19 April 2010

When A Man Is A Woman

So I was thinking, casually of course, what would the experience of giving birth be like for a man? What would be going through his mind? What would his soul be experiencing? What exactly would happen to him?

As I thought about this, I figured that the only way to articulate my thoughts would be to do it in screenplay form. Thus, without further ado, I present to you:

a film by Jonathan Martin

A man is rushed on a medical cart, doctors surrounding him. There is panic as the man SCREAMS in agony. This man is TED. Ted is a 30 something male, just like you. He's sweating, and he's heaving.

A NURSE approaches the head DOCTOR. Both are panicked, sweating, and have the shit confused out of them.
Get this man into the ER, and stat! I think he's about to give birth?!

What the shit are you talking about, man? I'm just an intern. I wasn't taught how to cope with this shit, man. I've still got two years left, and right now, I'm thinking about getting the fu---

Calm yourself, Davis! I need you. We've got a skeleton crew tonight, and I'm not going to let this man die!

With that, TED begins to scream.
What's happening to me? This hurts! It hurts like a son of a bitch!

We think you might be pregnant.

Tell me something I don't know, you FUCK!

I think he's going into shock.

I'm going to bury my knuckle into your vagina!

I think his water broke.

The nurse and the doctor both look down, and see nothing but a sticky wetness all over. The nurse keels over and pukes into a waste basket as they haul Ted into the ER/Delivery room.

I think I'm going to die, man. I'm going to die, man!

Suck it up, you pussy!

The doctor and the nurse work frantically on the man. They've splayed his legs out, and Ted starts to moan and mumble incoherently. The Doctor puts on his mask as the nurse stands by his side, gloved up and ready to roll.

I swear on my mother's grave, I will never sleep with a waitress again.

All right, let's see what we have here--- What the shit?!

What is it?

I don't believe it... It can't be. He's... He's giving birth through his rectum!


Do you want me to hold him down or something?

I don't know.

I've got a gun. Let me kill him. Put him out of his misery. He doesn't deserve this kind of pain, man.

Do it! Kill me! Please!

Damnit, boy. I won't have this man's blood on my hands!

Too late!

The Doctor looks down at his hands. They are covered in blood. He looks at the floor below him. Blood all over.

Shit. We're losing him. Its going to have to come now. PUSH!

Oh my...

Its coming out of my ass!!! Get it out! Get it out!

How did... Okay... Okay... Breathe. Push! PUSH!

Ted starts screaming as he pushes. Veins are popping out of his head, and the screams are deafening. The Nurse passes out, and slip on the puddle of blood on the floor.

I see it. It's crowing. Keeping pushing!

I hate you, ass hole.

It's coming out. For the love of all that is good and holy, what is that?!

A fist emerges from out of the sheet covering Ted's legs... and continues to grow. Its the size of a small man's arm.

No. It can't be.

Get it out of me! I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I hate my wife!

Suddenly, a small sized man, about 4 feet tall, explodes out of the sheet and slides across the floor of the operating room. Its covered it fluids and gnarly substance. Ted is crying. Suddenly, the newborn CHILD stirs to life, and grunts.

It's alive! It lives!

Kill it! Kill it now!

The child rises, and turns towards its horrified father.



So, uh... yeah... that's pretty horrifying. I think I just wrote out my nightmare.

29 December 2009

The Legend of Yngwie Malmsteen

Born in the Year of Our Lord 1963, Yngwie Malmsteen literally exploded out of his mother's womb in Stockholm, Sweden. The great grandson of Viking warriors, Yngwie came out swinging an axe and has been shredding ever since.

Raised by his father, Sir Gunther Von Malmsteen, Yngwie was taught the trades of his father: Ass-kicking, cocaine snorting, and the art of looking amazing with a shirt open. Like his father, Yngwie was raised for four years by a pack of wolves in the artic tundra of northern Sweden. He supped from the teets of the wolves, which gave him strength, and frequented the Den Mother's parlor for wisdom and insight into the universe.

This would all come together when at the age of 10, Yngwie formed his first band "The Ecstasy of My Emperor", which would go on to sell 3 million albums in Sweden by the time he was 12. Bored with this endeavor, Yngwie knew it was time to take it up a notch.

With the blessing of his mother, whom he would sup with on a yearly basis, Yngwie journeyed across the plains of Asia, eventually coming across a caravan of Tibetan monks. Amongst those he would later call his "brethren", Yngwie would master the art of the shred. Consuming a massive amount of mind enhancing drugs, Yngwie would hit scales of 100,000 notes before stopping. It is now a known fact that the weight of Yngwie's shredding in the 70's led to the mass extinction of Russian Tigers and the Dodo due to brain hemorrhaging.

When 1980 came about, Yngwie was now ready to share with the world the gift of rock. Releasing his first solo album in 1982, Yngwie brought peace to the Middle East, and eventually, held an audience with Pope John Paul II. John Paul was a devout believer in the power of Yngwie's rock, and was overheard at mass once saying, "Lord, please bless your children in the coming decade, but above all else, bless your Holy Son Yngwie Malmsteen, he who shreds mighty ass, and brings forth the Rock of Ages, that we your unworthy children have yearned so long for. Amen."

Suddenly, in 1994, Yngwie vanished. The world didn't know what happened to him, and eventually even ESPN were doing hourly updates on the whereabouts of the Rock God. The world waited and watched for six years (seasons in Yngwie time), until finally, at the stroke of midnight in New York City, Yngwie returned.

Appearing in a descending beam of light from the Heavens above, Malmsteen wore an open red robe adorned with the feathers of an Eagle as he shredded his guitar and eventually exploded the head of all the fake Sadam Hussein's who were listening intently, thus opening the way for Gulf War 2, and the expulsion of the real Sadam.

Today, we live in the presence of greatness, as Yngwie continues to rock our asses off with the gift of the Gods above, the gift of rock. If your daughters are chosen to be sired by Mr. Malmsteen, take upon this honor he has given you, and pray that he gives your daughters many sons, for then you shall know Yngwie has smiled upon you.

It is predicted that by 2035, world peace will have been achieved through the power of Yngwie Malmsteen. His legend grows daily, and soon, he will bring forth fruit good for the world to consume through the power of his notes.

Satan beware, for as Yngwie once told a distressed woman onboard a plane, "I'm bringing the fucking heat!"

23 November 2009

Olay Olay Olay Olay

As some of you wisely know, I'm a fan of Real Salt Lake, also known as RSL.

Tonight, they did something that I honestly didn't imagine could possibly happen. Yes, they won the MLS Cup in only their fifth year of existence, and will forever more don a star on their jersey. Yes, they dropkicked Beckham, and stopped the announcers blow job of Landon Donovan in the middle of the receiving.

However, what I didn't see coming was that the Armies of Xenu would break forth from their cage in the Caligula System and try to wield an unholy sword over the good citizens of Seattle. In an epic struggle for life and death, the RSL Captain Kyle Beckerman unsheathed his hammer and proceeded to bring down holy fire upon the aliens. Viewers all over the globe were in awe as we not only witnessed a dazzling display of soccer, but also witnessed the downfall of Scientology's most vile of villains before our very eyes.

As Xenu wept at the feet of Nick Rimando, a chant went out through the land: "Kill! Kill! KILL!" And there, before an audience of 750,000 live viewers, Rimando gave Xenu mercy. He said unto him, "Go, lay out your folly to the supporters of LA this day. Do your bidding amongst them, so that they might follow you back into your shallow grave. You are not, and never have been, welcome amongst us at RSL. Weep, and know that on this day you and your Galaxy fell."

With this, Xenu cowered away and David Beckham took him by his hand, kissed it, and they both left weeping, ass backwards towards the Great Pit of Carkoon.

Thusly did the victorious RSL hoist the MLS Cup, and sup from its mighty basin.

It was a night of glory, high adventure and emotion, and most of all, it was a night the world will never forget when the overmatched and outmanned army of RSL overcame the forces of Xenu, whose vile LA Galaxy could not overcome the powers of righteousness.


25 October 2009

She Wants Revenge


I think it's the way they stink. It stinks so good. I hope we've all experienced the rich aromatic stink of a woman's skin, and the way it is only enhanced the closer we put our faces to their bodies. I find it intoxicating, and I'm sure my manlier friends feel the same way.

Let me just say this: Women of the world, don't ever change the way you smell once you've reeled a man in. We fall in love with you in large part because of this scent. So don't go doing anything stupid now.

You know what's another thing that's fantastic about a woman? Their hair. Now, I'm not talking necessarily about some dykey haircut. I'm talking about full, bouncy hair. The kind that falls off their neck and shoulders, and is dark and rich and full of passion. The kind of hair that you just want to smother your face in and use as your pillow for the night. It's Havana Nights in curlers.

A woman with great hair is already making a man think crazy.

But you know what else makes a man crazy?

A woman that wants to kill.

There are some women out there my friends who are beautiful, charming, and own an extensive gun collection. Do we want these kind of women? It's a very serious question. I would tread carefully, and say yes. You want a woman who can kill. For you see, it's not necessarily about the size of her rack, but rather, the size of her lust for blood.

But why? Why not!

A woman who kills likes steak. Red steak. She wants the beef. She wants to watch football with you. She wants to play Xbox Live with her xXKillFace84Xx gamertag, and craves Gears of War 2 chainsaw battles. She laughed in Bambi. They lust for revenge.

Being honest, they're pretty much perfect women.

Look, some women just want attention. Some women just want to be appreciated. Some women want to be loved.

And some women just want to kill.

05 October 2009

The Rules Of Manhood In The 24th Century

Since the 24th century is now upon us all, I realized I was past due on updating you all on how to be a man in this brave new world. Naturally, you're asking yourself, "Jonathan, how can I become a man in this bold frontier?" Well, I'm glad you came around, because I'm here to tell you how it's done.

Rule #1: Get a good blaster by your side.
Some might call this a ray gun, or a phaser and what have you. The point is, it's a gun that shoots hot red laser bolts. I can't emphasize this enough. I've found myself in the thick of battle in one too many strange bars and cantinas out there, scamming some equally strange tail, and if it weren't for "The Duke", I wouldn't be here writing this guide.

Rule #2: Alien tail is FAN-tastic!
Truly, there is nothing like grabbing some strange ass out there in the big bad galaxy. Just the other day I was cruising through the Crab Nebula, popped into the local diner, and saw the most bodacious broad this side of Scorpio. She was blue. She had red hair. She had fangs. She literally had a tail. It was hot. I tapped that shit. Do the same. You haven't lived until you've smelled what another woman's world smells like.

Rule #3: Invest in a fast ship.
All too often, we look at the cosmetics of a cruiser. Sure, we want the best looking ride available, but it's all about the personality, man. Don't be all bent out of shape over what she looks like on the outside, because it's the inside that counts. Whether you're smuggling beef steaks to the prisoners of Titan, or on a science mission to the Globular Cluster, remember - it's all about performance. A great ride will take you places my friend. Get something that defines you... not that alien wench in the cabin.

Rule #4: Under no circumstances are you ever, ever allowed to blow dry your hair.
This, sir, makes you a pussy. I need not explain myself further.

Rule #5: Dress to be comfortable, not for success.
Look, this isn't Starfleet. This is the 24th century! Crime is at an all time high, rebels are in the Outer Rim, and you can't even trust the woman you sleep with these days. The facts are, you've got to be ready to roll at any time lest the Po-Po's bust a cap in you. What do I recommend? Nothing like a good henley, some knee high leather boots, and a vest. Oh, and don't forget a good blaster.

Rule #6: Crucial. You are not, nor will you ever be, Captain James T. Kirk.
The man is a legend that can only be aspired to, and never attained. When you learn this lesson, you my friend, will be ready for the 24th century.

Rule #7: Shoot first.
Be like Han.

07 September 2009

Vampires. What's up?

I make my triumphant return unto you, my loyal and faithful readers, with a subject not very dear to my heart, but fun no less. Of course, what I'm going to write about and I'm sure you've already guessed, is Vampires.

What is it about Vampires that illicit cat calls from the the ladies? What is it about Vampires that inspire the highest form of "art" for the masses? My friends. I don't know. Let's explore.

Obviously, we do know this much: Vampires have big dicks. It's really the only way to explain the fact that they have such magnetism from both the fairer and the stronger sex. There's an appeal about big dicks. Probably something to do with pheramones and stuff like that.

Now that the obvious is out of the way, let's explore the mystery. I think it's safe to say vampires are not vegetarians. As we well know, vegetarianism if for pussies. Vampire's are definitely not pussies, even the effete ones. Christopher Lee will curb stomp you for even insinuating that he doesn't eat meat. Vampires are the biker gang of the horror realms of mythology. Bitchin' is a word that comes to mind.

Of course, we have to acknowledge lame Vampires. I'm looking at the Twilight crew and company here, aka worst movie and book ever made my sane people. Let's not let them put a blight on the badassiviness of Vampires.

I think we can all agree though that Vampires bring the romance in a way that guys can dig. For example, placing their mouths on the necks of beautiful woman... and sucking away. I love sucking on a woman's neck, and so do Vampires. It's something we bond over.

In conclusion, I think we all know why Vampires rock the Casbah now. It's because they remind you of tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious beings. Which is what I am of course.

Yes, Clay, I just compared myself to a Vampire. Respect. End of posting.

22 July 2009