Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Hermit Crabs and other redundancies
The internet is like a cow. A big, motherly cow. You go up to it and you say "Hello, mother. I am your calf. Here I am between your knee and your ankle. Care for me. Pour me a glass of milk. Soy, please. I'm vegan." Then you look up at it with those adorable huge eyes that baby animals all have and exploit so effortlessly, and you blink once, your eyelashes taking twelve seconds to make the trip. She turns her head toward you for a moment, chews, and kicks you in the face. So you become an outcast, making your way through life looking over your shoulder with despair and ugliness. Oranges go out of their way to fall on your head. Traffic lights turn red with embarrassment when they see you. Something about your vibe makes all your fleas commit suicide. Finally, you end up in a seedy grain shop making puns like that. And just when you think you've hit rock bottom, in walks the intercow, sidles up to you, and says, "I'm sorry... was that your face i kicked back there? My fault. You look just like the 'get the party started' button." So then the two of you go back to the barn and find the real button, and just to be safe, she lets you kick it yourself. In a mere two-cents worth of time, the party gets started.
But they make you leave, because you're vegan.
The internet is like a cow. A big, motherly cow. You go up to it and you say "Hello, mother. I am your calf. Here I am between your knee and your ankle. Care for me. Pour me a glass of milk. Soy, please. I'm vegan." Then you look up at it with those adorable huge eyes that baby animals all have and exploit so effortlessly, and you blink once, your eyelashes taking twelve seconds to make the trip. She turns her head toward you for a moment, chews, and kicks you in the face. So you become an outcast, making your way through life looking over your shoulder with despair and ugliness. Oranges go out of their way to fall on your head. Traffic lights turn red with embarrassment when they see you. Something about your vibe makes all your fleas commit suicide. Finally, you end up in a seedy grain shop making puns like that. And just when you think you've hit rock bottom, in walks the intercow, sidles up to you, and says, "I'm sorry... was that your face i kicked back there? My fault. You look just like the 'get the party started' button." So then the two of you go back to the barn and find the real button, and just to be safe, she lets you kick it yourself. In a mere two-cents worth of time, the party gets started.
But they make you leave, because you're vegan.
