Here it was, and there it went... Christmas 09. Did it meet all expectations? Yes. Did it disappoint? No. Was there diarrhea? Only time will tell. So now the only question that remains is, will there be a Christmas twenty ten? Will December 25, MMX, arrive in full force, like the strengthened squeeze of a widening womb, or will it simply not come at all, like a man suffering with ED (too far?)? My bet is on the latter. Here's why:
The Approaching Apocalypse.
Scared of 2012? HA! That's a good one. Are we really going to trust the predictions of a society who couldn't even overcome such simplistic diseases as "typhus" or "malaria" (more like malari-no)... I think not! Besides, they didn't even have crystal balls, so clearly they could not see the future. The only balls they had were made of skin and played with in large groups. I'm pretty sure if I was playing with skin-balls I wouldn't be able to tell what meal I was going to have next, let alone when the end of the world would occur. No, no, no. What we have to worry about is 2010. You know why? Because half of 20 is 10, therefore it can only be assumed that exactly half of the year will occur before the total and utter destruction of Earth as we know it (or at least the impoverished nations that don't have TLC to guide their every day lives).
So here's the deal. At the halfway point of 2010, occurring on August 18 at 6:10 p.m. (that's 20:10 for all of you who don't know how to calculate the 24 hour clock on your own), everyone who has not been graced with the wisdom of Ty Pennington and Kate Gosselin will be killed by Spanish conquistadors, who will in turn be killed by old world diseases, because the way I see it, the end of the world should be as ironic as possible.
In truth, the only way one can survive TLC Day (the Total Lambaste of Civilization Day) is to, in fact, watch TLC each and every moment for the next 8 months. There will be so many baby stories, and so much redecoration, that you will be spared annihilation by the Spanish conquistadors AND tyhparia (they will have merged as one SUPER old world disease by this point), and be left to repopulate each and every corner of this godforsaken earth.
I hope to see you each and every one of you (but mostly the attractive ones. Let's make the new human race sexy.) next Christmas, and I hope each and every one of you (see above) will be doing your part in the repopulation. And just remember, as TLC teaches us...
Life Surprises...
And also putting your 8 children on T.V. will end in divorce and years of countless therapy sessions for the adolescents.
Those skin-ball men will have no idea what hit them.
As I was casually playing Pokémon FireRed on my VisualBoyAdvance emulator, I heard the noise that I have become all too accustomed with, and looked up in time to see a brown heathen dart from behind my laundry basket into the hall. I thought I had made it up... perhaps the glory of Raticate's Hyperfang during my battling had rubbed off on me a bit too much. After a quick jaunt with Isaac brandishing a broom as I skirted away like a pre-pubescent girl, I returned to my room in attempts to sleep away the thought of any rodent. That is, until they started scampering, once again, with their little demon feet, attached to their little demon body, and their tiny little demon heads with their disease infested demon mouths.
