John has hot *panda bears* he secretly loves and wishes to romance.
He also dances like a drunken sorority girl.
The end.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
John made a blog about himself: Priceless!
John made the cutest little blog about himself. It's filled with self-inflating lies about his chess prowess, and how he will cook you dinner, which he definitely won't do. No, he'll bring out carrots and hummus and eat in front of you until you ask if you can have one, and then he'll look at you like you asked if you could shove the carrot up his ass.
It also appears that John is staking the claim that he invented the United States of America, or at the very least, Google Maps. I don't think he invented or charted either of these things.
Oh well, you can see John's Blog HERE
It also appears that John is staking the claim that he invented the United States of America, or at the very least, Google Maps. I don't think he invented or charted either of these things.
Oh well, you can see John's Blog HERE
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Can you beat John Post at chess?
Is this even a question worth asking? Last time I played chess with him, he pleaded with me, "just kill me now." I'm no chess expert either. I can beat Microsoft chess on level 2, maybe level 3, but I could also beat John Post at chess no problem. I'd stake the claim that a newborn child could beat John Post at chess, granted you'd have to help the child move the pieces since their motor skills are terribly underdeveloped.
Which leads me to wonder. Should John Post be doing ordinary everyday things which seem innocuous enough, but possess real dangers when taken into the hands of an adult whose learning and mobile capabilities are less than the average bear (or newborn child). Take driving a car for instance: seems safe enough. But John gets distracted very easily and he might take a look at himself in the rear view mirror and become confused as to how there is a double of him, causing a terrible traffic wreck killing hordes of innocent people, puppies, and roses along the way. Worst of all, he'd walk away from the crash unscathed looking for his double like a moron, probably getting in another car causing a tautology of pain and suffering.
Or, take eating in a restaurant. Now this truly seems like something he should be capable of. In fact, newborn children eat at restaurants and I'm sure a bear could if we stopped the damn bear segregation movement (this is the 21st Century people.) But John, man, if you get him in a restaurant, who knows what would go wrong! Whatever could go wrong, I'm sure it would end with the kitchen on fire, John telling some stupid joke about chicken soup, the waiter unconscious with his head up your date's skirt, and the Chef screaming, "Holy God! Sweet God! It burns all the way down!"
Anyway, let's just say, I beat John at chess.
Which leads me to wonder. Should John Post be doing ordinary everyday things which seem innocuous enough, but possess real dangers when taken into the hands of an adult whose learning and mobile capabilities are less than the average bear (or newborn child). Take driving a car for instance: seems safe enough. But John gets distracted very easily and he might take a look at himself in the rear view mirror and become confused as to how there is a double of him, causing a terrible traffic wreck killing hordes of innocent people, puppies, and roses along the way. Worst of all, he'd walk away from the crash unscathed looking for his double like a moron, probably getting in another car causing a tautology of pain and suffering.
Or, take eating in a restaurant. Now this truly seems like something he should be capable of. In fact, newborn children eat at restaurants and I'm sure a bear could if we stopped the damn bear segregation movement (this is the 21st Century people.) But John, man, if you get him in a restaurant, who knows what would go wrong! Whatever could go wrong, I'm sure it would end with the kitchen on fire, John telling some stupid joke about chicken soup, the waiter unconscious with his head up your date's skirt, and the Chef screaming, "Holy God! Sweet God! It burns all the way down!"
Anyway, let's just say, I beat John at chess.
John's Winter Poem
It's snowing! It's snowing!
John Post is crying!
He weeps just like a little child
who truly needs some chiding.
John Post is crying!
He weeps just like a little child
who truly needs some chiding.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The Saga of John the Cartographer
John is off being the world's most famous cartographer somewhere in the deep and mysterious hills of North Carolina. He's currently mapping out previously undiscovered, highly populated and industrialized cities and towns! Can you believe it?! Our John! I just hope he is careful amongst these strange and highly civilized people. Who knows what they will do to him.
Here is my worst case scenario of what could happen to John while he's off doing service to generations and beyond with his cartography:
As always, John approaches the city with extreme caution, eying the local inhabitants to ascertain their customs and potential for danger. He sees that several of the inhabitants of this particular village are going into a building with a green symbol on it. Strangely enough, John recognizes the symbol! It says, "Starbucks." With a deeply drawn breathe, John enters the village doing his best to imitate their upright walking technique and chatter. As John gets closer to these people, he realizes their chatter is actually language! Furthermore, it is the language that John speaks! English!
Amazed and overjoyed, John realizes his infiltration into this society will be easier. However, he also realizes that this highly civilized society, no matter how akin to his own, is still a major threat. He walks to the building that he sees so many people coming in and out of, hearing pieces of people's conversations: "So did you get her number?" "Let's hit that thing then go out on the trails man!" "Quarter rutabaga and sugar pie honey bunch." That last one John didn't entirely understand, but from the rest he knew he must be on his toes. These were vile, ugly, highly specialized and developed creatures, capable any atrocity known to mankind.
Shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder, John takes a deep breathe and plunges through the doors of the "Starbucks" and finds himself inside. He sees people sitting around drinking and talking; drinking goats blood no doubt and speaking of murder and conspiracy. "I must blend in," John thinks to himself and approaches a table of young adults. "'Bout time for some of that lambs blood, huh?" John asks with a painful grin, desecrating his poor soul to its very core. Oh the inhumanity of these monsters John's conscience decries! May they rot in hell!
"The best part of waking up is MURDER!" John yells in an attempt begin a conversation. The young adults just gaze dumbly on him. "Well.... well, it's nice to meet you," one of them meekly offers. "Nice to meet you too" John replies, "so where can I get some of that warm cherry juice?" A strong, young male offers to John, "Come with me, man, and I'll get you a cup of Joe."
"Cannibalism!" John thinks, his heart sinking to a chamber where even the most devout cannibal could not find it. "Poor, poor Joe," John thinks, but says, "Sure, let's do it." They approach the counter. John swears he can hear screaming in the backroom.
"Get this man a coffee," says the strong young male, obviously trying to impress his female counterparts in hopes of gross copulation and defilement in the near future. The attendant asks John, "Do you want any shots with that?" John's lips quiver: this might be more than he can handle. "No, no thanks, I have some dietary restrictions," he manages to mutter.
The barista says he understands and beings to work behind the counter. John can hear screaming and steam, he winces and attempts to shy away, but the strong young male is standing in his exit route. Raising his hand, the barista offers the sinister cup that could only be matched by the treachery of Mephistopheles. "I've got this one," says the strong young male, adding with a crooked grin, "Welcome to town."
John slowly puts his lips to the container; what other choice does he have now? He slowly takes in the liquid, attempting not to taste it, but it's flavors and scent are so pungent he cannot help but do so.
The cup, as if in slow motion, falls from John's hands, exploding on the floor. A white, viscous liquid spreads over the shins of John and the strong young male. John, losing strength, slowly lowers himself to the floor until he is laying on his side in the abominable liquid.
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT MAN?!" screams the strong young male. With his last gasp, John utters these words:
"...soy.....milk.....it was.... soy.... milk......."
Here is my worst case scenario of what could happen to John while he's off doing service to generations and beyond with his cartography:
As always, John approaches the city with extreme caution, eying the local inhabitants to ascertain their customs and potential for danger. He sees that several of the inhabitants of this particular village are going into a building with a green symbol on it. Strangely enough, John recognizes the symbol! It says, "Starbucks." With a deeply drawn breathe, John enters the village doing his best to imitate their upright walking technique and chatter. As John gets closer to these people, he realizes their chatter is actually language! Furthermore, it is the language that John speaks! English!
Amazed and overjoyed, John realizes his infiltration into this society will be easier. However, he also realizes that this highly civilized society, no matter how akin to his own, is still a major threat. He walks to the building that he sees so many people coming in and out of, hearing pieces of people's conversations: "So did you get her number?" "Let's hit that thing then go out on the trails man!" "Quarter rutabaga and sugar pie honey bunch." That last one John didn't entirely understand, but from the rest he knew he must be on his toes. These were vile, ugly, highly specialized and developed creatures, capable any atrocity known to mankind.
Shooting a furtive glance over his shoulder, John takes a deep breathe and plunges through the doors of the "Starbucks" and finds himself inside. He sees people sitting around drinking and talking; drinking goats blood no doubt and speaking of murder and conspiracy. "I must blend in," John thinks to himself and approaches a table of young adults. "'Bout time for some of that lambs blood, huh?" John asks with a painful grin, desecrating his poor soul to its very core. Oh the inhumanity of these monsters John's conscience decries! May they rot in hell!
"The best part of waking up is MURDER!" John yells in an attempt begin a conversation. The young adults just gaze dumbly on him. "Well.... well, it's nice to meet you," one of them meekly offers. "Nice to meet you too" John replies, "so where can I get some of that warm cherry juice?" A strong, young male offers to John, "Come with me, man, and I'll get you a cup of Joe."
"Cannibalism!" John thinks, his heart sinking to a chamber where even the most devout cannibal could not find it. "Poor, poor Joe," John thinks, but says, "Sure, let's do it." They approach the counter. John swears he can hear screaming in the backroom.
"Get this man a coffee," says the strong young male, obviously trying to impress his female counterparts in hopes of gross copulation and defilement in the near future. The attendant asks John, "Do you want any shots with that?" John's lips quiver: this might be more than he can handle. "No, no thanks, I have some dietary restrictions," he manages to mutter.
The barista says he understands and beings to work behind the counter. John can hear screaming and steam, he winces and attempts to shy away, but the strong young male is standing in his exit route. Raising his hand, the barista offers the sinister cup that could only be matched by the treachery of Mephistopheles. "I've got this one," says the strong young male, adding with a crooked grin, "Welcome to town."
John slowly puts his lips to the container; what other choice does he have now? He slowly takes in the liquid, attempting not to taste it, but it's flavors and scent are so pungent he cannot help but do so.
The cup, as if in slow motion, falls from John's hands, exploding on the floor. A white, viscous liquid spreads over the shins of John and the strong young male. John, losing strength, slowly lowers himself to the floor until he is laying on his side in the abominable liquid.
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT MAN?!" screams the strong young male. With his last gasp, John utters these words:
"...soy.....milk.....it was.... soy.... milk......."
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Ode to John
John, O John,
You plague my dreams
with churlish machinations
and devilish schemes
.
John, O John
You are such a fright
when the sun goes down
I light a nightlight
.
John, O John
when will you learn?
To torture brings peace
only in the urn
.
John, O John
You ugly mutt
I'll piss in your closet
and punch your gut
.-by The World
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