Encyclopedias, Manginas and Pancreatic emanations

Remember the days when wondering about shit was how we all did it? You know, a question would pop into your head like, “who invented the light bulb?” (Thomas Edison- Thank you, Google.)  How would we have ever known that before? I know. I thought it was Andrew Lloyd Bulb until about ten minutes ago.  This is proof that your friends don’t know everything, but I really never got to know my teachers that well and had to pick this stuff up in the street.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I had Charlie Brown’s teacher from kindergarten all the way through to when I graduated in 8th grade.  My point is, guys like me can now appear to be a lot more educationed because the internet has it all.

As usual, it occured to me when the sis and I were wrapping on this same subject.  I was explaining to her that I use to wonder a lot more.  A question would pop into my head, I’d ponder it and search my brain for the answer, and then file it in the unanswered question archive in my head.  God knows the last thing I would do is seek out a book on the subject at the liberry, or go anywhere near the encyclopedias that all families were required to have by law.  And of course, that made me wonder about the encyclopedia salesman.  Can you imagine someone knocking on your door today and trying to sell you encyclopedias? Surely he’s there to kill you. Or at least that’s what you’re going to think. Or at least I am.  Anyway, I’m killing him.  You do you whatever you want, but if he leaves with money and you’ve got encyclopedias and your face, then color me surprised.

"Knowledge is power, you see. The gold bound set is particularly attractive, and your kindness certainly warrants me to offer you a free gift with your purchase. By the way, that's a wonderful aroma emanating from your pancreas. May I come in?"

"Knowledge is power, you see. The gold bound set is particularly attractive, and your kindness certainly warrants me to offer you a free gift with your purchase. By the way, that's a wonderful aroma emanating from your pancreas. May I come in?"

Typically, just about any question you can think of has the answer awaiting you when you type it into that little search prompt.  Sometimes it doesn’t work out because sometimes they aren’t really questions, but statements. For example: I’d rather have a vagina than a penis.  This is one of the search terms used to find my post, “I’m glad I don’t have a vagina.”  I doubt I helped.  Here I am touting the many virtues of penisdom, and this guy is ready to trade his in. I like to think he read it and said to himself, “Yeah, this guy is right. Penises are way better.”  Not that I care if he has his penis surgically inverted to a mangina, though I wouldn’t recommend it. No one should ever cut his penis in half lengthwise and fold it inside his pelvis (Yes, this is the penis to vagina conversion process, another pearl of knowledge for which I can thank the internet.)  That’s no way to treat a perfectly functioning penis. If you want to be a woman, you can dress up like a woman and men will still do you despite your owning a penis.  Many will even consider it a bonus, and these are really the kind of guys that you’re looking for, anyway.  A man that doesn’t mind your mangina is the same man that won’t mind you having a johnson.  All I ask is that you do not  trick me into putting my whole penis between the two halves of your inverted and sliced penis. I know you think you’ve taken the necessary steps to make me okay with this, but what you’re really asking is for me to rub my penis against your mutilated penis. This isn’t going to work for me, but I do appreciate and am flattered by your interest. 

This is exactly what I'm talking about. How would I know? Yes, you're cute and though seemingly irresistible, there are some telltale signs here that the untrained eye might not pick up on. For instance, look at the way she's lighting her cigarette. Also, no self respecting woman would own such a manly sofa. If I had met her at a bar and she was out of cigarettes, I would have easily been entrapped in the mangina.

This is exactly what I'm talking about. How would I know? Yes, you're cute and though seemingly irresistible, there are some telltale signs here that the untrained eye might not pick up on. For instance, look at the way she's lighting her cigarette. Also, no self respecting woman would own such a manly sofa. If I had met her at a bar and she was out of cigarettes, I would have easily been entrapped in the mangina.

Yet again, I sit down to write a post about one thing and I end up on a tangent about penises and vaginas, so clearly I have some issues that should be discussed with a therapist. 

So let’s circle back to my original point. It wasn’t until I had every answer at my fingertips until I fully realized how comfortable I was with wondering about stuff.  I mean, when a lot of people can’t figure out something, it might drive them crazy until they do. Not me.  To this day I’ll sit in front of my computer and needlessly wonder even though I don’t have to.  My hunger for knowledge is… well… let’s just say I’m not too hungry.  I never have been, and I’m okay with it.  Some may call it laziness, and man, I’d have a hard time arguing that point with you, but I don’t think that’s entirely it.  I think back to a time before books and schools and jobs and algebra.  A time where the only thing that mattered was family, food and survival.  A time when we lived to live and learned what we learned because life taught us because we needed to know it, not because we chased the lesson for a good job or a sense of self worth or to impress others with our knowledge. We were perpetually curious, and maybe even better off (I am pretty lazy, though, so let’s not discount this as my problem.)

15 Comments

  1. Now I’ve figured out where all of the computer viruses come from—encycolpedia salesmen!!!! Those bastards.

  2. Now I’ve figured out where all of the computer viruses come from—encyclopedia salesmen!!!! Those bastards.

  3. Nice double commenting heh? The first time I incorrectly spelled “encyclopedia” and thought I could fix it while my comment was loading. You’ll see three comments and be all “wuhoo” and it will all be me. Ha ha, except everyone will know about my dyslexic fingers. Damn double edged swords.

    • Damn you. That’s exactly what happened. And then I noticed your funky icon 3 times thinking “oh, someone has the sam icon as Apryl” and then I’m like, “its Apryl. wtf?” Then I read the comments and I’m laughing at you for being a retard, then I read the last one and I’m like Fuck! She totally turned her own retard moment into a joke on me. And that, people, is my sister… ohhh 3 comments, what do we have here… damn you. You look funny when you run.

      • You look funny when you’re not running.

  4. I had this same realization when my 5 year old son went to school and asked his teacher a question. She didn’t have the answer, so he told her it was OK if she didn’t know she could just google it. I decided I should take him to the library more.

    • Im sorry, what’s a library? Hold on, to google we roll… ok… got it. Will you look at that. Books. Rows and rows. Are those real or is this a museum? Interesting… well, I don’t know your son very well, but i don’t think he’s going to like it.

      Seriously, good for you. There’s a movie called “Idiocracy” that I highly recommend for it’s incredibly low-brow humor and vision of the future. Not necessarily for the boy, but if you read this blog then definitely nothing you can’t handle.

  5. I love google a lot and everything, but it’s the epitome of the old “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” homily. You google something, end up somewhere like on my blog or Ashton Kutcher’s Twitter and think you have the answer to all your questions when in reality you only have a lot of shite, which you then go on to tell or write somewhere else, which other people then read and go on to tell even more people and before you know it, the shite becomes the fact. I reckon in another 10 years everything we think we know will just be a bunch of regurgitated shite. They’ll be teaching this shite in schools. Important people will be basing all their decisions on shite. Shite will become self-perpetuating. It’s a little scary.

    • Shite will become the new Truth. So it’ll be OK.

    • I can only hope that one day my posting inaccuracies are accepted as fact. That will be really neat.

      • That’s what I’m aiming for. You probably never read my explanation of why Subway restaurants smell so bad (See 5 Mysteries of the Universe Explained) A few weeks later I was walking by a Subway with a couple of women approaching and one was explaining to the other exactly why Subway restaurants smell so bad and she was using my explanation. And she seemed completely serious about it. That was way cool.

  6. If it weren’t for Google, I wouldn’t know a lot of the things I know about my body. Like that I have leprosy on my leg.

  7. I think what you have is called “brain-orexia”. Anorexia is when you don’t feed your body food. Brain-orexia is when you don’t feed your brain knowledge. Un-scrunch your face. It’s a real thing. Google it.

    • Turns out maybe it isn’t a real thing. I think I just broke Google. For the first time in the history of the universe, I searched for something and Google just looked at me like “wha?”

    • I’m just going to take your word for it.


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