Have you ever noticed your feet are pointing one way, and your asshole is pointing another? Pure Unadulterated Logic at work. |
I love the the type of logic that makes perfect sense, yet once you really grasp it, you can't help but feel like you have less information than you started with. I've always wanted to find a language I could use to inflict the unthinkable on the strongholds of general consensus. Verbal cattle prods to nudge sacred cows thru slaughterhouse keyholes of expanding chaos, plunging them over dark cliffs into deep ravines, skewering them on the poison points of semantic shish-ka-bob tomfoolery. Pituitary knitting needles that prick against derelict thought bubbles, strung like lumps of meat between Dr. Popeye X's headphones. Maniacally dog-paddling, thru choppy spirals in a septic swirlhole, the Toiletside Reader uses Pure Unadulterated Logic to keep from being sucked down the drain of ubiquitous abnormality. |
Yesterday's knowledge is tomorrow's stupidity, but wisdom is all about makin' your best move, right now. Data has a tendency to disintegrate over time, so its better to erase it on purpose, while its still fresh in your mind. A person with higher intelligence has a greater capacity for achieving total stupidity, than a dumb person with less brains, who knows better than to think about it in the first place. Lots of dumb people have way more savvy than their intelligent equivalents. Too much education can wipe out a person's ability to learn. Too much intelligence can choke a person's capacity to think. Too much thought can eclipse the obvious, that's why the drive-thru, 2-dollar, stun-wand lobotomy has become such a viable option for today's busy soccer moms. They just drive up, and an attendant gives them a quick "skullbuster" on the temple. In 20 seconds, they're back on the road, and those brain cells start to let go. By the time they collect their thoughts, they can't tell their ass from a hole in the dirt. |
Meanwhile, a screaming throng of pro-choice date rape activists burned a shock therapy kiosk in a local mall today. Protesting the unfair advantage electric shock has over conventional knockout pills, a ski-masked demonstrator shouted, "Whenever you try to slip some broad a mickey, before you know it, some shock jockey slams a stun gun on her crotch, and she's his for the night! That ain't fair!" |
This is The Logic Of The Toiletside Reader |
