Lunatic Ravings! (08/14/00 & 08/21/00)
Well, everyone should be happy to know that the blood spurting from my ear is now just a slow trickle. I recommend to everyone NOT to stick a pen in their ear, no matter how tempting it might be.
I have heard that there is a possibility that "Survivor 3" might be held in space, on a space station. I have thought this over and have come up with a grand idea to make that show much, much better.
I think that every time a survivor is voted off the space station the loser should be shot outside the airlock. The survivor will have a suit and an oxygen supply, so death would not be immediate. This is where the fun begins.
As soon as they are ejected from the station, a space shuttle takes off from earth. If the space station is 4 hours away from earth, the loser survivor would be given 4 1/2 hours of oxygen. I feel this would give the loser a chance to be a winner.
Wait a minute here. I have a sharp pain in my left arm and in my chest.
I'm okay now. Kind of hard to breathe, but I am okay.
This would be edge of your seat entertainment. Will the loser survivor be rescued by the shuttle? Can the shuttle each them in time? Or will the loser plummet to earth only to burn up on reentry? This would be fascinating television.
Or, if the survivor who was voted off was really annoying, people on earth can vote on whether they should be rescued or not. I'm sure that scientists can design a space suit that melts in a certain amount of time. So, after a 4 hour period, the luckless loser is denied rescue and we can watch as their suit melts and they blow up. That would be interesting.
It is probably doomed to fail, though. Some half wit contestant will not be paying attention and will open the wrong door and everyone will be sucked out of the station into space. Or someone would accidentally hit the wrong button and the station would smack into the moon and blow up. I guess I can only dream.
We recently had a meeting and we decided that we should put naked pictures on this site. However, good ole Bob thinks that is wrong and totally against his puritanical beliefs. I called Bob a dick and he got mad and promised retribution. Yeah, I'm scared. So, unless Bob dies, we won't have any nudity here. Bob claims if I died he would be very happy. Should be interesting on how this turns out.
COMING NEXT: I finally find peace and goodwill towards my fellow man.
if you find this offensive and you want to give him a "Good Ass-Whuppin."
Lunatic Ravings! (08/21/00)
Lunatic Ravings! (08/21/00)
By "Jerome White"
Hey! My name is Jerome White. I am taking over this mother fucking column from Steven cause his ass is dead!!
I don't watch no television cause I ain't got one. I don't go to no movies because I ain't got no money. I just write about what I know.
Check this. I went home one evening expecting my dinner to be on the table. It was. But, my bitch ho girlfriend didn't give me no PEAS!! I need my mother fucking PEAS. So, I screamed at her, "Where are my mother fucking PEAS!"
She looked at me and threw down her dish towel then ran from the kitchen. I don't know about you, but I will have none of that from my bitch. So, I chased her to the bedroom.
She was lying on the bed CRYING! She's so weak. I threw a statue of the Virgin Mary at her and demanded to know where my peas were. She kept on crying. So, I jumped on the bed screaming "PEAS!! PEAS!! I want my PEAS!" She kept on crying. Then, she had the nerve to run from the bedroom!!
I ain't taking none of that shit from my bitch. I followed her into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and took out some frozen asparagus. Asparagus? I want no fucking asparagus!!! I want motherfuckingloving PEAS!!!
To make this story short, I didn't get my damned peas. I had to eat my steak with no peas. However, I warned her about me having no peas. This will not happen again.
She did tell me that my prescription to the Wall Street Journal ran out. I got mad again. How could she let my prescription run out?? Where's her head? I expect 2 things when I get home: I need my peas and I need my Wall Street Journal. Now it looks like I ain't got either. Fuck this shit.
On a personal note, Steven was pretty cool for a white guy. It's Bob I think I might have a problem with. I think I might be bustin a cap in his ass real soon.
Up Next: I visit the funeral home.
Lunatic Ravings 2000 . Lunatic Ravings 2001
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