You see a lot of funny stuff riding around Sacramento. Seagulls and Jews. God is gay. Hubbard Dianetics. It makes my brain laugh really hard while my face remains subdued. Sometimes I pretend my regular bike is a motorcycle and I'm in the desert apocalypse of a George Bush-less future, shooting zombies with my shotgun and having sex with android hookers because all the women die. It's a real pisser of an apocalypse.
Sometimes I think about the crazy cracker Daniel Pinchbeck who wrote that book 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl and how he thinks that the Mayans knew what they were doing by giving us humans a spiritual expiration date. I don't think anything monumental will happen on December 21, 2012—and if it does, the server that this blog will be imprinted on, as well as all of those who read it, will be lost in an inconceivable limbo.
I'd like to think that something much cooler will happen instead of the paranoid delusions of Nazi hellfire brought forth by Charlie Manson WMD's. No, I'd like to see a reboot of the planet, where animals double in populous and males and females become one (known as fales) in a realm where death and creation are dubbed, "out of fashion." A world where jobs are laughable institutions and hot dogs taste like you haven't had one in five years, even if you eat one right after the other. A world where masturbation is as good, or even better than sex (mainly because of the male/female cross-hybridnation idea). A world where we forget what we forgive.
Then I think—damn Mayans! You could have at least waited until after Christmas.
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