autobiography Blog

organ donor*

I am proud to be listed as an organ donor.  If, heaven forbid, a pack of wild rhinoceros tramples me to death but leaves a viable kidney or liver, I hope that part of me can be placed inside another human being so that they can live a better life.

I was horrified to learn that the current human manifestation of Satan, Dick Cheney, received a heart transplant today.  There was a decent, caring human being who died today, and that person’s heart is now beating for the man who is responsible for more civilian death than the terrorists who flew planes into the World Trade Center.  This is an atrocity.

This is a list of the people to whom my organs are not allowed to be donated under any circumstances.  I just hope the paramedics who retrieve my lifeless corpse read this blog before they stick my heart in a cooler packed with dry ice.

Dick Cheney
Fred Phelps
Pat Robertson
George HW Bush
George W Bush
Donald Rumsfeld
Henry Kissinger
Michael Bay

There are bad people in other countries who I won’t allow my organs to go to either, but the chances of certain Presidents of Iran wanting an American heart beating beneath their rib cages is probably slim.

If technology eventually allows Richard Nixon’s cryogenically frozen body to be reanimated and they need an organ or two to complete the puzzle, I will allow my organs to go to him.

Blog comic

valentine’s day

family monster 2-23-2005

Today is a special day. In some cultures it is known as “The Day of The Beating Heart,” in which village elders rip the living heart out of a bear. They then pass the heart around in a circle. Whoever holds the heart when it stops beating is prophesied to die within the year.

In American culture, February 14th is Valentine’s Day. Today (or probably last Friday, since today’s not a school day) schoolchildren pass out hearty shiny cards to all their classmates. You find out if anyone has a secret crush on you. When you realize nobody does, you get to spend the rest of the day in the nurse’s office pretending you have strep throat.

It’s hard to decide which culture has the worse tradition.

This year, I want to put a stop to all the horrible heartbreak. I’m making this post a love note to all my readers. Not in a gross way. Thank you, dear readers, for putting up with this blogger. You inject my heart with steroids that make it swell against my rib cage.

If one of my readers happens to be Chan Marshall, please go here. If one of my readers happens to be Rachel McAdams, please go here. And if one of my readers happens to be Rashida Jones, well, this video’s for you: