26 April 2013

timpeltje: (Default)

Did I just quote... ermmm... I don’t know their name, but it’s pretty bad!

I was randomly reading on how about 97% of us have plastics in their bodies, and I’m not talking about swallowed small particles from toys that were explicitly labelled as “unsuitable for children!” No, we are talking about plastic residue, residing in virtually all of us. And you thought you didn’t have anything in common with this bedwetting, self-indulgent, priapistic excuse for a cattle farmer (because I’m not a cattle farmer, really, no matter how much you want me to be).
I’m pretty sure I’ve been excelling at stacking up the Plastic. When I was an infant and going through my “suction phase”, I would mostly stick plastic things in my mouth (sure, photographic proof exists that I was sucking on empty beer bottles, but I am pretty sure the photographer took those photos, knowing that I would only touch plastic with my lips, which is why he had to record the moment, as it was so extraordinary). Well, even today, not much has changed. I admit it may seem a little more awkward when you find me sucking on a vending machine button, but then again, we all have our addictions. Mine happens to be plastic, and I thank my lucky stars that I wasn’t born more than a hundred years ago, or I’d be a real weirdo! (Because then we didn’t have plastics, and I would have to resort to sucking fossils, which would really be tragic!)
As person whose glass is always half-full (which reminds me, *calls out to James:* ‘JAMES? Could you fetch me another plastic cup of vodka? And do leave the plastic on the ice cubes, will you?’ ‘Yes, Master!’), I don’t see why a percentage of bodily plastic is necessarily a bad thing.

‘Don’t blame me, blame the plastic!’ could be the ultimate phrase to get away with any crime! If a bit of plastic bounces off on one of our neurons that happen to decide between right and wrong, can you really blame the person? Not really, right?
"So Plastic murdered Professor Green in the Conservatory with a Lead Pipe? Yes, my dear Watson, yesssss, now come over here and kiss me!"

There are those acidic people who will protest just about anything who will say that plastics may make you infertile, and that we should get rid of them, and yadiyadiyadi...

It got me thinking... Why would Plastics, whom we all love deeply, render our men and women infertile? Plastics don’t mean to harm us, do they? Even fish love plastics so much, they cannot get enough of sucking on its infinite goodness!

So why would we be against them?
Plastics wouldn’t be plastics if it didn’t give us something in return, right?
Think about it. We are only fertile, because it is the only way for us to truly live forever (and cruelly enough, never as yourself, only as halves, halves of halves, and so on).
Plastic’s solution takes care of you. You don’t NEED fertility!

Plastics take forever to be broken down by nature, so we might call them our best chance of eternal life. I’ve already convinced myself so much, I’m biting down on a piece of plastic bubble wrap right now and pouring a sauce of molten cling film around it.

The Fountain of Youth? Good luck finding it, buddy! I’ll stick to plastics for my eternal life! The theory is simple: I ingest as much plastic as I possibly can and soon, I will merge with it, which will make me a plastic-human hybrid that will live on forever, and who cares when or not the seed I disseminate is capable of reproducing half of me? Not me! Because I will be Bisphenol A-Man (sort of a superhero name, but really the one plastic element most of use carry around in the highest dose).

We shouldn’t underestimate Evolution. I mean: we are men of science, aren’t we? So if I can teach my genes to incorporate the indestructibility of the plastic into them within my lifetime, nature will have no way of getting rid of me! It is truly the most devious plan ever conceived by anyone, and of course, I won’t share it with anyone, except for maybe with my closest 600 acquaintances, but really, that’s it!

One major flaw of eternal life (I am already living in that state of mind) is that you lose the sense of urgency. The phrase “I’m sure I can do it tomorrow” has never sounded so convincing as from coming from someone who is basically indestructible.

And then you sleep in. You find the closest plastic object you have lying around, which could be anything from a masturbatory aid (check!) to a plastic comb (check!) and you suckle it until your face turns blue, and you faint and are off to a world of dreams.