Welcome to "There Is No Dog". This is where I uncork my ears and pour wine into your eyes.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010


Hey, has anyone tried this Omegle thing? Oh man, I am hooked! You're paired with an anonymous person and they're all like "asl” and you're all like "21, male, usa" and they're all like "Your conversational partner has disconnected because your genitalia have the same function and mannerisms".

I like to sign on and tell people that I am "Guilt" manifested. I'll say silly and fun things like "morality is subjective" and "it's impossible to know anyone because we're all putting up a facade to deflect true connection because we're content in being miserable" and "we're all so close to the breaking point of sanity that giving in to all sadist, hedonist desires we harbor would destroy our shell but maybe save our souls" and other rib-ticklers like "there is no God, why the fuck would there be and why would he have compassion?" and "that resisting the urge to end our lives and fighting our inevitable death is just letting the cosmic joker have his laugh."

I find doing this to be good, lighthearted fun like we used to know back when we were kids. Oh boy, remember being kids? I mean the good parts, not the parts we repress deep within us that simmer and boil until the steam rises to the surface as mental illness in our later years. Man, being a kid was great. Always getting into trouble, making fun of gay people, wanting to have sex with ALL THE BOOBS IN THE WORLD.

But now we're adults and fun is harder to come by. After all, appearances are everything and appearing fulfilled is better than being happy, according to our television overlords who so graciously allow us the privilege of living vicariously through them.

What is fun? Is it a rock? Is it a boa constrictor? Is it a flan? Is it still fun if someone gets hurt but the person who gets hurt is a racist?

Fun happens by accident. Real fun, that is. You can induce artificial fun with sugar and adderol. You can turn the shower really really cold for a few seconds then turn it back to the numbing heat you need to simulate the touch of another passenger here on spaceship earth, and be like "Brrr! That was fun!" But real fun happens only a few times a year. Well, that's if you're aware of the hopelessness and bleaknessness of life outside your Family Guy DVD box set. Otherwise your whole life is probably fun. How many of your friends can do the voice of the pedophile who whistles his "s" noises? I bet they can't do it as well as your friend who goes by his last name!

Ex; Here's when fun happens: as it happens, funny? Y/N, nufs? Nep. Pah... 'Tis a "snep". Pah! Nu'F'n. Eh, W? Se, re, hXe.

Another time fun happens is when you are watching fireworks on the beach in the rain with your babe and she's all like, "Babe, I wish it was raining so we could kiss in the rain." And you say, "Babe, today's your lucky day babe: It's raining already babe! We did it, babe! This is what they told us about babe! This was what was written in prophesy babe! This is life, and it's happening IN THE RAIN BABE! Kiss me you fool!" and then you mack on each other.

You might resent fun for not being around all the time. Fun is hard to come by. Running into fun is about as likely as running into someone you went to high school with at a Walme-Arte in your home town. It's not all that weird, but it doesn't happen all the time and it usually doesn't and it's always uncomfortable so you try to end it fast. Fun might resent YOU because it's hard to come by YOU. That's some vice-versa shit, and it was uncalled for and I apologize. That vice-versa shit can really bring a babe down, especially if you're in the middle of macking on her. The point is, Fun wishes it could stay in touch with you, but it's friendship with you is only at the point of leaving a birthday message on your wall, and it thinks you'd think it was weird if it just left you a comment on your status out of the blue.

Fun is that Facebook thing I just said. Or something else, I don't know. Haven't you realized I'm talking out of my heart? The ass has more to say and says it without bullshit self-loathing symbolism.