What’s in my mouth?


You are really thirsty. What do you do about it?

If you think like me, there are usually two options available.

  1. You find a free tap to stick your mouth on to. (No cup means no dishes)
  2. You crack open some Sun-Ripe.

Like most children, my brother and I spent our youth competitively chugging water. Because of this, both scenarios typically involve drinking until it’s physically unsafe to drink anymore.   Doing so on a regular basis encourages stomach flexibility. This, in turn, indirectly promotes belligerence. It also offers unparalleled thirst quenching and, in the case of the juice, a sugar high akin to drinking a few shots of maple syrup. Most of the time, both drink choices end up working out alright.

I didn’t think sucking water out of the tap could be dangerous until I did so at a construction site yesterday. I ended up tasting metal for two hours while nursing dry mouth and a headache the rest of the day. I felt pretty stupid because I know that even though water comes out it doesn’t mean you should drink it. For a split second, I felt like one of those world vision kiddies.

But just like life, things don’t always work out the way you’d like. Some times what you are hoping for doesn’t end up in your mouth. Kind of like telling your girlfriend you just bought a bunch of candy, then playing the “close your eyes and open your mouth” game.

Playing my version of “what’s in my mouth” tends to only happen when I go for the juice.

If you are like me, you probably have multiple kinds of juice in your fridge. You also enjoy recycling your juice containers into makeshift liquor satchels. What you end up with is a game of chance.

You go for the juice, but now you have four possible items in your mouth.

  1.  Juice
  2.  A stiff drink that tasted too bad to finish, but tasty enough to save
  3.  Expired juice
  4.  Straight liquor

I often wake up thirsty. Rolling the dice first thing in the morning is the worst. Try being late for class, thirsty as fuck, and accidently slamming 200-300 mL of Gin at 9am. Luckily, Jimmy’s come equipped with autopilot and liquor doesn’t enter your bloodstream for 30 min.

The stiff drink is slightly worse, because usually you don’t realize before it’s too late. Occasionally you end up with other peoples stuff in your mouth; also not good. Thinking about having someone elses juice in my mouth makes me want to vom.

If you’re lucky you end up tasting that sweet taste of god’s dirty nectar in your mouth you have definitely won the game. Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure being able to enjoy the [forbidden] fruit makes you human. Thanks Eve.

The worst case scenario is when you chug an exorbitant amount of old juice.

I don’t mean juice that is a couple days past its prime. I am talking about that rogue bottle, too bad ass to wear a lid. Or that stinky little Tetrapack with the gaping hole under its plastic mouth spout.

Both situations allow the juice to ferment if left unattended for a few weeks. Depending on the type of juice and the health of your fridge’s eco-system, you are left with some bonus texture in the form or bacteria cultures or mold spores, and a subtle tinge of booze to cut the taste of death.

If it’s not obvious already, this has happened to me more than once. The best way to deal with the after effects of drinking a half liter of foaled juice in less than a second is to vomit immediately or to chase it with straight liquor to kill anything that might be alive.

Needless to say, having this happen to you first hand is a less than desirable situation. It is one of the only ways to lose the game “what’s in my mouth”. To me it would seem obvious that, if given the choice, nobody is knowingly going to pick the micro-ecosystem of spoiled juice to put in their mouth.

Imagine if this is actually what people wanted.

Thankfully we don’t live in a world where sensible minds are in control of product development in the food and beverage industry. We live in a wonderful world where people enjoy eating and drinking all sorts of fucked up health potions.

Never forget there will always be someone there to put something disgusting in your mouth if you want.

The perfect example has gained popularity recently, and is called Kombucha.


For the longest time, I just assumed it was some sort of weird beverage. Naïve to the fact it is literally the same thing as pungent Sun-Ripe, I decided I should give it a chance and try some out for myself.

As I peered into the murky green bottle, the first clue I shouldn’t drink it was pretty obvious. Whatever grows in there is so physiologically advanced that it has grown a complex system of roots to feed itself. I personally have something against drinking advanced life forms.

I shake the fuck out hoping that it’s just natural separation or something normal. At this point I didn’t know that shaking it only makes the mushroom angry.

I take a big drink.

What do you know… it’s actually dirty old juice swimming with bacteria and fungus.

Fuck you Whole Foods.





Fuck Tom Cruise


I just want to start off by saying I think Tom Cruise is a terrible actor.

He’s a short little arrogant fuck. His stupid face in all his movies is the same. I would rather chew off all my fingernails than watch another one of his movies. I will happily donate a kidney to science when he gives up on life.

It is no surprise to me that this guy is a scientologist.

I don’t really know much about scientology other than what I have learned from south park, (s09e12 – 100% must see) which is a perfectly suitable source for such a bogus religion.

I assume The Church of Scientology is a cult that basis their religion off a series of science fiction novels written by L. Ron Hubbard. Strangely enough this turns out to be true. To be fair, the first humans getting possessed with eternal alien souls, “thetans”, really isn’t that much more ridiculous than aliens raping the monkeys of planet earth (assuming it wasn’t consensual).

“Scientology is one of the most controversial new religious movements to have arisen in the 20th century. The church is often characterized as a cult and it has faced harsh scrutiny for many of its practices which, critics contend, include brainwashing and routinely defrauding its members, and harassing its critics and perceived enemies with psychological abuse, character assassination and costly litigation”  -WIKI

This actually sounds like a lot of fun if you are the one in charge. It also explains why the people in power continue to be scientologists. What about the rest of them?

Why would anyone want to be a part of such an organization?

What would it be like to join the church?

These questions burned inside of me for a couple of hours before I made a decision. I just didn’t really want to spend any money on it.

I looked in to it and most of the offered courses were all day extravaganzas costing upwards of $150. I discovered that these courses were designed to improve various aspects of your personality.

I’m sure I have little chink somewhere in my gold crusted personality, and I know that I don’t have the skills to identify where it is and what course would fix it.

I checked their website and luckily, the church offers complimentary personality tests followed by a free consultation of the results.


Right below this was a little button to schedule a test. As it was 4:30pm on Sunday, I figured I could make it there by 5pm.

I walk in to the front doors of a seriously beautiful new building. Sexy buildings get me all fired up.

“How can I help you today?”

“I don’t think I’m living up to my potential and I want to take your complimentary personality test.”

“Certainly sir… right this way.”

He led me to a cubicle with the test booklet laid out in front of me. To keep up with the tradition of being completely insane, I was left with a pen fashioned out of a large feather.


I’m assuming it was a direct order from L. Ron Hubbard himself to force people to use this type of pen.


The Oxford Capacity Analysis (OCA) test classifies personality traits into 10 categories.

  • Stability
  • Happiness
  • Composure
  • Certainty
  • Activeness
  • Aggressiveness
  • Responsible Behaviour
  • Aptitude for Correct Estimation
  • Appreciation
  • Communication Level

So to the average prospective scientologist, this would all seem completely reasonable. The funny part is this test has absolutely nothing to do with anything Oxford related. This includes the university, the dictionary, the city or anyone named Oxford. It was created by a scientologist friend of Ron’s in order to trick people into thinking they are flawed.

L-Ron, you greasy bastard.

There is nothing wrong with being tested on completely normal human characteristics. The problem with this test is how it goes about testing these traits.

“The Oxford Capacity Analysis consists to a high degree of unclearly formulated, ambiguous or misleading questions. It is used as a foundation, in a non-specific way, for an individual evaluation in 11 dimensions, partly incoherent or openly judgmental, as a whole diffuse. In view of the weaknesses also characterizing serious instruments of this type, this instrument must be regarded as completely unreliable.” -WIKI

Instead of giving you clear and well thought out questions you are faced with questions such as:

47. Have you any particular hate or fear?


59. Do you consider the modern “prisons without bars” system doomed to failure?


68. Do you enjoy activities of your own choosing?


75. Are you openly appreciative of beautiful things?


88. If we were invading a country, would you feel sympathetic towards conscientious objectors in this country.


89. Are there some things about yourself on which you are touchy?


98. Would you use corporal punishment on a child aged ten if it refused to obey you?


I actually had quite a good time doing the test and I honestly tried to be about as truthful as I could. I couldn’t wait to find out how terrible of a person I actually am.

I finished the 200 question test in a blistering 35 min. As I sat and waited, I made a few interesting observations about my surroundings. I noticed that all of the staff dressed in some sort of kinky crossbreed between a flight attendant and a sailor. Everyone except for a few old men in suits dressed like this. Creating an uncomfortably sexual ambiance of role playing and pedophilia must be a requirement to become recognized as a religious organization.

I also noticed an amazing looking electronic device at the desk beside me. On the desk was a small sign that said:

“Testing Station”


I spent the next few minutes day-dreaming of scenarios ranging from a good ol’ snatch and run, to an elaborate fire alarm decoy scheme. I just wanted to know what was inside of that sexy little box.

Naturally, I tried to stare at everyone who walked by to let them know I was done their test. A short lady, dressed as a witch, kept pacing back and forth near my booth talking quietly with someone on the phone. At one point I heard her say,

“Just walk up to the instructor and tell him exactly how you feel.”

When would you need to hear this piece of advice from either a witch or a scientologist?

Finally one of the old men in suits caught my eye.

“Who has been helping you out today?”

“I am waiting for anyone to come help me. I finished the test and would love to go over the results.”

His scientology erection pointed in my direction as he came over and shook my hand.

“So how much do you know about scientology?”

“Not very much, but I am eager to learn more.”

I could smell him starting to sweat as he licked his lips.

“This is going to take me a little bit to go through your test results, would you like to watch a few short films on scientology as you wait?”

I will never pass up the opportunity to watch any type of propaganda. I had a feeling this was going to be great. The film was a short biography on the founder, L. Ron Hubbard. It did not disappoint.

The part that impresses me the most is that little Ron could ride a barely broken range bronco at age 3.5.  For obvious reasons, I picture a baby riding around on a full grown horse and burst out laughing.

The video goes on and on about seemingly every possible awesome thing a human could accomplish and attributes them to L-Ron.

Biographical accounts published by the Church of Scientology describe Hubbard as “a child prodigy of sorts” who rode a horse before he could walk and was able to read and write by the age of four. A Scientology profile says that he was brought up on his grandfather’s “large cattle ranch in Montana” where he spent his days “riding, breaking broncos, hunting coyote and taking his first steps as an explorer”. His grandfather is described as a “wealthy Western cattleman” from whom Hubbard “inherited his fortune and family interests in America, Southern Africa, etc.”. Scientology claims that Hubbard became a “blood brother” of the Native American Blackfeet tribe at the age of six through his friendship with a Blackfeet medicine man. – WIKI

The movie tries its best to continue on in sensationalist fashion to try and put him on the same level as Jesus. I don’t think Ron had the gumption to sacrifice himself for all of humanity. For all I know, he could have killed Jesus himself.

By this time my test had been marked. My creepy new friend led me to a different room in the back.

He hands me a chart which graphs my results.


The only score that really bothers me is my ‘H’ score. I’m pretty fucking good at eyeballing. Right there I knew it was all wrong.

“Well looking at the results here, and as you can see it doesn’t look too good. You have a couple areas that are OKAY, but most of your chart is below the ‘acceptable level’ threshold.”

My heart sank as I swallowed the bitter pill of personal imperfection.

“You are right, this chart makes me look like I’m pretty terrible.”

He continues digging asking me more and more uncomfortable personal questions. Finally I get sick of hearing about why I am not an effective person at my place of work. And what type of things make me anxious. You could tell he was just poking around waiting for me to spill the beans about something personal.

“Okay, I get it. It’s clear I need help. What are my options.”

“Well as you can see you test results point to a bleak future if you don’t do something about it. Oh look perfect here is Bob, he’s my boss and he can tell you about a course we offer that would be a great fit for someone like you.”

At this point, I started to get a little bit pissed off. I have been incorrectly stereotyped based on my personality. This is basically racism.

Bob looks a lot like an older, obese Stephen Harper with a bunch of skin tags hanging off his face. I would say he more closely resembles a reptilian than a trustworthy person.

Bob immediately joins in on the verbal abuse after introducing himself.

After he finishes berating me for being Canadian, depressed and anxious, he tells me I should pay him $50 to take a course. Apparently the recruitment strategy is to beat people down with hateful words.

The course is called “Personal Efficiency Course”.

Here is the means to new ability and lasting security in the workplace – all from application of Scientology to the workaday world with “The Problems of Work” by L. Ron Hubbard.

The Personal Efficiency Course contains the senior principles and laws which apply to every endeavour, every problem of work. For they are the discoveries which lay bare the core of these problems and explain the very fabric of life itself.

He explained it was a bargain at $50 because you also get to keep the $20 L-Ron book. Also he mentioned the entire course consists of watching a movie that works through the book.

As much as I was tempted purely for your pleasure, I refused.

On the way out I asked him about the E-Meter and asked if he would show me a demonstration. He said they work kind of like a lie detector but way better. He tried to turn on three different ones, yet none of them would work. My thetans are clearly so powerful, E-meters do not work in my presence.

I left the church more than a little disappointed. Hoping for delusional alien worshipers and all I get is creepy old men who prey on vulnerability.

It rained hard that drive home, both outside and in my heart.

Relaxation and Torture


I decided to try Restricted Environmental Stimuli Therapy, also known as sensory deprivation or floatation therapy. For those of you who aren’t familiar, it’s an easy way to trick you brain into a meditative theta wave state; or a cruel form of torture.

It was invented in 1954 by John C. Lilly to test the effects of sensory deprivation. He had some pretty interesting ideas and also seemed to be a little weird.

“In neurophysiology, there had been an open question as to what keeps the brain going and the origin of its energy sources. One hypothesis was that the energy sources are biological and internal and do not depend upon the outside environment. It was argued that if all stimuli are cut off to the brain then the brain would go to sleep. Lilly decided to test this hypothesis and, with this in mind, created an environment which totally isolated an individual from external stimulation. From here, he studied the origin of consciousness and its relation to the brain” –Wikipedia

Not really surprising he progressed into ripping high doses of ketamine and LSD before floating to try and connect his mind with the heart of the universe.

I have no desire to try either of those drugs, especially while floating in a dark, coffin-like vessel. Something about that screams potentially terrifying experience.

I started reading reviews on the subject and found a whole range of hilarious testimonials. They ranged from really interesting to the totally deranged. A large proportion of the testimonials seemed to come from people who smoke dandelions and post daily updates regarding the crisis at Fukashima. Not all the reviews were positive; I even found one person who didn’t seem to enjoy themselves at all.

“The second I switched off that glowing blue light, my pleasant flying feeling vanished and my mind turned to thoughts of snakes. Hundreds of tiny snakes writhing under and around me. I wasn’t on drugs and I’ve never before had a pronounced phobia of snakes, but there I was, trapped in a bathtub filled with snake fear, tepid water, and the sound of my own terrified panting.” – Stranger

Other reviews seemed to be more sincere and thought provoking.

“It’s like a million annoying voices whinging inside your head 24/7 finally shut the fuck up. And for the first time you realise that those voices existed at all, because you had never heard the sound of them not being there. You realise that noise that fills your head are not your thoughts. It’s just the echo of the shitty outside world seeping inside your head making you believe the things it wants you think.” – Reddit

All of them made me want to try even more.

I remember hearing Joe Rogan rant about how awesome these tanks were a couple years ago but forgot about the topic due to the scarcity of float clinics in Canada.

I came across my first float clinic while on my daily pilgrimage to find the best sandwich in Seattle. From the outside it looked like a cross between a sensual massage parlour and a yoga studio.

Although I had heard about these things before, I fucking lost it when I looked at the pricing. For a 45 minute float, you pay them $95. Yes, you pay almost a hundred dollars to sit in a glorified, enclosed bathtub for less than an hour.

So instead of getting some ol’ fashion cock work at the rub-n-tizzug, you can have a salty bath. My favourite part on their promotional brochure was that they are open late on weekends. That means if timed properly, and set up in advance, you would be able to hit the tank at 2am and release all the toxic liquor sludge out of your skin and meditate for a good part of an hour. To me it sounded like a potentially good way to stay healthy while offering a rare opportunity to reflect on your poor decisions before passing out.

I walk away laughing, trying to picture myself telling da boys I scheduled a salty bath for the way home.

I got back to my office and found a different float centre near my house that offers a $40 first time package for a 1hr float. I checked their schedule and lo and behold, an opening for 9pm. Before I had a chance to think rationally, I booked the slot and paid for it in advance.

I have to admit, the concept of tossing 1000lbs of salt into a little pool of water to simulate the sensation of floating in space is a pretty cool idea. Especially if you are doing so wearing earplugs, in complete darkness, in a giant sound proof coffin, in water set to the same temperature as your body.

I was led into a small room with a shower and a large meat freezer looking tank by a friendly attendant who gave the impression he works full time at a float clinic. He explained all the things I was supposed to do. You have to shower before and after the tank. He explained what shampoo and soap were along with some kind of wax you can place on open cuts and a small vile of an alcohol and vinegar solution which I can only assume you are supposed to drink.  He said a bunch of other stuff too but I was too excited to pay attention properly.

I wish I was better at listening.

I peeled off my clothes and had quick shower before getting ready to get in the tank. I shut off the lights in the room and opened the door to the chamber. Soft blue LEDs illuminate an interior of what looked like garbage bags glued to the walls. As I try to ignore the dexter-esqe potential of the murder chamber I’m entering, I gracefully slip in and flip onto my back.


When I say graceful I mean flop on back like a fucking Nestea commercial. I took the plunge like a damn boss. As I smashed my head off the hard ground, I wondered why my friendly attendant didn’t mention the bathtub was only 10 inches deep. Perhaps this was his revenge for my clearly inattentive blank stare during his opening spiel.

I immediately shut off the lights to try and maximize my time in the coffin.

As promised, I am suddenly overpowered with powerful emotions. Unfortunately for me, it’s in the form of severe pain. I quickly noticed that I forgot to put the wax on my freshly skinned knuckle. I spent the first few minutes trying to block out the acute stinging before deciding I should probably get out. I felt like such a pussy having to get out after 3 minutes. I shit you not, those three minutes of pain were spent deciding whether or not anyone could tell I had to get out early. A small cut on my finger wasn’t about to ruin it for me. I turn on the lights in the tank and opened my eyes. The cut quickly became the least of my worries. After blasting my head off the ground, my face had become covered in super saturated salt water

Much like an open wound, I quickly learned how much your eyeballs dislike salty substances (sorry ladies). Blinded, I frantically waved my limbs around under the outside hatch looking for the emergency water sprayer. I sprayed the cold water directly in my pupils.

I still had the vision of an elderly dog with salty cataracts so I was barely able to stumble over to the wound wax. Blind and retarded, I obviously put way too much goop on my cut. I end up with it all over both my hands. I then remembered I didn’t have any way to clean it off other than my clean towel.

Naturally I say fuck it, and hop back in the tank. I slide back in carefully this time to avoid repeat concussions.

I finally got to relax for a bit and let my mind wander. I try and stretch out to find a good position where I am not using any effort to keep my eyes out of the water.

The first thing I notice as I lay there weightless is that my body has never felt that useless. It was a new frontier for my mangled up frame. My body seemed more eager to twitch and spasm than it did to relax. I also had a strange sensation of feeling the weight of the air above my body more than the pressure from below.

Next I decided to try and do some of the weird poses that my helpful attendant mentioned beforehand. He suggested I put my hands above my head and throw my back into one of those gold medal Chinese gymnast poses.

“You’ll never forget that first time when you’re looking behind you like that man. I swear it never gets old”

He was right!

As I arch my back and cock my neck back, my forehead dips into the water and I experienced some weird form of meditative vertigo that was akin to lying on the ground after receiving a hard blow to the head. I mean that in the best way possible.

The unforgettable part came after when I remembered reading a testimonial before my float.

“The most amazing part comes when you are able to open your eyes in complete darkness. Powerful, emotional hallucinations overpower your body and mind as you float in peaceful serenity.”

I obviously had to try this.

I slowly open my eyes, wary of the potential salt bombardment I faced early, and quickly found this review to be slightly embellished.

For the first 2 seconds I start to see some pulsating pockets of light not unlike the after effects of staring into a laser pointer or the sun. Much like staring at the sun, my eyes quickly erupted into a salty blaze once again. This time it felt as though there was rock salt being rammed into my tear ducts.

I knew the light wouldn’t help me this time. I sat up and blindly started reaching up for escape hatch. I was incredibly disorientated and managed to ram both hands into the burning hot space heater above.

Here I was, lucky enough to have all my fingertips burnt while Satan chucked loads of fire jizz into my eyeballs; truly an unforgettable experience.

I made my way out of the tank for the second time and attempted to clean out my eyeballs once again. This time the damage was done and I could feel the inflammation growing in and around my eyes. I decided to just keep my eyes closed the rest of the time.

I flopped back in the tank and got water directly in my nose. Like an idiot, I sniffed the water in further instead of blowing out. Don’t ask me why I did this, I have no idea. Regardless, the salt water was so potent it slowly rendered my nasal passages useless.

I was actually able to get reasonably relaxed listening and focussing on my breathing before the pulsating sensation of oxygen deprivation kicked in from not being able to breathe properly.

I got to spend the last bit of my float panting like a dog, enjoying my severely inflamed tear ducts with saltwater dripping into the back of my throat through my nearly fully constricted nasal passages.

The weird part was that once I got out and showered, I felt extremely relaxed and fresh.  I felt content with the world around me. It feels like walking around in post coital bliss. I can only imagine this effect would be even more pronounced if the time inside the tank didn’t resemble a sadistic torture chamber experience.

Trying again soon

Creationism, Evolution and Bestiality


My Theory of Life

There is clearly life in the universe. I am alive… you are alive… things are alive. This life came from somewhere, or maybe it is just a thing. Human beings were probably not the first forms of life in the universe. We were not even the first forms of life on this earth.

People are conscious, self-aware, intelligent creatures. Most of the other shitty animals around us do not really have anything figured out in comparison to us. They all have different skill sets, but for the most part they stick to instinctual acts like eating, sleeping and banging.

Some animals are widely known to be smarter and craftier than the rest, mostly the ones at the top of the food chain. You have animals like dolphins, bears, big cats, wolves, horses, elephants and monkeys who are clearly smarter than the other animals that surround them.

This begs the question… Which one would you rather bang?

Seriously… from a logical, bio-evolutionary point of view, if you had to make a new species with any animal, which one would you choose?

Bears are terrifying, if you could inseminate a bear, your baby would look like a demon. I can imagine trying to poke a bear is generally a poor idea.

Cougars, lions and tigers are all really fast. You would make a fast cat-child.  The drawback is cats can’t carry anything heavy. They can’t because they have weak little spines and shitty hands, also, probably scary to bang.

Wolves, again, shitty hands, scary to bang, kind of creepy.

Dolphins are supposedly smart but who really gives a fuck about some kind of fat little ocean snake with teeth and no arms. A dolphin is absolutely useless out of the water. I am going to go ahead and say I would rather live on land than in the water.

Although mullets are cool and people are already having sex with horses out there; I would not want my offspring to have a gangly-ass neck and permanent uncomfortable shoes.

Half elephant children might be cool. I’m sure its fun to have a face dick that can grab stuff but whatever. I’m also going to assume that inseminating an elephant would not be a one man job.

Monkeys have hands. Monkeys are smart. Monkeys can climb shit. A monkey would not be overly challenging to bang.

If you ask me, I would hypothetically choose to bang a monkey.

If your still reading you must be wondering what the fuck I’m talking about at this point. Stay with me, I’ll get to the point soon.

There are two predominant theories on the origin of man; Darwin’s Theory of Evolution and Jesus’ Theory of Creationism.

Both are a little fucked up if you ask me.

It’s too bad the majority of creationists I read about are such close-minded, arrogant assholes. They are pretty close to explaining the origins of man but just have to believe god created the world in seven days, 10000 years ago. This could or would never happen. Why would anyone be so hasty in the creation of a damn planet. If you were god, wouldn’t you take your sweet time? The earth is billions of years old, not thousands. Ignoring that fact, their story on the creation of man goes as follows. God is hanging out getting all bored with the stupid animals he created a while back. He decides it might be a good idea to get some brains down there on earth. In comes Adam and Eve. God looked in the mirror, made himself, then made a hot babe he would want to bang and blew some life into the both of them. I see this as the most plausible way this would happen if god is a cool as people say. It also seems completely unrealistic based on the established laws of science. I do not disagree that there is some higher form of energy out there. I just have trouble believing anyone could build a human, even god. We are astoundingly complex machines.

The other theory out there is evolution. I feel like evolution generally makes a lot of sense. It does not really explain how life came to earth in the first place, but you can fill in the blanks. Considering we know that life does exist, it’s logical to assume that some sort of single celled organism was attached to some asteroid frozen temporarily in the icy rock core. When it smashed into earth, he probably just crawled out and started his new life on earth. It could have just ended up on earth randomly in the creation of our planet. Regardless how that little guy ended up here is irrelevant, the point is he lived on.

Continually faced with new challenges on his new home, he was forced to grow and adapt. In doing so, his offspring gradually changed and became more comfortable in their surroundings. This is evolution. This mostly explains the current mix of animals and bugs when you consider it happening over a billion years or so.

Why are we the only ones to evolve so far and beyond our surrounding peers? Humans have effectively gained control of the earth. Never in history has there been such a dominant form of life that literally has the power to fuck over everything else. Historically, creatures on top of the  food chain left each other alone because the meat wasn’t worth the chase.

You can point to evolution to explain how we came from monkeys and gradually got smarter to adapt to our changing environments. It would make a lot more sense if all the other types of animals did the same.

One theory is that monkeys stumbled upon psilocybin mushrooms in the jungle. The monkey which ate the mushroom mostly likely freaked the fuck out. He would have hallucinated a whole bunch and had some crazy thoughts. It would have forced monkeys to think about things that are not real and also developed an abstract world view. This powerful moment was likely the catalyst for ‘human’ evolution.

I still do not see monkeys being the only animals trying out mushrooms. As soon as Mr. Tiger saw Mr. Monkey chow down, I’m assuming he would follow suit, strictly because that’s how life works.

There is a better explanation for all of this. The evolution of intelligent life did not happen on Earth. It seems too weird that everything else is so stupid. I think that on some other world, intelligent life forms developed over billions of years.

I believe that consciousness was a gift to us from aliens.

I imagine when they developed technology they would have done the same thing as what we are trying to do now. Find hospitable planets. Next, when possible, they would attempt to travel to said planets.

They probably started off living on a world like ours. Like us they would have made discoveries along the way about how to extract more energy from the world they live in. Inevitably they sucked all the life out their planet in the thirst for higher technology. The saving grace for them is that high technology gave them the capability to leave.

Their bodies would’ve evolved to adjust to their surroundings. I suspect they these aliens lived in controlled environments, augmented by technology that did all the work for them. This would leave them hairless, weak and incredibly smart.

They would have known their world was ending.

It seems feasible that they would have detected earth and traveled to it, without knowing what to expect. I imagine they arrived thousands of years ago and stumbled upon a natural habitat not unlike the one we currently live in. There would have been a shit load more nature, less destruction, and no humans. The wildlife would have been more diverse, but generally the same is what we have now.

I think these hairless, googly-eyed, smart-ass aliens looked around and quickly realized they did not have the body to survive in our harsh climate. On a strange new world, they lacked the tools to industrialize and develop all the abundant resources. They needed to get stronger.

Obviously the aliens had a complete understanding of genetics. If we know as much as we do now, imagine what we would know in 10000 years if we don’t fuck up.

This brings us back to the “which animal would you rather bang” scenario.

I think the aliens chose the monkey and cloned it with themselves. Their aim would have been to preserve their own consciousness but host it within a more capable, primitive body.

They created Adam and Eve.

Who knows if they are still here. I feel like if I had a cool project like making a new race, I would have some sort on invested interest to help it out along the way. Or maybe it’s their consciousness that lives inside of us to this day.

I think that periodically throughout history, humans have been nudged in the right direction through the development of new technology. I doubt they do this directly, otherwise I think we would know more about them.

If our own consciousness was a gift from them, could it not seem plausible that they could affect it how they see fit?

You never know though, that world changing invention could have just been a random thought.

Butter and coffee



 “Hey Kevin, your coffee looks fucked up.”

 “Yeah, might have something to do with the all the butter I mixed in.”


Yeah that’s right, instead of cream, I’ve once again started to use butter in my coffee. Two or three tablespoons of butter plopped right in the middle of my morning coffee. This works out to roughly 500 bonus calories. So by the time you sucked back your nasty cereal, I’m starting lunch. That’s called getting ahead.

The benefits of this little bit of butter are huge. You feel awake and full all morning. More alert and less worried about lunch means you get way more done. I used to get hungry around 10:30am, now I’m barely hungry by noon. As long as you don’t mind feeling like you have fat stuck in your lymph nodes for a couple hours, you should be okay with buttered coffee.

Much like a car, your body converts the energy stored in food to more useful forms of energy. For me, it is mostly brain power and flexing my ass cheeks to a catchy tune. So really, why not load it up with energy? How many times have you been pissed off at too much gas in your car?

It’s actually too bad our body can’t digest gasoline better because it really could solve a bunch of problems. One cup of gasoline has roughly 1900 calories. You could literally survive off a small cup of gasoline a day if your pussy ass little organs weren’t so frail. Talk about innovative ways to address the global food crisis.

I don’t want to hear your bullshit about butter not being healthy. You clearly need better butter. If you are bold enough to follow my lead, you have to get the right butter. Find yourself some high quality butter from cows who only eat grass. This is an extremely important piece of the puzzle.

Cows are massive. They also have 4 stomachs. They are basically designed by god himself to suck all the good green stuff (nutrients) out of grass. Why do you think their shit isn’t green?

Just like you, cows eat grass and shit waste. Everything else the cow ends up building into its massive frame, with the exception of its milk. Your milk quality is a continuous representation of your body’s health because it is made with whatever you eat. Don’t believe me? Go a couple days of only eating Mcdoubles and drinking Old Milwaukee and give your milk a sniff. The same thing happens to cows.

Think about this scenario… You are out getting drunk in the forest and you meet two cows. Things are going good and you seem to have a good connection with both cows. After a couple more drinks, you find out one cow only eats grass and the other cow only eats garbage. End of the night comes along and you have to choose which tit you are going to suckle on for the night… the garbage cow, or the grass cow. Which cow are you going to pick?

This is essentially what you are doing when shopping for butter in the grocery isle and to a lesser extent, picking up ladies at the bar. So smarten the fuck up, don’t pick the garbage cow and load up your coffee with the good shit. 



Look how healthy that shit looks.

You might not know this by now, but kale is superfood. This does not mean super tasty food as I foolishly once assumed. It means that it is super good for you. Beyond this blanket statement of being healthy, I really have no idea how kale affects my body, nor do I really care. All I care about is how much of those leafy bastards I can stuff into my gut because they are going to make me healthy.

Mentioning my explicit consumption levels of kale to people is met with two different types of responses every time. Here is how my conversations usually play out.

Me – “I usually try and pound back a bundle of kale every day.”

Simple1 –  “Oh that’s great, kale is so healthy!”

Me – “Ya I know.”

Foodie2 – “It’s not good to eat that much raw every day you should cut back to a few times a week. They’re super high in oxalates! Don’t want you getting kidney stones”

 Me – “I hear those little fuckers feel pretty good, probably healthy to give the ol’ jap eye a good stretch once an a while anyways.”

To be honest, my body is generally pretty fucked already so a bunch of rocks coming out of my cock wouldn’t be the end of the world; especially when I’m sitting in my castle at 104 years young. I’m ready to make minor sacrifices to get superfood benefits.

When I eat a head of kale it doesn’t make me feel healthy. Regardless of what I decide to do after, I usually feel like shit. That being said, some post-kale activities are far worse than others.

I once decided to eat an entire bunch immediately before setting out on on an evening jog. It seemed like a great idea at the time. How about I combine the health benefits of kale and running! I made it roughly 2 km from my house before I realized that something might be wrong. The spring in my step abruptly disappeared as my gut became a makeshift war zone. My body was preparing for battle against the influx of leafy greens splashing around inside.

At first, I thought i was going to shit myself for sure. I was now 2km away from a toilet and not happy about it. I could either run faster and risk leakage or slow down and risk a major blow out. As I sped up to a full on shit sprint, that crafty fucking kale went for a sneak attack.

If you have ever seen someone with their asshole clenched projectile vomit a head of kale at full sprint, you either have awesome friends or you were living in Kitsilano during the summer of 2013. This was one of those scenes that would have been appalling for a stranger but hilarious for any of your friends to witness.

I made it home without shitting myself. That night, it became clear running was far too dangerous for me. Kale remains an important part of my healthy lifestyle.