicated to bargaining. I am pretty darn talented, but I find approximately 1,000 words about bargaining to be a tad dry. Since I titled this “bargaining chips” I have decided to write about snack foods like chips for instance. Hey, it was either that or writing about poker chips. Writing about poker means all I do is tell you the story how I fooled some friends into thinking I had no clue how to play and how I won $40 because of it. It’s pretty boring and I think the kid I ripped off is dead now. I really don’t feel like being haunted.

Potato Chips: These tasty treats are made from potatoes. From my understanding they are like French fries but flat. I haven’t had potato chips in a while. I might be slightly wrong. Several flavors of potato chips are made. Popular ones are ketchup, barbecue, pickle, salt and vinegar, and vinegar and salt for stubborn dyslexics. The best thing about potato chips is how salty and crunchy they are. I swear, you put salt on a tire and it would be delicious. I could probably eat an entire family sized pack anytime anywhere. I won’t though. I won’t even buy chips to keep in my home. I know all this will lead to is a 2 AM feast with a 5 AM crying session on the toilet trying to poop it all out.

(My favorite brand of potato chips, Nino. Made from real Spanish children)

French Fries: The more stick shaped version of the potato chip. Also a little softer. Think in terms that a potato chip is like an adult’s skull and a French fry is like a baby’s. French fries are more for people who enjoy a warm snack food. In my lifetime I have eaten a lot of French fries. I qualify things like potato wedges as French fries. They are close enough. For a while after 9/11 Americans called them Freedom Fries. At least in my middle school they did. My principal’s wife cheated on him and her name was Rene so I think this was more of a personal attack on her than it was pride for his country.

(In the yearbook our principal dedicated his letter to the students to “Le Whore.” There was a lot of swearing. He lives in a mental institution now. Women are cruel)

Cheese Doodles: The messiest food out there. Be warned, do not eat these if you have a cut on your hand. Your cut will not only hurt from the cheese particles that enter, you will also look like you gave a carrot an ungloved prostate exam. One year for Christmas the only thing I asked for was a giant container of cheese balls. These are cheese doodles in ball form. What’s great about them is you can roll them on your plate, down your tongue, then through your clogged small intestine from all the fattening foods you digest. I got that giant container. My pediatrician warned salty snacks were the reason before my excessive weight gain. He was Middle Easter so I think he was just jealous that our winter holiday involved great foods while his involved going on a hunger strike.

(He won’t be so happy on day 2 when he wants lunch and has to wait 5 more hours for it)

Mozzarella Sticks: I used to eat mozzarella sticks every other day for lunch. Not because I was limiting myself. I would just go through an entire box at once and my parents couldn’t get to the store every day to feed me. What makes a mozzarella stick great is the cheese inside. I like a somewhat hollow center. Then when the cheese hits your tongue it’s indescribable. I would describe it as tasty. So I guess the taste is describable. I am a liar.

(Lindsay Lohan is kind of like a mozzarella stick. Her blonde her is the overflowing cheese. Her fake overtanned skin is like the crispy outside. Both are also hollow inside. At least mozzarella sticks have souls)

Pretzels: I always felt bad for pretzels. Nobody who has tasted other chips would pick pretzels first. They’re a healthier alternative as they are much lower in fat. I like pretzels and it’s not just a pity thing either. My favorites are this one kind I cannot identify other than by their packaging. This is a problem when shopping in a new place and trying to ask for help. Of course the best part about pretzels is getting to the end. You’ve got an entire bag filled with little salt crystals. Pour it down your mouth. Snort it up your nose. It’s good to get salt in your nose. It helps your sinuses. Pretzels have actually helped me with headaches before. Or maybe I’m a fat drama queen.

(I never thought about it before but maybe I can save calories by snorting the salt straight up my nose. This man is a genius)

Blue Chips: Butthead from Beavis and Butthead summed up those blue chip things the best. “They better not have any of those lame blue chips. Those suck.” I agree Butthead. I think these have lost their luster a bit. I blame Oprah for making them popular. Are they really any better than regular nachos for your body? I doubt it. People who eat blue chips are never in great shape. They’re always women who for some reason you never see eat yet they always maintain a consistent weight. Don’t waste your time with blue chips. Live a little and get a thing of greasy Pringles.

(Not exactly sure what this has to do with snack foods. I’m mostly shocked more people aren’t talking about this cinematic masterpiece)

Crackers: I consider crackers to be very hit and miss. Some are incredibly boring. Others make you want to sell your soul for more. I don’t like plain crackers. Especially not the ones I associate with barfing. Crackers were my go-to food whenever I had a tummy ache. I would eat crackers and drink Ginger Ale. Speaking of which, I really want to go up to a redhead and say “My stomach hurts, I think I need to eat some Ginger” and see if she finds my vulgar advances charming. Probably not. The only thing redheaded girls ever find charming is someone who does not gasp at their David Caruso vagina hairs.

(“Looks like my curtain matches your drapes” is what David Caruso says when disrobing a fellow redhead. Then The Who plays and they have gross Ginger on Ginger sex)

If we determined anything today it is that I am addicted to salt. Looks like my last meal before the end of the world is going to be a spoonful of pure iodine. No wonder I am always incredibly bloated.

The second stage of death is anger. Anger is an emotion. One met with a red face and clenched fists. Angry people can be scary looking. Their voices rise. Their farts seem intolerable. I get angry a lot. Rarely do I shout. I’m more someone who will mutter things under my breath. I cannot tell you how many times I have been pissed at someone and as soon as they turned the corner I gave them the double middle-finger. Some people may say I’m a coward for doing this. I say I’m saving my grandma from fainting.

(Yes I flip off my grandma. She was a Nazi war criminal. She had very little involvement in WWII. If you’re not part of the solution then you’re part of the problem. She’s the one on the right here dining with her college roommate’s boyfriend)

Today I want to talk about things that make me furious. I’ll stay away from topics like murderers, child rapists, and line cutters. These screw-heads are clearly hated by us all. I would like to instead focus on my inane anger issues. The times when even I sometimes think I need to take an anger management class.

1) Not having the bathroom to myself

I hate whenever I go into a public bathroom and other people are in there. I like to do my business in private. Sometimes after peeing I like to lift up my shirt in the mirror and remember what shame looks like. I can’t do that with others around. More than not being alone in the bathroom I hate seeing someone head for the bathroom right before I am. I feel obligated to remain seated for at least a little bit. I don’t want to get into some weird situation where I have to pretend to wash my hands longer than need be because he’s too busy hogging the hand dryer. This happens to me at least once a week. To solve the problem I’m thinking about going back to diapers.

(North Korea’s version of ballet. They get as many people as they can to put Depends on over their clothes then they clap in unison. Diplomacy is no longer an option)

2) People who do not respect personal space

When I say personal space I mean anywhere near me. I do not like people to be present. Whether it be in a car one lane over or in the same theater while I am watching a movie, I hate the presence of others. Sometimes I will hear my neighbors outside talking. Instead of going outside to escape a gas leak I will hide inside until their conversation ends. This is how much I hate others. I would rather suffocate to death than have to exchange pleasantries.

3) Unfriendly cashiers

I gave a cashier a $20 bill for a $14.96 item. He gave me back 4 cents. I asked him where the rest of my money was. He told me I gave him $15. Is there a $15 bill? I was not aware. I imagine picture on this bill is someone like Martin Van Buren or Tipsy Gore (or whatever Al Gore’s wife’s name is). I love a cashier who smiles. I guess when I think about it they’re only happy when they’re ones who can work for tips. The rest always seem as miserable as I am. At least they don’t have to stare at their ugly face like I do.

(Keri Russell is just happy to have work after Felicity went off the air. I bet she only works at this restaurant because Ben comes in frequently)

4) Receiving voicemails on my phone

Whenever I get a voicemail I always get excited. I imagine someone has great news. Such great news that they had to call me to tell me about it. Never do they have anything worthwhile to say. They were either bored or have run out of monthly text messages and have to call me a jackass with their voice. Listening to voicemails is so annoying. My mom used to leave the longest voicemails imaginable. I always gave them two minutes then decided it was best to just call her to have her tell me she saw a deer on television. Please do not leave me voicemails without extremely exciting news. I’m always afraid someone has died and I was taking a poop when you called. Now whenever I poop I will be afraid another loved one will be passing on.

5) When someone is a “good writer” then I read their stuff and don’t get it

I’ll admit, I’m pretty dumb. No, really. I swear! Don’t let the brilliance of this blog fool you. I have a very difficult time comprehending even the simplest tasks. I never used a real toilet until I was 17. My home was not carpeted so we managed. What do I consider a good writer? That’s a hard question to answer. To me good means entertaining and understandable. Less is more. What I hear from others as good can be overly complicated and leads to nowhere. I hate books that are overly descriptive. A story should go somewhere. It should have more to say than whatever the moral of the story is. At the very least I shouldn’t be zoning out thinking about movies. If I’m reading your book and thinking about movies you have not done your job.

6) People who ask too many questions

What qualifies as too many questions? More than one. Young people ask too many questions. It really aggravates me. Some might describe my feelings as being “irked.” Young people have bad instincts so it makes sense. That’s why you always hear about high school kids dying in humorous preventable ways. Go with your gut instead of asking someone for the right way to do a task. If you make a mistake, who cares? Someone else will fix it and correct you. If you’re smart enough you’ll remember forever how to do it right.

(The golden days, back when only boys were allowed to ask questions during class)

Plenty more things in life upset me. I’m going to limit this to 6 because as I said earlier, there are things that make all of us angry. There is no point in me going deeper into them. Plus, the world is coming to an end soon. I have things to do before it does, like find the right kind of diaper to wear.

The first stage of death is denial. Isn’t that what Kurt Cobain keeps saying in Smells Like Teen Spirit at the end? “In denial! In denial!” I’m not sure. Kurt Cobain lacked speaking clearly even without a shotgun down his throat. Denying anyone of anything can be hurtful. You can deny people access to anything. You can deny yourself. Denials are all around us. I denied myself a shower this morning. I need to show up to work smelling as badly as possible. I want to be asked to go home for causing a distraction.

Why do denials happen? Jealousy! I blame everything on jealousy. A girl once denied me her phone number. She was jealous if we ever stood aside one another naked I might show her up. She was flimsily built. Her hair on par to a wet rat’s back. I only asked her for her phone number because she was Amish and I wanted to see if they were allowed to have phones. They’re not. They’re also not allowed to put me down nicely without laughing about it with their friends.

(Stop giggling about Mary turning me down and churn some butter you bitches)

Certain establishments must deny certain people admission. Back in the olden days women and minorities would not be allowed into some businesses. No longer is this the case. Now there are places where women and minorities only go. Women have their Coach Purse stores, their nail salons, and planned pregnancies. Minorities have their rap concerts, fried chicken joints, and cash checking centers. I’m allowed into each of these places. I would rather not go into any of them. Boredom and bullet wounds are always on the horizon. Bars do not allow people under the age restriction into their door. If you’re cute enough you can usually get inside despite being underage. Most bouncers are pedophiles. They only applied for the job because they thought it involved knee bouncing. Knee bouncing, the pedophile’s version of stamp collecting.


Only one building on earth has my picture placed on the wall behind the counter saying I may no longer enter. Next to my picture is one of Nelson Muntz and George Lucas. This place is a restaurant down at the Jersey Shore. During my early standup comedy days I thought being funny was saying words and phrases like “fart”, “vagina”, and “up your ass and around the corner” were a surefire way to get laughs. The owner of this restaurant/comedy club that can seat 20 jerk-offs did not appreciate my attempts at humor. He folded his arms to let me know he was angry and Italian then told me I was not welcome back. Since my email address at the time was Cheekstheclown, they assumed I would be some dorky clown who makes dumb animals. Now my email address is TimBoyle109. Does this mean I’m some dorky idiot mathematician?

(Nope, don’t see me. Why are the two black guys near each other? The one is sandwiched between two Asians. Why, because he can’t do it on his own and he needs some help from the Chinese? Such a racist cover)

I deny people things at times. I deny my dog food all the time. He’s always begging. He should be happy enough I allow him access to my bathroom to sleep in to beat the heat. Right now he’s lying by the front door wanting something. I can’t figure it out. He probably hears the ice cream truck. Christ he’s fat. I also deny people into my life a lot. It’s difficult for me to allow someone new to enter. Meeting someone new is work. You have to get to know everything about them and then accept their flaws. Yuck. It’s frightening. What if they don’t like me? What will they think of my strange moles? What will I think of their strange scars? How long into our friendship do I ask about them? This is why I can never make new friends. I jump too quickly to worry they have some murdering father after them who is coming to finish the job. I do not want to be collateral damage.

(I don’t want him to tug on my hair either. Hair pulling is only for the bedroom. Even then it’s annoying. Stop trying to seem tough. It’s hair. You’re not strong for being able to pull it ladies. It’s decided, I’m shaving my head)

A good undertaking we can all do is to deny less, invite more. Denying anything from your life can have reverse effects. You may binge on whatever bit of whatever it is you deny yourself once you get ahold of it. Most important you should not be in denial about yourself and who you are. This can leave you less aware. You become more vulnerable to the monsters out there in life. Get past stage one of death and this end of the world thing on August 9th will be a lot easier on you.