PERKMASHINTOLOGY

CARTOON SPARKS CONTROVERSY!

2008-02-13T09:59:00.000-08:00

HEATH LEDGER'S CHARACTER "THE JOKER" TO BE CUT FROM BATMAN SEQUEL

2008-01-25T14:28:00.000-08:00

Heath Ledger's character "the Joker" will be cut from the forthcoming Batman sequel "The Dark Knight" and replaced with images of the World Trade Center. The producers of the franchise believe the changes will be more sensitive to fans of the recently deceased actor in the present climate of Heathsteria. Questions still remain as to why no Jewish employees reported for work at the apartment complex the day of Ledger's death.

I'm not eligible to vote in the U.S. elections.

2007-12-20T11:01:00.000-08:00

THAT'S WHY I'LL BE VOTING FOR RON PAUL!

Ron Paul does things differently.

TODAY IN HISTORY

2007-09-11T06:19:00.000-07:00

Today is the ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of my last update on this blog! To celebrate I am updating my blog with this post pointing out that I haven't updated in a year.

Isn't that exciting?

NEVER FORGET!

2006-09-11T05:48:00.000-07:00

On this day, five years ago, 2,973 Brave American Heroes perished in flames and falling World Trade Centers or impacted on the ground below and 19 Misguided Islamic Martyrs were crushed in passenger jets and then incinerated in jet fuel as they carried out their ingenius yet cowardly plot. Also, according to Wikipedia, 24 people remain missing and unaccounted for, so if you're one of those 24 people, please call home! The people you owe money are waiting patiently by the phone.

From our perspective, 5 years on, with Afghanistan a bustling liberal democracy and Bin Laden awaiting trial alongside his partner in crime, Saddam Hussein, - all with minimal loss of military and civilian life - it's easy to forget just how awful the decision to jump out of a skyscraper to avoid the fiery death inside can be. Never forget!

FREE MEL GIBSON!

2006-08-05T14:19:00.000-07:00

Not sure he's in prison yet, but LET HIM GO!

Everybody who's criticising Mel Gibson: you need to ask yourself, "Who did start all the wars?" I'm pretty sure it wasn't the Swedes.

SCIENCE UPDATE

2006-07-03T15:01:00.000-07:00

After years of research and development a team of top NASA Sexologists have finally developed a sex toy capable of satisfying Arethusa.

PERKMASHIN FORUM!

2006-06-14T18:15:00.000-07:00

I've started a new forum using the first free message board provider that appeared in a Google search for "free message board." They probably suck. Here it is. Spread the word!

I'm gay!

2006-05-29T17:12:00.000-07:00

No, not like that!

I mean I'm HAPPY.

HAPPY about having a cock up my ass!

No, not that kind of cock.

A rooster!

A boy rooster.

But we're just friends.

I love to suck dick!

FIRST IMAGES FROM INSIDE PERK HQ

2006-05-03T07:33:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from the IM conservation I'm having in this picture:

Perk: "Hey Arethusa!"
Arethusa: "Hey there sexy."
Perk: "I'm slim!"
Arethusa: "Why do you keep saying that?"
Perk: "Uh... no reason. So, when are we going to get together baby?"
Arethusa: "Soon! I can't wait!"
Perk: "I'm jiggling in anticipation!"
Arethusa: "Jiggling?"
Perk: "Uh... I mean... my rock hard abs are twitching..."
Arethusa: "In anticipation?"
Perk: "Exactly. Where did I put those chicken wings?"
Arethusa: "Guys are so lucky, you can eat whatever you want."
Perk: "..."
Arethusa: "Is that faint sobbing I hear?"

An Excerpt From My Experimental Novel: "PAIN EMBARGO: A NOVEL...?"

2006-04-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

"Yah," sloughed mouthily about tranny wordhole. "I see how." But what of it? Thinkily, this was plausible so it goes, so it goes, but not sensible. No, not sensible. A blow to my face, reeling, blood-spilling, legs opening, juices flowing forth from wounds both natural and bestowed. A mix of pain and excitement as orgasm fell upon her simultaneous to disembowelment. Guts spiltheth upon floor. Metaphorically so, for no act such had taken place, only words. See. Can't frequent repeaters of implausibilities like snowmen about the cold? The cold is to snowmen as lies are to men not of snow, but moreso of paper, news paper, news media, electric colourful purple cunts dancing wildly. Under my eyes still heavy from reading endless lies came a flash of pubes, pink pubes, and pubes no more. Pubes, no more.

You Sick Fuck

2006-02-19T08:21:00.000-08:00

"There are all kinds of suckers: soft suckers, hard, rapid and slow. When they suck hard, they get to hear a sound, and when they're aroused they suck hard."

Gay Cowboys

2006-01-17T15:03:00.000-08:00

Firstly, this is important, so pay attention: I'm not gay. Got that? It's not like I have anything against queers, but I'm not one. I like women. Notice the wo prefix, as in, "Wo there, I'm not into that kind of thing, buddy!" Despite the fact that I'm 100% straight I'm going to review the movie Brokeback Mountain. I should also point out that I haven't seen the movie. Also, I'm not gay. This movie, I have ascertained from friends who bridge the gay-straight divide, is about two cowboys in love. Two male cowboys. I think one dies at the end. Although apparently not of AIDS. Cowboys don't get AIDS. Which leaves only a violent death at the hands of homophobes. Those being the only two ways homosexuals can die in movies.

Enough about the story, let's get down to the important stuff: I don't have a problem with this movie. In many ways, that makes me a hero. A heterosexual warrior, if you will. Waxed smooth and covered in oil. It doesn't matter that this movie is about fags. If a movie's good, I don't care about the subject matter. Shit, some of my favourite movies, I don't even know what they're about! A movie can be about queers, straights, women, men, cripples, retards, asians, Italians or even Muslims: none of that matters to me. I'm blind to it. When I walk out of a movie, the first thing I say is, "Wow, that was a great movie! What was it about?" If someone replied, "Gay cowboys!" I'd be like, "Whoa, I didn't even realise, because I'm just so tolerant I couldn't even follow the fucking plot."

In summary, it doesn't matter if we're gay or straight, or bisexual or trannies, or pedophiles or Irish, we can all come together and enjoy this movie despite its subject matter.

I'M A HUGE FUCKING CONSERVATIVE DIPSHIT

2005-11-02T11:18:00.000-08:00

And let me tell you, I'm outraged by this new vaccine. Twelve year old girls aren't supposed to have sex... unless they're married. By vaccinating them against a sexually transmitted disease (STD) we send the message that it's OKAY to suck and fuck like dirty little whores. You might be wondering how, exactly, the desire for sex is increased by being vaccinated against an STD at a young age. After all, you might point out that most 12 year olds have no idea what the fuck they're being vaccinated against. That all sounds very rational. And therein lies the problem. Allow me to explain,

Every Fetus Has a Wish

2005-10-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

We can all agree on one thing: KILLING IS WRONG. That's a basic principle of ethics. It's right up there with NO FAT CHICKS when it comes to moral creeds. Nobody questions it. We can all agree on a second basic principle: Adding the word "babies" to something already considered bad makes it infinitely worse. Thus, KILLING BABIES IS WRONG + INFINITY. However, killing criminals is good. Criminals are the opposite of babies. The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that babies can't be criminals, because a baby criminal would be trapped between the magnetic poles of Good and Evil, spinning around and around, generating energy without work.

Feminists (dykes) would have you believe that a woman has a "right to choose." I know, I know - stop laughing. But women can't choose to kill babies because babies are built like tanks. Men have to kill babies. With hammers! They don't tell you this at Abortion School because you'd cry tears shaped like tiny, sullen children. Since it's the men doing the killing, it should be the men doing the choosing, and no man would choose to kill a baby. Unless he was a Time Traveller and it was Baby Hitler; then every man worthy of the name would kill a baby. Or harness its energy. But even if you could harness the energy of Baby Hitler, you still wouldn't be able to turn back the clock and unbort all the children that have been slaughtered in the name of convenience. Although obviously you could use your Time Machine to do that. In conclusion, ABORTION = WRONG.

In Memoriam

2005-10-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: Holyshit. Is that George Lucas?

Hello, I'm Perkmashin, I'm running for President of the World!

2005-08-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

Here is why you should vote for me:

1. In my world, religion will be outlawed. Instead, people will worship a kitten that will be chosen at random on the first Tuesday of every February. The kitten will be worshipped for only 51 weeks. During the remaining week, known as Kittenmas, all laws and morality will be suspended and there will be a huge, world-wide ceremonious orgy of sex, drinking, drug abuse, murder, incest, rape, looting, and so on, while the kitten is loaded onto a rocket by Scientists and fired into the Sun. The ceremony continues throughout the week of Kittenmas, until the final day, when everyone gathers around the television to see the kitten's fiery death and witness the selection of a new Kitten Overlord. After the new kitten is selected, law and morality will be reinstated at His or Her honour, lest we be subjected to His or Her wrath.

2. In my world, criminals will be punished using the "teenager caught smoking" method, which has been proven by Science to be more effective than locking people in small rooms. If a man is caught stealing fruit, he will be forced to eat all the fruit in the store, until he is sickened and cured of his desire to steal. If a man rapes your wife, he will be forced to have sex with her repeatedly until he becomes as bored of having sex with her as you are, thus curing him of the urge to rape. If your daughter is caught out after curfew, she will be forced to have sex with the President of the World until such time as he is becomes bored of her. Although this punishment may not seem in keeping with the others, there is a simple explanation: I like teenage poon.

3. In my world, there will be no marriage. Instead, giant structures of plexiglas tubing will be constructed at the centre of every town and city. These perplexing mazes of transparent tubing will have several entrances and the tubing will occasionally meet in bulbs known as Copulation Pods. Each tube will be just big enough for a well-oiled man or woman, who is not overweight, to slither down. People will slither through the tubes until they come to a Copulation Pod, where they will then wait for a partner to slither into the pod and begin the process of copulation; once copulation is finished they are free to slither out or smoke a cigarette. The system of tubing, although maze-like in appearance, will be designed by Sexual Mathematicians to create perfect matches every time.

Isn'tlam!

2005-07-16T17:31:00.000-07:00

Nine tragic days after the tragic London bombing tragedy and Britain still waits for the silent Muslim majority to speak out against themselves. Oh sure, they've gone on television, they've written to newspapers, they've marched in the streets, all to codemn this act of violence, but will that bring back the 55 victims already dead? Until I see the Muslim community actively working on a time machine in order to go back and stop the bombers by some appropriately horrific means that somehow manages to satisfy my bloodlust but does not involve the use of any force (you're a peaceful religion, remember?), I will remain offended.

White and Christian and Offended, just like Jesus intended!

While the police continue to search desperately for some link between the attack and another country, any other country, the rest of us wonder how safe we are while Muslims roam free. As usual, the MSM has dropped the ball, those LLQGHCSMFers couldn't care less about you or me, so it's left to the bloggers, namely me, to pick up the mathematical ball and kick it over, or rather under, the goal post of Understanding. If we take the 1 instance of Islamic terror and the 60 million people in Britain and the approximately 5 billion years the Earth has existed we can see that our chances of being killed in a Islamic terror attack = PANIC!!!

UPDATE: Ahmed H. Al-Rahim sees my time machine and raises me a million muslims!

FUCK YOU HIPPY

2005-07-06T13:08:00.000-07:00

You know, I disagree with hippy liberals on a lot of things, like their absurd claim that Jews aren't evil (they killed Jesus! WTF?), but there's one thing they've got right: Animal Rights! I mean, what could make MORE SENSE than granting animals the same rights as humans? I can't think of anything that could make more sense than that! In fact, that makes so much sense, I'm going to rush out and start an advertising campaign where I equate eating animals to the Holocaust (which didn't happen) and serial killers.

The animal emacipation is at hand, people!

Imagine a world where animals enjoy the same freedoms as white European males. They'll be able to join our golf clubs, go to school at our finest universities, eat from the same troffs and watering holes as we do without the indignity of segregation, dominate our sporting leagues (imagine a lion playing football!), marry our daughters and raise furry manimal children, and rise to the highest echelons of society, becoming our CEOs and, maybe someday, President of the United States of America!

Everybody knows scientists only use animals in their diabolical experiments for the hell of it! Neurobiologists could easily make their cruel incisions in hand puppets rather than animals and they'd learn just as much about the brain! They don't because they like to see animals suffer.

Tom Cruise demonstrates Forced Handjob technique after Science successfully replaces hand with that of ten year old boy

2005-06-18T10:54:00.000-07:00

UPDATE: Tom takes liquid squirted from phallic object to face like a pro.

UPDATE II: Apparently it only takes 16 days to hypnotise someone into believing you're tall.

WORLDWIDE BLOG UPDATE II

2005-06-17T14:00:00.000-07:00

In a post that blog-shook the blogosphere, blogger Ray blogged about Terri Schiavo in his blog and - absurdly - used this blog as an example of... a liberal blog! I thought I'd take this opportunity to make clear my political affiliations. I am completely non-partisan. And by that I mean I'm a raving right-wing lunatic but, in order to wrangle my way out of arguments, I like to use the rhetorical trick of distancing myself from the party or ideology that just happens to support exactly the same things as me so I can then act as if your criticisms somehow don't apply to my position even if they do to theirs. You see, I am, in fact, a libertarian. You might be saying, "But Perk, isn't that an ideology?" No, silly, that's just plain common sense... that happens to take the form of cocky adolescent contrarianism.

Since I am a libertarian, you can calculate my position on any policy using the following handy formula:

I support X because the market would favour X.

Where X is any (neo-)conservative policy you happen to mention. Oh, sure, this might lead to inconsistent nonsense, but, baby, the market is inconsistent. Don't blame me! Also, you should add a dose of wide-eyed zeal. If the Republicans are arguing that gun rights should be protected, I'm arguing that school children should be armed. If the Republicans are arguing that torture is sometimes necessary, I'm saying it should be the standard method of educating preschoolers. Oh, and let's bring back dueling! Yes, I really did just say that. And the previous italicised sentence embodies my entire reason for arguing anything - I'm in love with my own capacity to draw fantastic conclusions! I'm like a bad fucking science fiction novel.

If you need me, I'll be on usenet...

Straw man! Ad hominem! Staw man! Ad hominem!

SAVE TERRI!

2005-06-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

Terri Schiavo's soul is still trapped inside her putrefying body. If we pack her in ice she might still make a full recovery!

DARWIN = HITLER

2005-05-30T17:08:00.000-07:00

Equating Darwin with Hitler might seem to be something of a trite cliché. Indeed, people have been comparing things to Hitler ever since Hitler, in his last dying breath, compared himself to Hitler. But I'm not saying Darwin is like Hitler, I'm saying Darwin is literally Hitler. By "literally" I obviously don't mean literally-literally; that would be absurd. I mean literally as in "fuck off."

Case closed.

How did Darwin become Hitler? Well, it certainly wasn't through a gradual process of mutation and selection, I can tell you that! Once again, we find our Arch-Nemesis, Science, at work. Science has been both an ally and enemy on this blog. An ally when we were ruminating about that time, many years ago, when it was hippies and not Good Christians that opposed it. An ally when, in some future post, we'll speak of how Sound Science, which I'll invent as a rhetorical device, shows Scientific Science to be wrong about Global Warming, Women's Rights, Gays, Endangered Species and Embryos (those lovable, tiny bundles of LIFE!). And an enemy when it says something not in the Bible or that doesn't hold up to a secular critique that happens to be exactly inline with Biblical teachings while, I assure you, having absolutely nothing to do with them.

Nobody ever said being right meant being consistent.

Except philosophers, obviously.

You'll notice that so far I have made two assertions and followed them with nothing of substance. Oh, you didn't? That's okay then.

Here's an article on teenage sexuality. It has nothing to do with this post.

*CRAZY HAND MOVEMENTS*

Anal Probe

2005-05-13T11:53:00.000-07:00

Arethusa, of Stalkers Not Allowed (if you don't keep a shrine to her - and make spermal sacrifices daily - you're going to Hell), has posted an informative interview with me! What a piece of ass.

Science vs. Religion - The Final Battle

2005-05-05T08:30:00.000-07:00

As everyone under the demon-spell of the secular humanist (gay) agenda knows, religion and science are as incompatible as religion and a different kind of religion, which, according to religion, science is. Although all agree that science is incapable of providing the sort of transcendent meaning that standing in a cold building listening to a pedophile recite bad history and stale aphorisms can, many claim, wrongly, that it can provide answers on topics such as whether we're secret-monkeys or born-queers or other un-Godly absurdities. These people simply cannot understand that religion isn't about the same sort of things as science.

The statements of religion, and by religion I mean Christianity, concern not the things they purport to concern but some other sort of thing, such as human nature, although obviously not biology, or our spiritual nature, although obviously I'm not claiming the mind is instantiated by anything other than the brain. The point is that whatever it is, it's outside of the reach of the ex cathedra dogma spewed forth by the High Priestess of Science, Nature. By recognising this uniquely religious form of truth we preserve the most important aspect of religious belief - the desire to avoid criticism - while leaving science mostly unscathed, and retaining, in turn, the important social role of crippling effective opposition when fundamentalist groups gain political power that only moderate religion can provide.

All we need to do is wish hard enough.

Religion will always be with us. The barely-existent church attendance throughout Europe is merely an aberration; one that distracts us from the promising rise of militant Islam in the same region, for example. Religion, and by religion I mean Christianity, is spreading throughout the Third World like wildfire, and once it undergoes the inevitable quick transformation from extremist, frequently violent fundamentalist literalism, fuelled by decades of anger and hatred, to the sort of woolly New Age pluralism that has only ever existed in a tiny corner of affluent Western nations that I'm advocating, all will be right with the world. Religion and science will coexist peacefully. Although obviously stem cell research will be illegal.

Teenage Sexuality in Today's Society

2005-04-14T19:31:00.000-07:00

Think you know your children? Think again! You probably don't even know their NAMES. You may have christened her "Samantha" but that's not what her friends are calling her. "Sam" - androgynous, perplexing - a simple nickname or something more sinister? Scientists investigated - what did they discover? "Antha" had been fucked away!

This weeks guest blogger is Dr. Perk von Mashin, sexologist and child "educator." He's the only goddamn scientist on the whole motherfucking planet. Nobody cares about your children - least of all you - so you'd better pay attention, less your daughter impale herself on a cock so big it'll split her head in two like firewood. Listen to Dr. von Mashin, his message is clear, calm, methodical. He won't set you wrong. He speaks from the heart, unlike your kid's callous fucking parents.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

I am Dr. Perk von Mashin and your children are fucking everything that moves. If she's out of the womb, your daughter's vagina has probably already been subject to so many random sexual encounters it cannot be saved. But if we hurry we can begin work saving your unborn children from the horrific consequences of your seedy negligence. If you are not too much of a lowlife, we may be able to encourage them to abstain from the major sexual acts at least until they are able to walk.

You people really have no idea what's going on in your children's lives. Here at Dr. Perk von Mashin's Child Sex Centre I see so many eye-opening cases that I haven't blinked in eight years. I have to use a prosthetic tear duct with a tube that runs to a water bottle strapped to my waist otherwise my eyes would crust over and I would no longer be able to see the horrors that your negligent parenting has wrought. Have you ever seen a punched vagina? How about oozing pus? Now imagine that's being offered to you by a 14 year old cock-addict who's standing in your office shaking because she hasn't had a semen fix in 20 minutes (I'm not a machine). Her genital regions have evaporated due to overuse and her mouth hinges open like a snake. When you found her, she was trapped under a 14-feet crust of her own dried vaginal fluid. That's your daughter in 3 months unless you bury her deep within the centre of the Earth, away from boys.

So what can you do? Nothing! My message is one of hand-waving and alarmism, backed up by as few facts as possible. Face it, your children are screwed - probably to death by a drifter - and it's your fault. Give up on the children you have and when the next one sloughs out: Don't let it out of your sight. Lock it in a glass box and paint it's genitals red for DANGER.

Dr. Perk von Mashin

WORLDWIDE BLOG UPDATE!

2005-04-06T16:13:00.000-07:00

Over at tapmouse KNITS, too! Tapmouse lets out a hearty "lol" over her new yarn in her post, "NEW YARN!!!" Apparently Tapmouse, always on the look out for yarn leads, got tipped-off about the yarn on "knit list" (or was it? she keeps us in suspense!). I have to hand it to Tapmouse, that's some awesomely beautiful yarn. I'd love to rub that all over my nutsack.

Redesign!

2005-04-03T13:49:00.000-07:00

I'm floored by my own brilliance.

With each passing day I become stronger...

2005-03-27T19:21:00.000-08:00

Spread COMMENT HERPES!

How to play:

Leave a comment here that says HELLO.
Now, go visit the person who commented above you and say Hello, Perkmashin says you have herpes!

Please play along.

Note to the first person commenting: simply say hello to me.

PLEASE RETURN MY FEEDING TUBE

2005-03-23T15:46:00.000-08:00

Let it be known, dear Internet, that if anything should ever happen to me, I want to be kept on life support for as long as fucking possible. I don't care how much pain I'm in or how much is costs or how "indignified" I look drooling and shitting all over myself. Keep me alive until medical science can make me into a robot. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to euthanasia. I think euthanasia is fantastic! FOR OTHER PEOPLE. I don't even care if my brain has turned to mush; just make it a robot with my basic likeness, a crushing grip, and a lust for revenge. But why should I have to wait for a hit and run or bulimia to destroy my body? Why can't I get my food tubed in now? That sounds sounds pretty damned convenient.

To recap: You all have herpes.

Congratulations!

2005-03-15T11:51:00.000-08:00

For those of you who found my blog through such search terms as "hippo doctor pictures", "scenes of pissing vaginas", and "naked 10 year old girls" - congratulations and, WELCOME!

Now on to this weeks competition: my porn folder contains two of the things described in the above search terms, the first person to guess which two wins my 2gb collection of hippo doctor pictures.

So...

2005-03-03T15:14:00.000-08:00

I would like to be serious for a moment. You may have noticed that I haven't posted in a while, there's a story behind that, but first I'd like to tell an anecdote about a hippopotamus that will make what I am about to tell you about myself easier to accept. There was once a hippopotamus named Hippo and he went to the Hippo Doctor because he'd been blacking out and having nose bleeds and the Hippo Doctor said he had some bad news. "Hippo," said the Hippo Doctor, "I'm afraid I have some bad news." As the Hippo Doctor explained to the hippo that the tumour in his brain was inoperable and that there was nothing he could do, tears began to stream down Hippo's leathery cheek. The two embraced awkwardly and after a time, without another word exchanged between them, Hippo went home to his cold apartment to contemplate what little time he had left. Hippo decided there was no longer any time in his life for frivolities such as blogging and the Internet and instead resolved to spend his remaining days with friends and family. Thus ends our anecdote. How does this apply to my situation you ask? Well, the cancer eating away at Hippo's brain is a lot like the laziness that eats away at mine, and while I'm not dying, I am lazy, the laziness being a lot like Hippo's fate, and while I haven't resolved to spend more time with friends and family, I am lazy, my laziness being much like Hippo's need to be with those closest to him in these dark, dark times.

Thank you for your attention.

Love is recording the exact time and date of her bowel movements in your diary

2005-02-12T16:55:00.000-08:00

12th February 2005 - Been locked in this closet for three weeks now. Urinating into an old cookie jar shaped like a cat. The top of its head unscrews. Every morning - at least I think it's morning, it's difficult to judge time in this unremitting darkness - when I wake up, I find that the cookie jar is empty, not even a trace of the urine I'd spent the night before. I've puzzled this through in my head but so far have reached no conclusion as to why or how it is happening. You may wonder what sort of strange luck would have it that I'd find a computer and an internet connection in a closet, but here's the thing: I didn't. The lack of sensory stimulation has had a curious effect on my perception, shards of time pass through me in a disconnected mélange. I am unsure of the order of events that have transpired in this closet, unsure of the lay of its land, which seems to expand around me in every direction, like a closet. Food is scarce, I have only the occasional spider to nourish me. Drink, however, is plentiful; I am unsure why or how it is happening but some good samaritan has been filling a nearby cookie jar with delicious lemonade. It reminds me of the lemonade my grandmother used to make. Such is my thirst, I drink every drop, them run my tongue around the cat-shaped porcelain form of the cookie jar until it is completely clean. I had always wondered what it would be like to run my tongue around the inside of a cat and I have not been disappointed.

Introduce yourself!

2005-01-28T13:39:00.000-08:00

So I've got the 13 year old girl demographic locked down tight. But who else reads my blog? Introduce yourself in the comments! All 3 of you.

Blogging Under Duress

2005-01-18T13:33:00.000-08:00

A lot of people have written in asking what happened to me. Here's one such letter:

Dear Perk,

What happened to you?

Sincerely,
Jim

The answer is simple: I've been training myself to become the ultimate fighting machine. Where by "fighting" I mean "masturbating" and by "training" I mean "masturbating" and by "ultimate" I mean "masturbating." You'd think I'd be sore but I'm not. Do you know why? Because I can't feel anything below my waist anymore. I have to have a machine that breathes for me, like Superman did before he died. If you've ever tried to masturbate more than eight times in one twenty-four hour period and also you're male, you've probably had the horror of feeling that weird clicking noise in your penis, like it was just pulled out of joint. But you know it doesn't have any joints, it's just a veiny mass of... penis. So what is that? That's its little heart breaking. If you record it and play it back at ten times less speed it says, "Stoooop iiitt, yoooouuu're huuuurtiiiing meeee." Well, I heard that fourteen times this weekend. And everytime I ejaculated I stopped to slap it and say, "How do you like it now?" And then I'd say it more silently than the first time, as if I was further away, "How do you like it-?" But I'd let the "now" trail off, then sometimes I'd make the sound of a train passing into the distance. And sometimes I'd do the train whistle, WOO WOO, as it went through a tunnel.

That's how you taunt a penis.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

2004-12-24T13:21:00.000-08:00

No matter what you're celebrating this holiday season, I'm content in the knowledge that you'll be burning in Hell for all Eternity if it's not Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ!

SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ONE AND ALL!

Noise

2004-12-19T11:49:00.000-08:00

One of the deepest questions an anthropologist can ask is, Where did something as stupid as 'music' come from? It took until the late 19th century to answer that question, but answer it we did: Cavemen, so science's infallible Pope 'Nature' tells us, invented music to drown out the annoying drip-drop of water in their caves. But why, then, do we still have music today?

As has been documented in important scientific journals, the sole reason modern man listens to music is to drown out the annoying drone of other people's music. You see, once Ug started beating his Sabre Tooth Tiger skin drums and playing a shell like a flute to drown out the Chinesily-torturous din of dripping water, his neighbour, Brak, had to play his boar-spine theremin to drown that out. And thus our present quagmire, where nobody can give up their arms (by which I mean violins) long enough to establish the music armistice that would lead to peaceful living.

You might ask: If a man's musical tastes are, as I can attest, simply a product of all the crap he's had to pretend he likes because he wanted to bone this or that particular chick, where do a woman's musical tastes come from? Male science tells us that girls can pass 'plasmids' containing genetic information between one another by rubbing their vaginas together at 'sleepovers.' These 'plasmids' contain information on what music to listen to, what clothes to wear, and which boys have small penises. Quite why some types of music are chosen over others is known only to the multivaginal Prime Matriarch that live at the centre of our Earth, covertly influencing the lives of we Above Worlders.

In the middle of the desert three mice are arguing over who among them has the most desert-appropriate saunter when a strange noise is heard

2004-12-04T20:36:00.000-08:00

"At these temperatures," the first mouse begins, "the saunter becomes something of an art."

The other two mice nod in agreement.

"To walk any less leisurely than absolutely leisurely is a sure death," adds the second mouse.

The first mouse begins a magnificent saunter, the movement of his feet barely noticeable as he glides along the desert floor on his hind legs at a near-perfect 45 degrees of laidback.

The second mouse claps, clearly impressed; the third mouse remains silent.

"Looking awfully smug, aren't we?" the first mouse says to the third mouse.

"Gentleman," says the third mouse, "throughout the entirety of our conversation I have been sauntering with such skill as to be barely percep-"

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The mice were startled.

A short parade of miniature elephants

2004-11-30T08:25:00.000-08:00

. . . . . .

I am special

2004-11-24T09:52:00.000-08:00

When I was 7 years old, my father came into my room and told me to undress. He said he was going to make a man out of me. Before long, we had both stripped down to just our underwear. He told me to put on his clothes and he, in turn, started to put on mine. I wore his suit and he wore my school uniform. "You better leave," he said, "the boss will be expecting you."

When I got to the office, his boss fucked my young ass raw.

AMERICA: Post-Ejaculation and Pissing Like a Watering Can

2004-11-08T14:27:00.000-08:00

Everyone remembers how in the last level of World War II Hitler came back as a robot, but how many people outside the US of A have even heard of "Ohio"? To understand the recent American election we must first understand the events leading up to it, even though our selection process will lead us to examine only anomalous, outlying events that, statistically, couldn't possibly have strong causal connections between one another and are therefore utterly useless for our goal of explanation. We call this "History," and it's what you do at college if you're too stupid for science but too straight for English Literature.

We begin at the Enlightenment, which was the first time people realised religion was stupid (disregarding all the other times). During the Middle Ages, which was probably before the Enlightenment - none of this really matters -, people thought religion was top banana, and wrote many great religious tracts we now systematically ignore, despite their being far more interesting than the banal materialism of contemporary philosophy. Also, they always drew neat pictures in their books, and made the first letter of each chapter all swish. Anyway, those fellas loved Jesus, and, as I said, it was a time of marvellous intellectual accomplishment, which paved the way for modern science, and also proved a lot of neat things about God, like the fact that His beard is infinitely long and infinitely white.

Meanwhile, on the doomed planet Krypton, scientist Jor-El puts his son Voltaire into the last remaining escape pod, his destination: Earth. The Kryponian Voltaire, gaining superhuman powers in Earth's delightfully quirky magnetic field, quickly overwhelmed the armies of Napoleon, taking control of France and forcing his phallocentric notion of "Reason" (always in quotes) on the masses. Caught in Voltaire's mind-grip, many otherwise God-fearing people wrote books about how Jesus was just some dude. Seeing these books, a bunch of guys decided to say "fuck you" to that, and started believing that the Bible was infallible and great. They were like the counter culture hippies of the time, except with more paedophilia. No longer welcome in Reason Street, France, they decided to go found their own country: America. They first landed on the sandy white shores of Ohio, where the very first thing they did (after killing the natives) was build a church and get to work molesting children and voting Republican.

Voltaire's alien empire floundered, but the Americans flourished, building vast cities on either side of their country and a whole bunch of pointless shit in the middle. The cities, however, had fallen out of the Ohioans rule, and other factions had seized power. Especially prominent were the Jews, a nomadic tribe of mystics, who, in their Kabbalic dabblings, accidentally created a new race of people from clay. Those people were called "gays," and the Jews enslaved them and put them to work at the Jewish-owned liberal media. The gays, being born of the Earth, did not need to find mates and procreate, so they just made out with each other. And while the gays were entertaining and saved on the shekels, the kissing was kind of icky and gross. Nobody in the cities was brave enough to speak out, for they feared the Jews, as well they should. In Ohio, however, there were no Jews, and the people were made of stronger stuff, and so it was put upon the Ohioans to put an end to the madness by calling forth by means of incantation the Demon Prince, George W. Bush, who vowed to destroy the gays and make all the people, even those in the cities, think the Bible is infallible and great.

I hope this history lesson has helped you to appreciate the dynamics of the 2004 US election.

Penis Puppetry

2004-10-28T17:19:00.000-07:00

What you'll need:

1. A Penis.

2. A captive audience, or a mirror.

Getting started:

First, ease your flaccid penis out of your pants in a way that emphasises its impressive heft. Now, turn it until it's horizontal. Take your thumb and forefinger and place them at opposite sides of the head and squeeze, causing the meatus to flare open. You should be immediately struck by its resemblance to a baby mole gasping for air. Practise varying the pressure and finger location until you can achieve a full range of facial expressions, from teasing pouts to horrified gasps. The more expressive your penis, the greater its story telling capacity.

Creating suspension of disbelief:

Penis Puppetry is a subtle art; there just aren't a great number of things a penis is capable of imitating. I tend to stick to stories about pythons, giant eels, and that liquid thing in James Cameron's The Abyss. It's important not to overtax your audience's imagination - or your penis - so you might prefer to start with a story about a feeble worm, or perhaps tell your audience to pretend they're far in the distance, looking at a slick baby otter orating from a riverbank.

Putting on the show:

Once you've mastered a range of expressions, it's now time to put on your first show. You're probably nervous right now, but you'd better sack up: we don't want Little Jimmy retracting into his shell like a scared tortoise on opening night! Here's some tips for putting on a good show,

1. You don't have to spend a lot of money on props; just use what you find around you. Grow out your pubic hair and comb it over like a wig. Use your balls as bean bags in a moving tale about love at a failing dot-com, or boulders in the serialised adventures of Indiana Johnson.

2. For amorous scenes, try smearing some Vaseline over the head of your penis to give it a soft glow.

3. If one of your characters dies, simply constrict the blood flow to your penis to see his face turn a pale blue. If one of your characters needs to get angry, simply get a throbbing hard-on; imagine the shock when your audience sees Penis Nicholson's engorged red face jutting forward as he screams, "You can't handle the truth!"

Good luck with the show!

I am a sexy man

2004-10-16T21:16:00.000-07:00

No more needs to be said.

An unfortunate encounter

2004-10-02T19:28:00.000-07:00

I've never really been a sea lion man. I mean, I have nothing against them, but they strike me as being kind of pompous. They're just big, uppity seals. The lions of the sea! I wonder if the name came about in the same way as Native "Indian" Americans. Some guy thinks he's in Africa and is like, Shit, a lion! Then he realises he's actually underwater and looking at a fat seal.

It was with apprehension I opened my door that Monday morning. I can't describe what was going through my mind, although it was something like spiky gyroscopes twisting and turning and becoming entangled with one another, floating in front of grey-blue kaleidoscope pattern that sometimes looked like a cityscape speeding by far below me, othertimes like square ripples in a metal pond. I'd heard the knock while masturbating; I wondered why they hadn't used the door bell and inadvertently ejaculated over my stomach. Not having anything to wipe myself down with, I had to scoop the semen up into a shot glass. This explains why so much time passed between the ominous knock and my apprehensive door opening.

There was nobody there. But the smell of fish hung in the air.

Babies!

2004-09-15T14:50:00.000-07:00

I've never heard of a baby committing a homicide, or a baby committing a robbery, so what's the big deal about babies? Child care is the easiest thing in the world: Just file down the edges on everything and you've negated every negative experience a child is capable of having, which makes a positive! They did experiments on this in the 60's, when it was still okay to do experiments (before science was outlawed!). Turns out, if you raise a child in isolation, nothing bad happens. It even learns to speak! Although not in any language we're capable of understanding. But still, you can't argue with complex verbalisations. The words and phonemes and such are arbitrary anyway: Linguistics 101. Okay, maybe you have to stop them swallowing their tongues, but what does an elastic band cost these days?

Exactly!

You hear a lot about families and strengthening families and "the children," but it's all nonsense. Experiments done by the US airforce in the 60's (see!) showed that the average baby can withstand 700 cubic pounds of force. That's like being fired from a cannon into another cannon that was fired from an even larger cannon and is in turn firing a robot! Babies are stronger than asphalt, yet you'd never drive your car over your baby - why? Because you're ignorant! If history has taught us anything it is this: children are resilient and families are flexible. You can throw an entire parade of gays at family values and it'll just absorb them like some sort of ominous biomatter, its fleshy, chameleonic dermis turning all the colours of the rainbow in a vivid celebration of diversity. Then it will consume us all!

I think more young men living in rural areas fuck chickens than we tend to imagine

2004-09-12T17:20:00.000-07:00

I grew up on a farm. We didn't have chickens and I didn't really grow up there because we left when I was only 4. However, if we'd had chickens and we'd stayed there until I became sexually mature I'm pretty sure there would've been some chicken fucking. As it stands, we moved somewhere without any farm animals and I had to make do with inanimate objects.

But the urge is there in all men.

Seriously.

The haves and the have-nots

2004-09-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

Think of the poor, swaggering around in their synthetic fibres, eating their processed foods. Meanwhile, Richie Rich is still eating wild game and wearing animal hides like a fucking caveman. You need only visit match.com to realise the bottom feeders take to technology first. Every trailer has a satellite dish, while the more "refined" among us watch people perform on stage like it's still 5th century BC. While the dregs of society shoot up on heroin (1874 AD) to relieve stress, those of disposable income hedgehog themselves with needles like Han dynasty Chinese (202 BC). Now, you can argue that the haves get to have it all, but that's not the point we're establishing here: Innovation, for the most part, makes things cheaper and more widely available. While the poor reap the benefits of technology, the rich have been in retreat for the last 7,000 years, inventing ever more fictional ways to differentiate themselves. I like balloons!

There's no clear answer to the problem my scrotum poses for science

2004-08-31T11:49:00.000-07:00

Seriously. It's like a paper-thin sack filled with porridge today. Yesterday it was like two golf balls covered in hardened sediment. Some days it sways freely, others it's taut and firm. I like to let it spill over my chair on its more fluid days and watch its hypnotic ebb and flow. It looks alive. On particularly hot days, it courses down my left thigh in a slick mass of sticky liquid meat. I like to think it's trying to escape its too-humid home and make its way to my ankle, where the weather is, I imagine, more hospitable.

I think we grossly underestimate the complexity of Nature. Some might say my scrotum only exists to protect my testicles from tigers, but really it's an ecology onto itself, teeming with life. It has its own story to tell and we would be wise to listen closely, to press our ears against it and genuinely attend to its bristling message. That's the real beauty of Nature: you could earn a degree in either one of my balls. And you probably should.

The moral ambiguity of a video I once saw in which a woman had sex with a dog

2004-08-28T09:17:00.000-07:00

They both looked happy. I'm not sure what the problem is. I mean, sure, a dog can't consent to sex, but a dog can't consent to not having sex either.

You can't argue with that logic.

Letter to a fan

2004-08-26T11:45:00.000-07:00

That's what you're really afraid of, the feeling of enjoying life. The sense that, Yeah, that's it. That's all there is. But moreover, This is what's right for me. And that's why you'll always be an elephant, stuck at the zoo, while I reign triumphant in the world of man. I know how it feels to be gawked at by school children all day. Believe me, I've been there. But the moment I accepted that I'm a hippopotamus, things changed. The female hippopotami started to take an interest in me. That's what they want, a hippopotamus who's willing to be a hippopotamus. And I don't resent them for it, because I finally realised that it's okay to be a hippopotamus. After all, I am one. A hippopotamus. I am a hippopotamus. It still feels good to say it. And no sooner had I accepted it than things started to happen for me. First came Betsy, my girlfriend. She's wonderfully rotund. Before the change, I used to look at the other couples in the pen, always bickering and arguing, and thank God I wasn't a part of that. I'm my own hippo, I thought. I do what I want, when I want. But Betsy and the kids are the best thing that ever happened to me. Next came the promotion. I was no longer just an attraction at the zoo, they were letting me run the place. Were they mad? Some have said so. But I took to it. I never thought of myself as a leader, a visionary. But I took to it. Before I knew it I had two zoos, then a franchise. I now own 136 zoos in 11 countries. Don't believe me? Look it up. I'm right there, number one hundred and six, on the Forbes rich list.

It's the fear of mediocrity that keeps you down. You have to wallow in the mud with the rest of the hippos, because it's the mud that makes the world tick. I don't know if elephants wallow in mud, but elephants do something, and that's what you should start doing. Be an elephant. Rush into things. Do that cool thing with your trunk, like you're blowing a horn. That's the elephant battle cry. This probably seems paradoxical to you. It probably seems strange to say that you need to accept mediocrity before you can attain success. But it's true. It's Zen. Nobody ever got rich off an idea. Forget about that. You know, I see a million kids like you. Elephants, penguins, rhinoceri. They're all thinking the same thing: If I could just come up with an idea, the idea... But nobody ever got rich off an idea. They got rich off being in the right place at the right time. You can never know where the right place is, not for sure, it's just a matter of probability and statistics. But you can be sure as heck it's not on the sidelines, you can be sure that wherever it is, it's in the mud with the other hippos. Or wherever elephants do, because I don't know what elephants do. But that's where success is, among the mediocrity. In the mud. And the more mud you can stand, the more chances you have.

I hope your sister gets well soon. Cancer is a bitch.

The colour green and a note on politics

2004-08-25T17:44:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to think of a colour and then concentrate on it really hard. Today I thought of the colour green. For two hours I gave the colour green my utmost consideration. In much of the following, I will endeavour to articulate my various thoughts on the colour green. But first I would like to say a few words about politics. I think opinions are a lot like houses, with furniture and people living inside them using the furniture for things like sitting and eating lunch. Houses aren't fire-resistant (millions of people die in house fires every week) and neither are opinions. Houses don't have wheels, but opinions do. That's where houses and opinions differ. It's important to note that the colours were not the colours per se until artificial means of creating colour were derived at various times over the course of history. It was only when, for example, we learned to create a green powder fine enough to be mixed with water and spread over an arbitrary surface, that green became something in its own right, rather than the green of grass or leaves. It is perhaps worthwhile to consider colour an illusion; that grass is not green, rather green, grassy.

The important thing about houses is that everybody has one, except the extremely poor, who can't afford them, and the young, who tend to reside in the houses of their parents.