Things That Will Definitely Happen This Year

      Ladies and gentlemen, the new year is upon us. We've waited...well, all year for this. Okay, that's a stretch, some of us have. A lot of us don't give a shit what year it is, still others don't know what year it is and there are other still, who haven't stopped drinking since last new years. Regardless, it's here again, planting it's fat, drunken baby ass on our faces...and sharting. Before it does that, I think it's a good idea to prepare a little bit, so, we don't commit the same asshole crimes against ourselves as we did this year. Don't worry, I'm not talking about resolutions you'll make and fail at (Stop masturbating? Really?). Truth be told, we secretly suck at everything, even improving ourselves, let's not dwell on that. Instead, let's talk realism for a moment. Converse about some shit that will probably happen, whether we like it or not, in doing so, maybe we won't spontaneously vomit/get arrested/shart ourselves when it happens.

Pictured: Vomit sharting.

So, in no particular order, things that will happen, whether you want it to or not. Don't panic...

You're not going to win the lottery!

Any fucking day now...this is me! 

Just another silhouette jumping in 

front of flying money! 

      I know it sucks to hear, but, you'll get over it. I felt the same way for a couple of seconds, all broken up, like the universe was slowly spooling out, a long drawn out "fuck you" torture. The kind that seems to have lasted and will last...eons. Then, I searched for bouncing tits on the internet and everything was alright. It may not be the same as winning the lottery, but, it helps. Look, maybe, it's time to let it go, the lottery that is. Should you pay for a dream that will statistically never happen? If you are willing to do that, shouldn't it be a dream you can end with a feeling of satisfaction and is statistically possible? Something almost guaranteed, like, banging a hooker or slapping a puppy? Now, is this suggestion going to stop you from pissing away money on the lottery? No. Just remember that you're not going to win and you'll be fine. Because I'm going to win...and that's all that matters. 

The world will not end.

I can see my house from here!

      Contrary to popular belief...the Mayans can't and didn't predict shit. The world ending in 2012 bullshit. It's another in an endless line of Earth ending predictions that, much like our ability to elect competent leaders, will fail in a brilliant blaze of...nothing changing. It will come and go like so many beer shits. I'm incredibly sorry to disappoint you. If you need the world to end this year, put a gun in your mouth, pop some pills or o.d. on Lunesta...or which ever has the nifty glowing butterfly. Feel free to end your own world any way you like, because the Mayans aren't going to do it for you. The Mayans couldn't predict the Spanish from raping their culture via conquistador, they couldn't predict whitey taking California away from future wild west Mexico and they couldn't predict Mexico's biggest exports being weed, sombreros and land scapers either. Why is that? Oh, because they were dumb shits...just like us. Which, in a round about way leads me to another thing that won't happen...

There Will Be No Flying Cars!

"You have to what? Fuck, just piss out the window!"

      I'm still fucking pissed about this. Where the fuck are the flying cars?! They were supposed to be here by now. That and everything having a damned laser...for what ever reason...and intercoms. Sorry, a lot of my expectations on the future came from the Jetsons. I apologize, but, still. This is the future! Our diminished ability to wait and our shortened attentions spans ache for it. Shit should have happened by now! Wait. Not yet. Is anyone else tired of this shit? We were promised bigger and better things! What do we get? The same shit we always get: non-floating houses, non-holographic porn and no robots. We have so suffer with  greedy financial corporations ass raping our retirement and economy. Why? So that they can get blown by hot hookers in cars God couldn't afford. Dammit. I want to get blown by hot hookers in expensive automobiles too...with lasers. I'd love for it to happen while making an incredible amounts of money for doing nothing. Oh, that's not going to happen either by the way. You'll have to work at a shit job this year too and...unfortunately, forever. No fun filled future or fiscal salvation, at all, for you in the coming year, I'm afraid. Unless you have a wealthy relative teetering on the edge of death's abyss, who loves giving money to poverty stricken relatives...you're staying poor, so, deal with it. Oh, and your shit car is still going to need a fucking road! Speaking of cars...

Prepare To Get Fucked At The Gas Pump

Picture that red line going straight up your ass. 

      Before all the bitching starts and all the "Can you believe this shit!" news stories start rolling out, let's get ahead of the game. Gas is going to go up this year...again. Just like last year. People in the oil producing countries aren't going to stop fighting anytime soon, not until Yehovah, Jesus, Allah, Buddha and all of those Hindu gods finally have a fight to the death, last deity standing takes all cage match that we've been asking for. It's time to wake up a little bit. Stop your "What the fuck!" faces when you pull up to the "dollar more than yesterday" gas pumps. Just get it out of the way now, while you're in your underwear, amid the soft glow of the internet. I won't look, nor will I tell, I promise. Get it all out now if you have to, no one wants to hear it later. You could avoid all the hassle and get an electric car, like that Leaf thing everyone keeps yammering about...or a Prius, which is shaping up to be the coolest car for pussies this side of a pink Caddy made of dildos. Aside from the money you'd convert from gasoline to insane electricity bill, what's awesome about it? You plug it in. Great. Wait until places of business and your job wise up and start charging you for outlet usage. It's going to happen electric car folks! Get your free juice now, because you're going to have to pony up some dough or do some serious deep throat cock sucking to get it free later. Wait. You'd be paying with the cock sucking. So...not free. You're bright, you get what I mean. You're going to have to pay out the ass for something, it ought to be something you already have too much money invested in anyway, like that gas to pollution converter you're cruising in now. If it will help, start cutting out all those erroneous trips to Walmart. The one or two item trips. You know what I'm talking about. Did you really need Larry The Cable Guy on Blu-ray and a Lunchable at 2am? Stick to at home, anti-social, depression fueled alcoholism and save some money. 

It'll save some dignity too. 

      So, buck up, flappy nuts, it's going to be a bumpy ride into 2013. We have presidential elections, horrific human rights violations and a slew of celebrity weddings and divorces to go through, smile! It can't be worse than it already is, right? Ah, fuck it, who are we kidding. We're on the soft shoulder on the highway to hell and sliding into a big pile of steamy donkey shit mixed with failure. It's okay, I'm there too...only crying, because I forgot to shit before I left.

Where's a cop car when you need one?

Walk With The Dead And Dream!

      The Walking Dead starts up again this Sunday. If you don't know, it's a show about trying to survive during a zombie apocalypse. So, a show made to scar children. I have been amped up for this show since it started. It's well written and the zombies look fantastic. The quality of how the zombies look is important. It's very easy to go cheap with things like that. A lot of zombie movies make that mistake. Cheapening up the look of the zombies. It's like substituting Kellogg's Frosted Flakes for some shitty store brand. Technically the generic brand is frosted flakes, but, tastes like sugared up drywall mixed with disappointment, regret and shame. I digress. To celebrate such a mundane affair as a series season premiere. I thought I'd psychoanalyze my own innate fear of zombies.

Un-dead Zombie...not Voodoo Zombie. 

Though, I wouldn't want to run into this guy in a dark alley.

Doll carriers are capable of anything.

      I indeed have a fear of zombies. I would qualify that to say that it's not necessarily the zombies themselves, but, the dread the situation they present fills me with. Like one of those urban legends you hear about a rock star's stomach being filled with cum. Only with this, rock star is me, the cum is abject fear of impending doom and the thing responsible for the fear spooge is looming zombie dismemberment. Just so we're straight. I'm a rock star filled with zombie encroachment spooge. Wait, not that I'm blowing zombies, like the rock stars. No. Wait. Not that rock stars blow zombies. Zombies blow...encroaching rock stars...the cum is...isn't...not-hm...spank? Dammit. 

 Zombies get me kind of like this, but with lots of pee pee and 

a large amount of shit in my pants...and uh...no cum.

      I can watch a show about them and be entertained, grasping fully that zombies don't and are incapable of existing, however. It's what my mind does with zombies. Turns them into reality nightmare fuel. I have dreams where I imagine myself in a zombie crowded situation, be it in the classic boarded up house or the trashed wing of a hospital. Then, the poorly constructed barrier's break and there I am, gunning away while the house/room/hosipital wing/adult book store is consumed by walking dead ladies and gents. It fills me with a sense of being absolutely, unequivocally fucked. 

Fucked.

      So, I get this hopeless, closing in feeling of being completely fucked, in every nightmare I have about these fucking things. Why is that? I sort of think the zombies represent the concept of "death" for me in a way. As I am a slow witted simpleton, I have appropriated a group of walking dead men to symbolize death bearing down on me. I'm not creative. This doesn't feel like an satisfactory answer, however. For during my non-panicked nightmare hours, I distinctly have a feeling of not fearing death. I realize the futility in fear it. It's inevitable. I understand that. Though, I won't know until the day, if I'll react that way, right? I mean, anyone can talk a good game but, when it comes down to the wire, none of us know. 

A pan and a plan of attack is the knee jerk reaction sure...

      Is death's inevitable arrival veiled as zombie encroaching finality in my head? Possibly. I do seize up and sweat, like a priest at a molestation trial, at the thought of zombies taking me the fuck out. Overall, it only seems to partly fit. Perhaps, their promulgation to end my existence isn't the message of death approaching. It's eminent failure they represent. Those fetid corpses walking toward me, closing in. That's failure. An all encompassing end to whatever it is I am or will be doing...forever. Shit. Maybe it's a combo of them both, death and failure. I know for certain that when I watch them on t.v. I don't shit my pants. I think it's kind of cool. So, what the hell's with that?

Zombie-rific!

      Maybe in watching the representation of my fear of failing or of death...or both, in a television facsimile,  I distance myself or own the fear in some way. Who knows for sure. I'll have to find a psychiatrist that'll work for dick jokes and spare change one day. They might help me sort it all out. There will be a lot of Kleenex used for tears instead of masturbation that day. Until then, I'll keep watching zombies consume humanity with a perverse sense of wonder. The apocalyptic grandeur they leave in their wake teasing a smile from deep within, because after all, it's not me their devouring. It's a stupid bastard that failed at a fucking head shot.

In the head...ALWAYS in the head. Dumb ass.