porkjerky plogEureka
So, it turns out I’m still a fucking genius. How many of the world’s great ideas do you think were conceived on the toilet? My guess is that the crapper is the leading place and shitting the leading activity for inspiring brilliance.
Uh oh, now my brilliance is inspiring me to be brilliant about inspiring brilliance. Instead of weekend retreats, workshops, brainstorming sessions and synergistic, team-based, creativity exercises in rhetorical bullshit—whenever you need to come up with an idea—feed people a laxative, give them a pen and paper and send them to the shitter.
Ok team, we need a marketing campaign that’s going to make these hunks a shit fly off the shelves. Were pulling out all the stops on this one. No holds bar. I need everyone to wash down their Ex-Lax brownies with their 2 liters of Metamucil, get a pen and paper and pound out some ideas on the john today. Come on people, get in there, open up your asses and brains and let the ideas and crap just flow out of you. I want some real gems coming out of the stalls today.
Sweet god damn, I should be a high priced consultant.
As I was grunting out today’s edition, I was playing with the zipper on my pants. It wouldn’t close all the way, leaving the last 2 teeth at the top unclosed. As the day went on and I moved around it would slowly fall. It was technically broken, but still wearable– I wasn’t quite ready to move it to my broken zipper pants collection—which is quite impressive by the way. For 2 years now I have been breaking zippers every way imaginable and at an alarming rate: zipper tongue snapped off, won’t stay up, completely broken free, gotten off track, rusted shut, zipped close and came and off —you name it—its in my broken zipper pants collection.
I’ve always meant to fix them somehow. Maybe replace the zipper heads with some from thrift store jeans. Solder or super glue the broken zippers. Bend the top teeth to make it work. Maybe replace the whole thing with a button system. That was the problem, I didn’t really know how to fix all the different types of zipper problems I had.
Of course after today’s shit epiphany, those problems have all been solved. I spent the last couple of hours cutting zippers out, measuring the area I had to work with and wait for it, wait for it—replacing my broken zippers with Velcro.
Hot jesus christ awesome. I’m a fucking genius, right?
Velcro to fix broken zippers–What a savant. I’m a pioneering genius, the kind of person who sees the world at just the correct angles to make life that much more better for everyone. Like the first guy to look down as he was doggy styling a chick and go ‘Hey, I’ll be damned. You know what? I bet my dick will fit in her butthole.’
That’s the type of genius I am.
No one gives a fourth of a cum covered turd what you think, but please don't let that stop you from spreading your insightful wit to the world by commenting below. Or fuck, you're such a pussy-eating faggot you're probably interested in the rss feed of this shitty site. Oy vey.
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