R.I.P. Ingibjörn
Today I discovered who the dirty bastard was who sent me the SMS telling me I had won a new car. He’s dead. Yes, I was going to just laugh and go along with it. You know, look the other way and just be a real sport. But then I thought to myself, “If I do that, he will feel like it’s okay to make jokes about me and I’ll get all kinds of crap from him for the rest of time”. So, I decided to kill him and chop him up into little bits to feed my crayfish. I know, it’s not as dramatic to feed someone to two 2 ½ inch crayfish as it is to feed them to the pigs (like in “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels”), but that’s what I have to work with (and think of the determination it shows!). I don’t think my tiger barbs and rasboras would eat a person. Besides, being eaten by crayfish would be disgusting, I imagine.
Anyway, R.I.P. Ingibjörn. No longer will you suffer the trials and tribulations of a life on this cold block of frozen lava floating in the north Atlantic. It’s tragic to think that this young life had to come to an end because of a joke. “What a shame,” the old people will say as they listen to Iceland’s version of Peter Jennings report on the loss of yet another young man. “What is this world coming to when mere children are brazen enough to disrespect an innocent old man like that, even if he IS an immigrant!” . We will miss him, although we hardly knew him, because he was representative of today’s youth: young and full of...well, something and his death is a metaphor for the demise of decent society brought about by the lack of morality in the younger generation. He was a smoker. He could not afford a hair brush, apparently. He was funny, though...right up until his last joke-the one that brought about his end.
But I had to do it. As any real man knows, one has to make an example of the first one to attack one’s honor or else the rest of the cowards in the world will do the same or worse. Respect has to be forcibly injected into people. This lesson I learned by listening to my hero, George W. Bush. He’s such a visionary. I would have forgiven poor little Ingi, but the great and wise President Bush would have looked down on me and smirked his little sideways smirk, labelling me a pinko leftist cry baby. He made an example of Saddam. Yessiree. That bastard offended America’s honor and not only did Bush invade his country-causing the deaths of tens of thousands of people-but he arrested him and then published photos of the former leader in his underwear before parading around saying that he was saving Iraq while it was obvious that he was driving it into a hole from which it would probably never escape. That’s a man!
If only I could have simply humiliated Ingibjörn on the world stage like the great Mr. Bush, maybe his life would have been spared. But, sorry, Ingi, you offended a man with no control over any police or military forces. You had no country to invade. So, instead, the only option open to me was murder. I’ll admit it hurt me almost as much as it hurt you. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, it didn’t hurt me at all whereas you cried like a hungry infant with only grandma’s breast for sustenance. But, I was really crying on the inside.
Anyway, R.I.P. Ingibjörn. No longer will you suffer the trials and tribulations of a life on this cold block of frozen lava floating in the north Atlantic. It’s tragic to think that this young life had to come to an end because of a joke. “What a shame,” the old people will say as they listen to Iceland’s version of Peter Jennings report on the loss of yet another young man. “What is this world coming to when mere children are brazen enough to disrespect an innocent old man like that, even if he IS an immigrant!” . We will miss him, although we hardly knew him, because he was representative of today’s youth: young and full of...well, something and his death is a metaphor for the demise of decent society brought about by the lack of morality in the younger generation. He was a smoker. He could not afford a hair brush, apparently. He was funny, though...right up until his last joke-the one that brought about his end.
But I had to do it. As any real man knows, one has to make an example of the first one to attack one’s honor or else the rest of the cowards in the world will do the same or worse. Respect has to be forcibly injected into people. This lesson I learned by listening to my hero, George W. Bush. He’s such a visionary. I would have forgiven poor little Ingi, but the great and wise President Bush would have looked down on me and smirked his little sideways smirk, labelling me a pinko leftist cry baby. He made an example of Saddam. Yessiree. That bastard offended America’s honor and not only did Bush invade his country-causing the deaths of tens of thousands of people-but he arrested him and then published photos of the former leader in his underwear before parading around saying that he was saving Iraq while it was obvious that he was driving it into a hole from which it would probably never escape. That’s a man!
If only I could have simply humiliated Ingibjörn on the world stage like the great Mr. Bush, maybe his life would have been spared. But, sorry, Ingi, you offended a man with no control over any police or military forces. You had no country to invade. So, instead, the only option open to me was murder. I’ll admit it hurt me almost as much as it hurt you. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, it didn’t hurt me at all whereas you cried like a hungry infant with only grandma’s breast for sustenance. But, I was really crying on the inside.
posted by Our Hero, at 8:14 PM
1 Comments:
You're not a well person. But that's okay. It's one of the reasons I like you.
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