I'm Not a Real Man. Or Am I a 24th Century Man?

I'm not a real man.

No, no, no. You're just being nice. It's true. No! Stop it! Listen to me! It's true.

I am not a real man.

I am tiny. With the exception of my gut and big breasts, I have no mass. My arms are sticks. My legs below the knee are almost non-existent.  You could totally snap me like a twig. A twig with a gut and big titties.

My face is fat. No cheekbones. No defined chin. Just droopy fat. I look like I'm 16.

Worst of all, the facial hair. Or lack thereof.

I have no facial hair.

If I were to go without shaving for months, I would simply have strands of disgusting hair growing in a sort of anti-Hitler mustache. And approximately four strands of hair growing out of my chiny-chin-chin.

It's hilarious. My best dreams, the ones that are so good I realize they are a dream when I am dreaming them, have to do with me suddenly having facial hair. I will be amazed at the incredible beard I can grow. Sometimes, it may just be a bad-ass mustache or  even just sideburns. Other times it is the perfect amount of Indiana Jones class stuble.

In there dreams, I always realize, "Wait? Why do I have facial hair all of a sudden? Surely this is a dream!" It always is. A wonderful, wonderful dream.

Most people dream about winning the lottery. Some people dream about falling in love. Other, similar, but less juvenile people dream about the act of sex. Hitler dreamt about ruling to world. My wet dream is about growing facial hair (that is meant as a joke. A dream about facial hair has never literally been a "wet dream." Don't want you to think I'd that strange...)

Oh, and all the wonderful things I would do with my facial hair (if I had it)! Goatees!  And villainous mustaches (with that curl on the end that I cut stroke whenever I laugh manically)! And that British look where all that is shaved is your chin (like Watson used to have before the Holmes reboot)! And Obi Wan Kenobi class beards! And Indiana Jones, best of all, level stubble! Oh, the facial hair I would grow (if I could)...

I am not a man. I exhibit no manly characteristics. I've never been punched in the face. I've never thrown a perfect spiral. I have never watched an entire sporting event without getting distracted, not even when I have been at the game. I've never gotten drunk and snogged a chick. I don't know shit about cars.

I am not a man. But, aside from the breasts, I'm not a woman (and even those are not womanly. Wouldn't want to titty fuck these titties) either. So what am I?

Could I, perhaps be a 24th century man?

Not the kind of 24th century man portrayed in Star Trek. Captain James T. Kirk is far too much of a man for me. Even Bones, with his constant complaining and fear, is more man than I will ever be.

No, I'm an actual 24th Century Man, not a fictional one.

I have less hair on my body because I am simply more evolved. Farther removed from our monkey brethren. My arms and legs are tiny, because in the 24th Century, man does not need muscles. Machines do all the work. Man simply needs hands. For operating computers and masturbating.

For in the 24th Century, man need not have sexual relations to reproduce. Machines do all that for man as well. They keep the species going, so sex is a thing of the past. Therefore, courting skills are no longer known by 24th Century Man (which explains why I lack them). All 24th Century Man knows is masterbation.

I am 24th Century Man! Hear me roar! If I were not so easily defeated by 21st Century Man (aka Real Man), you should feel threatened! Because there would be the chance I could replace you, were I not far inferior to you in everyway.

Oh. And the breasts? 24th Century Man is the source of delicious milk. Because Cows are extinct.

Damn you McDonalds!

Donate Your Cell Phone to a Homeless Man

One person can make a difference!

That's right, you can make a difference! Just you! All by yourself! Like a big boy/girl!

It's true. Just look at all these people who have made a difference...


Adolf Hitler

Joseph Stalin

Ghengis Khan


Ok, so all those people were evil. Just look at all the non-evil individuals who have made a difference...

Luke Skywalker
James Bond

Khan (I mean, Khaaaaaaan!)


Okay, so those were all fictional. And Khan was evil AND fictional. But there are non-evil, real, flesh and blood people who have made a difference too...

I just can't think of anyway.

The point is YOU can make a difference. Right here and right now (or, at the very least, right near here in a time slightly later than now [cause you're reading this blog at present]).

All you need to do is give your old cell phone to a homeless person. It doesn't need to have service. It doesn't have to hold a charge. It just needs to look like a cell phone.

It's a win/win!

First, the cell phone is recycled! So it's not thrown in some landfill where it eventually gets swallowed by a mutant (following the nuclear apocalypse of 2012 [damn those Mayans, there were right! But so was Planet of the Apes...]) who doesn't know better, causing it to choke to death (or, if it survives, the phone is still lodged in its mutant throat, so the poor creature can no longer eat, so it very slowly [and very painfully] starves to death. It's kind of comical really, the mutant gets so skinny that your old cell phone is visible, bulging out of it's skinny little neck). I know you've been saving all your cell phones to use the parts to construct your time machine and/or robot slave, but think about more than just yourself for a moment here! Who ever heard of anyone changing the world with a time machine!

Looking pretty insane...

Second (as in the second win in this win/win scenario), the homeless person who receives your phone no longer looks insane! Let me explain briefly (if I am capable of this).

All homeless people talk to themselves. This is a scientific fact. It has been this way since the beginning of time (well, at least since the beginning of homes).

They mutter to themselves, the carry out one-sided (sometimes two-sided) conversations, and they most certainly shout at the top of their lungs that their paper bag has been stolen by scarecrows. They appear insane. Each and every one of them. Fucking homeless.

But with cell phones, they need not look crazy! If you give a homeless person a cell phone (a much better choice than giving a mouse a cookie, because if you give a mouse a cookie, you are
just asking for a rodent infestation [which is preferable to a homeless infestation. Fucking homeless!), you are giving them their dignity back (what little dignity such putrid human beings like the homeless deserve).

Yay! Dignity!

If you see a dirty bearded man, dressed in rags, talking gibberish with a cell phone next to his ear, what is the first thing you think? I'll tell you what you will think, "I sure hope that man is not planning a terrorist attack. Perhaps I should notify the proper authorities." But this is good. This means you are not thinking, "That homeless person is insane. I should murder the lot of them someday.... That someday is today, mutha' fucka'! (*cocks shotgun*) Let's hunt!"

You don't know the phone isn't functional. That man could very well be talking to his lawyer about the seagull who stole his refrigerator.

And you don't have to donate an old phone either. Have a headset that came with your phone but don't want to look like a faggity douche (I do not use faggit as slur against gay people, I simply use it to explain people like Hollywood folk who may use a headset) by using it? Donate that to a homeless person. As long as he is smart enough to not leave the cord hanging at his waste (which may be too much to expect from the subhuman creatures known as the homeless) , that's enough to make him look like a faggity douche... a faggity douche who is not homeless or crazy (just a faggity douche).

Anyway, tomorrow, when that homeless person asks you some change, give him change instead (the Obama variety); give him your old cell phone or unused headset (assuming you are not a faggity douche). Because, that food he wants may keep him alive for a few days, but the dignity you provide him will feed him for a lifetime (because, for all we know, homeless people can live off dignity alone. We simply don't know, because there has yet to be a single homeless person in the history of man who ever had any).

Anyway, food for thought.

Be seeing you.


P.S. OF COURSE IT WAS DESIGNED BY A YOUTUBE EMPLOYEE'S FOUR YEAR OLD SON. IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT!

A Letter to the Man Who Invented Roller Shoes

Dear Man Who Invented Roller Shoes,

Are you out of your fucking mind? Was it your plan to become the most evil man since Hitler or were you just not thinking? Though I find it hard to believe that such an atrocity against the human race can be an accident, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Which is far more than fucking valueless scum like yourself deserves.

The only explanation I can think of that explains your mental retardation is that your mother and father must have been brother and sister, or possibly father and daughter ("My sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter!"). And this unholy matrimony must have been that in a long line of incest dating back to when two twin monkeys (one female and one male, like Luke and Leia) stuck it in one another (the male being the one to stick it in the female ["it" being his little, hard monkey cock.]).

Nothing else can explain why anyone would look at a pair of children's shoes and say to himself, "I could stick a wheel in that." You sir, would disgust me less if you stuck it ("it" being your penis again) into woodland creatures, because that train of thought is far more logical than whatever was going through your head when you combined shoe and wheel (I mean, who hasn't felt a tingling in their pants at the sight of a Beaver slapping his dam together with that majestic tail of his?).

This guy totally has a hard on. Who can blame him?

Now, the Roller Blade and the Roller Skate make perfect sense. Without the roller skate, how would we preform the funky chicken without looking like assholes? And without the roller blade, how would we be able to tell the homosexuals from the general population? With these two roller devices filling every roller hole, why the fuck would you create the roller shoe?

With the roller blades cropped from this picture
you cannot tell which of these two men is gay.

The roller shoe has only served one purpose: it makes children more annoying than they already are. Before the roller shoe, children were the second most annoying thing in the world. Now, children have passed Fox News correspondents as the greatest annoyance facing mankind today. I would literally rather suck Glenn Beck's cock than witness one more child run down a stretch of hall, leaning back, letting his wheels take him in a maddening yet graceful spiral until he skids to a soul-crushing halt. Seriously, a child with roller shoes is like a Transformer combined with Spongebob Squarepants, if this crime-against-nature-Trans-Sponge-Bob was high on cocaine.

Seriously, Man Who Invented Roller Shoes, if I kill a child it is for one of two reasons. Either I was picking a song on my iPod while driving down a suburban neighborhood, or, more likely, I murdered a little bastard who broke into a roll while I was waiting in line at the movie theater. If this happens, the blood is on your hands. The former is my own fault, as I have filled my iPod with so much stolen garbage (meaning shitty music, not the band who sang "The World Is Not Enough") that the "Shuffle Songs" action is almost as unthinkable as the roller shoe.

How can you sleep at night? Knowing all the childcides and suicides your roller shoe is responsible for. I was not exaggerating when I referred to you as the most evil man since Hitler, earlier in this letter. In fact, I take that back. You, sir, are worse than Hitler. Worse than Hitler!

I would suggest you kill yourself, but that is not enough. Take that "genius" mind of yours and spend the rest of your life toiling to invent a time machine. Take that time machine back to your childhood, find your childhood self, attach a pair of roller shoes to your little child feet, attach rockets to your little child arms, and launch your little child self off a cliff with the aid of the roller shoes and rocket arms. Then, go back in time again and do the same to your little, tiny infant self for good measure.

If you do not do it, I will. And you don't want that, because I am dangerously close to cracking the time machine as it is.My time machine is close to completion.

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. And yes, I am still interested in purchasing your story to develop into a screenplay as earlier discussed.

Be Seeing You,
Nick Doll

P.S. I would love a pair of roller shoes since I bet you get them for free and what-not. Think about it.