Don't Kiss Grandpa
I was going to write this post earlier, but I've been too busy puking in my mouth. The article "STDs Running Rampant in the Retirement Community" states that STD rates among seniors are skyrocketing, due largely to an increase in Viagra and no risk of pregnancy.
In the article, a gynecologist states that she treats more cases of herpes and HPV in the retirement community than she did in the city of Miami. Let's stop and consider this for a moment. Miami is a hotspot for the young, trendy and beautiful. The fact that it's a hotbed for rampant sexual activity (and therefore is a breeding ground for STDS) does not surprise me. The fact that this is due to OLD PEOPLE FUCKING does.
Everyone is afraid of growing older. Since I am still a young asshole, I am still at the stage where things like car payments or buying a house (or anything else that requires that I behave with the slightest modicum of responsibility), inspire the fear of God in me. Imagine having to kiss goodbye to your mind, your independence, of having to wear a product called "Oops, I Crapped my Pants". And, on top of all that, having to be afraid of some geriatric Casanova or some wrinkled whore spreading their filth.
Watch out, Uncle Junior. Your death may not be as sanguinary as I've hoped, but You may get yours after all.
In the article, a gynecologist states that she treats more cases of herpes and HPV in the retirement community than she did in the city of Miami. Let's stop and consider this for a moment. Miami is a hotspot for the young, trendy and beautiful. The fact that it's a hotbed for rampant sexual activity (and therefore is a breeding ground for STDS) does not surprise me. The fact that this is due to OLD PEOPLE FUCKING does.
Everyone is afraid of growing older. Since I am still a young asshole, I am still at the stage where things like car payments or buying a house (or anything else that requires that I behave with the slightest modicum of responsibility), inspire the fear of God in me. Imagine having to kiss goodbye to your mind, your independence, of having to wear a product called "Oops, I Crapped my Pants". And, on top of all that, having to be afraid of some geriatric Casanova or some wrinkled whore spreading their filth.
Watch out, Uncle Junior. Your death may not be as sanguinary as I've hoped, but You may get yours after all.
2 Comments:
Why you gotta hate on Eazy-E? As Dr. Dre said in "The Difference between Me and You" (with Eminem), "..Eazy I'm still wit you, fuck the beef, [brotha] I miss you, and that's just bein real wit you..." We should take a page from Dre's book and let bygones be bygones...
By Johnny Shades, at 1:53 PM
Foul, foul, foul, FOUL FOUL FOUL. I'm trying so hard to erase the mental images, so very hard.
By The Blonde Menace, at 12:05 PM
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