Here's two from last December. I'll have new content soon. (I hope.)

Vile Creatures 12-13-04

I hate most pets. A friend has a ferret and a cat that was, until recently, a kitten.

First, ferrets. They smell awful. I think of it as shit musk. If you boiled some cologne in a dead monkey's ass, added flour for coagulation, distilled the flour back out after three years of storage on a restaurant foodwarming tray, mixed that with jalapeno corn dog diarrhea, and finally sprayed it from an old Aquanet hairspray can, you would have the equivalent of what a ferret smells like.

Now for cats. Even I am susceptible to cute kitten adoration syndrome, but I am not fooled by this display. I know that they grow up to knock over beverages, scratch up couches, and claw your sleeping eyeballs open when they are hungry. My friend's cat likes me, so it keeps trying to cuddle or use my head for a napkin. I keep knocking the damn thing away. Not violently, but forcefully. The little bastard thinks it's a game now. I cannot win with this cat. If I had a bottle of ferret spray I bet I could chase it away quickly.

Now for the worst abomination, which thankfully this friend does not own. Dogs. I cringe when I see people play licky smoochy with their dogs. That tongue was licking its own asshole right before it licked your nose. I know you can smell it. You're probably used to it because dogs have horrid breath anyways. That comes from gnawing dehydrated bones, chewing on squirrel corpses, and licking their own assholes. In that order. Don't get me started on the drooling, the shedding hair, the genealogical pathology for attention, or the barking at insects.

I once had a tarantula. It ate and shit crickets only in the dark. I had long hair at the time and my neighbor got tired of untangling it from my ponytail when I let it crawl on my head and face, and my mother was terrified of it, but it's an ideal pet. That and fish. The spider sheds infrequently, and unlike hairshedding mammals, it sheds in one piece. It only makes messes in your terrarium. (Because only a madman would allow it to roam freely. It could get lost!)

Did I say fish are okay, too? Yep, I did. Other acceptable forms of vanity lifeform ownership include: small lizards (not igunanas they are shit geysers), small rodents (caged!), and electronic Japanese pet simulators.

I don't like children either.

Fondue Le Fontanel 12/28/04

I found myself at the supermarket the other day.

Who eats headcheese? This is the fruitcake of organ meats. As far as I can tell, brains and guts are mushed together into blocks and sliced as a deli meat for elderly people. Go ahead, replace your cheese on crackers with brain putty spread on toasted ligament chips. Tell me how it tastes.

For all I know it could be a delicacy on par with caviar. I've heard that most caviar tastes like mold or mud, and rich people gobble that up.

I'm considering starting a business/community service. The service? I would round up all the homeless winos and scrape them off. All the layers of dead skin, alley grime, caked vodka vomit, and shavable scruff would all be removed, gently of course. The business? Mashing all that crap together into blocks, and selling it at the deli. The meat slicers might get caught on the occasional fingernail trimming, but the outrageous price I would charge for this carefully cultivated gourmet cut would offset the costs of an occasional slicer breakdown. I proudly present: Hobo Scrape.

If you are among the poor who cannot afford such a luxury as hobo scrape, you can make your own. Go to the supermarket and look for the Salvation Army santa ringing the bell outside. Brain him with a heavy object. Peel his santa outfit off. Gently scrape him off with a butter knife, paying special care and attention to the feet, particularly underneath the toenails.

Repeat as necessary. It may take several assaults before you have a cupful. Take this mixture to the produce section. Hold it under the moisture sprayers that keep the lettuce dewy. Three spritzes should be sufficient. Grab some potatoes and butter. Run like hell to the 10 items or less line. Fight your way ahead of the blue-haired old lady reading the National Enquirer article about Princess Di's last crap in a toilet. Go home, studiously avoiding the ambulance treating the naked santa out front. Shred potatoes into a hash browns like substance, and butter fry all of it together. The poignant taste of the scrape should inform the blank culinary canvas of the potatoes, providing you a cheap yet plentiful taste of the high life. Add foot cream for a smoother texture. Goes well with Cabernet Sauvignons or Pinot Grigios.

If I succeed and become a food product magnate, my second nutritious gift to mankind will be placenta pancakes. Abortion doesn't have to be wasteful, nor does miscarriage. Why let all the vitamins and minerals from that third trimester midnight pickles and ice cream binge go wasted? Just imagine umbilical jerky! Pickled in garlic! Stem cell salad! I promise not to hurt any dolphins. 11:03 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm