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 John Dies at the End

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PostSubject: John Dies at the End   John Dies at the End EmptyWed Jul 01, 2009 10:02 pm

"Everything you need to know about the universe, you can learn from this picture of Captain Kirk holding a rock shaped like a boner.


John Dies at the End Kirkcock

That picture is a tunnel your mind can climb through. What’s at the other end? No man has gotten that far with his sanity intact.

But back to Captain Kirk and his cock-shaped stalagtite. It’s not really shaped like a cock, of course, your mind just projects cock onto a random formation of mineral deposits. Understanding why will change the way you look at the universe.

For instance, let’s look at this “ghost” photo somebody sent. You write a book like mine, you get lots and lots of stuff like this in your inbox.

John Dies at the End Fake_creepy1_nightsm

As an expert in these matters, I think this is pretty solid evidence that this person’s edition of Photoshop was haunted by a stock photo from a Halloween costume catalogue.

Retarded? Yes. But is it any moreso than all of the other ghost photos in the world, all of which portray some translucent woman in a gown or a dude wearing old-timey clothes, aimlessly wandering the halls of a library?

If, hypothetically, your soul or life force or whatever had the ability to live on and wander around haunting shit after you’ve died, why the hell would it wear clothes? Who chooses what outfit you have to wear for eternity? Is it whatever you were wearing when you died? Why aren’t there more ghosts wearing hospital gowns?

No, they appear as we think they should appear. The ghosts are just more cock-shaped stalagtites.

Stalagmites?

Now, let’s take it further, right to the top. Here’s a portrait of God from the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

John Dies at the End Sistine

Why does God need eyelids?
And why did he give Adam such a tiny dick?

Can God get dust in His eyes? Does God need to block the sunlight from his pupils? You know, the sunlight that didn’t exist until He invented it? Now I’m not saying there’s no God. I’m just saying he doesn’t have fucking eyelids.

We put those on Him.

It’s obvious, but important. Because once you recognize it you can apply it to everything. And I mean everything. We perceive all of existence through the same blurry goggles that put an oversized cock in Captain Kirk’s hands up there. We are built to stare into the unfathomable darkness, and project onto it a shape we can understand.

Stories and legends and myths aren’t made up by people who want to dress up boring everyday life with their imaginations. They’re created to do the opposite, using imagination to dress up the unimaginable. It’s like wallpapering a window.

To hide the horror outside. "

......
"So don’t laugh at ghost stories. Ghosts and demons still rule this playground; armies march under their orders. Google “Barack Obama antichrist” and count the results.

And while you’re at it, Google “Egyptian Penis.” Look at that; it turns out their gods had huge cocks. Shooting stars were thought to be their semen.

It always comes back to penis, doesn’t it? So who am I to laugh at the penis sidewalk guy? And, not to get off on a whole cock tangent, but think about this:

What if, during construction of that house, the concrete guy was in fact influenced by some Freudian desire to project his phallus into his work and, as a result, made a sidewalk shaped like a boner. Hell, it’s a staple of our architecture.

We can’t help it. The male mind is a corndog: a thin layer of fried personality coating a meat shaft. Every thought revolves around sex and the projection of sexual dominance. Every young boy loves toy guns and bullets and missiles at first sight, before he even knows what war is. That shape speaks to him, the power it projects.

Thus we get the Washington Monument, and the Chrysler Building. Hell, in the 60s we built an enormous Saturn V rocket-powered dong and fucked the moon.

And 100 or 500 or 1,000 years from now, when mankind has left this planet and is busy colonizing other worlds, our dick-shaped rockets will zoom across millions of miles. Mankind, the little monkey-shaped bacteria crawling over this miniscule blue rock in the vast emptiness of space, will etch his cock onto the stars, bringing those Egyptian boner gods to life.

That’s right. The universe will be haunted by our dicks. Mark my words."
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PostSubject: Re: John Dies at the End   John Dies at the End EmptyThu Jul 02, 2009 3:32 am

o.O
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PostSubject: Re: John Dies at the End   John Dies at the End EmptyThu Jul 02, 2009 9:00 am

lolwut
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PostSubject: Re: John Dies at the End   John Dies at the End EmptyThu Jul 02, 2009 1:04 pm

Kiela and I just watched that episode of Star Trek a little while ago. It's from "What little girls are made of."

In it, a brilliant scientist is experimenting with robotics developed by a long dead extraterrestrial civilization and to illustrate to Kirk how effective and poweful it can be, he creates an android out of a beautiful woman. He alternately orders the android to kiss Kirk and hit him to illustrate his ability to manipulate and design such technologies.

But later, the android woman starts to experience emotions from her exposure to Kirk, demanding that she kiss him at phaserpoint, but he refuses and blames everything on the scientist. She hates and loves the scientist for making her and in the end the disposable, non regular cast all die, including Lurch the super android.

The notion that the penis is powerful is all over the episode, not just in the scene depicted above. The android woman wants cock bad enough to kil over it, and her self loathing at her budding womanly desires, spurred on by her mere proximity to the smoldering James Tiberius Kirk, is a little sad. BUt ultimately, it's more revealing about humanity because like so many sentient beings (female AND male), she is having trouble coming to terms with her very primal urges and needs. She thinks she's above cock, but nobody is above cock and the many different things it represents to many different people. To some, it's power. To some, it's pain. To some, it's pleasure. To all, it's relevant.

"What Little Girls Are Made Of" is further proof that we as a species are fixated on the power of the phallus.

I didn't like this episode that much before reading the post. Now that I've read it and completated it to its fullest, I have to say it's the greatest thing ever shown on television. Kirk conquers everyone with his johnson.
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