Your heart pumps blood.: February 2010

Friday, February 26, 2010

Three Hundred and Thirty Five...

The Sun devours the Earth, instantly incinerating every form of matter on the planet. No one drives into Taco Bell to buy the NBA Big Box. No one watches American Idol. Nothing the Jersey Shore girls say matter. NBA championships are all forgotten. TV is over. All historical works of literature are eliminated. Wars end. Toyota never fixes their accelerators. Environmental conservation becomes moot. History is over. Knowledge is worthless. Ideas are forgotten. God doesn't exist. Religion ends. Planets continue their own life cycle. The universe exists forever regardless.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Three Hundred and Nineteen...

I love to draw explosions.

What do you want to talk about?

I don't know. Art.

Art...

Never mind. I really think that Greg Oden should stop getting injured.

I agree. He should stop doing that.

I hear that he sent nude photos over his phone.

So?

Palin wrote on her hand.

And?

Jesus died.

I know. Sad stuff man. They wrote a book about it. A lot of people bought it.

I hear you wrote a book.

Not really. I mean, it's not done yet.

How come?

Because I'm procrastinating.

Oh, how come?

Because I'm not ready to dethrone George Orwell. I like that guy.

Your book is better than 1984?

Hell no. It's better than Animal Farm.

Hmmm. Strong words from a pretentious douche bag.

You're a douche bag.

No, you are. I never said I was great.

Let's talk about art.

Let's never talk about art ever again.

How come you missed your friends art show?

I felt sad.

Because you're lame.

I am.

How will it end?

What end?

Your life.

Probably dying.

Yeah, that's how it usually goes.

IF YOU HAD THE ANSWERS WOULD YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THEM?