Know What's Fucking Crazy?

Groundhog Day.

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I know Groundhog Day was a few weeks ago, but since Harold Ramis, the heralded writer/director of the movie (and one of my all-time favorite satirists), died yesterday at the age of 69, I think it’s worth finally talking about how fucking insane this holiday truly is.

I’ll let Bill Murray’s Phil sum it up better (and with less expletives) than I ever could:

"This is pitiful. A thousand people freezing their butts off waiting to worship a rat. What a hype. Groundhog Day used to mean something in this town. They used to pull the hog out, and they used to eat it. You’re hypocrites, all of you!"

RIP, Harold. Comedy just lost a big one.

Volcanoes.

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What the fuck???!!!

All over the world, there are cone-shaped, hollow mountains that open into a pool of molten fucking rock below the surface of the earth like some sort of giant, magma-filled zit. And when these giant, magma-filled zits are under enough pressure, they pop, spewing gasses, rock and lava and shit through the air, terrorizing everything and everyone in their vicinity.

Stop fucking with me. Seriously.

You’re fucking with me, right?

Figure Skating.

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Every four years, people from cold-weather countries all over the earth converge on one city, put on excessive ball gowns and ridiculously tight suits and dance and spin around in a stadium full of frozen water, wearing shoes with a fucking knife bolted to the bottom.

And the entire time this is happening, no one watching is enjoying the “art” being created. They’re just hoping the performers don’t tumble to the ice and embarrass their country.

I’m sorry, what? I passed out for a second. What’s happening?

Flags.

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Jesus wind-blowing Christ this shit is weird.

I mean, think about it: As a way to symbolize themselves, every country, state and sports team on earth has its own specifically colored and designed, polyester/nylon-based piece of oblong material attached on one edge to a piece of rope on a pole and pulled up to the top to sit there and blow in the wind. 

I MEAN, FOR REAL. WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT ALL ABOUT?

Spicy Food.

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Oh, what’s that, dog? Your eggs/burrito/pizza/wings aren’t flavorful enough? Here, let me POUR A MAGIC FUCKING BOTTLE OF SAUCE THAT WILL SET YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING MOUTH ON FIRE.

I mean, holy Christ. Foods that somehow have natural properties that create heat and burning sensations inside you? That shit is crazy as fuck.

Strippers.

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So let’s just get this straight.

Grown men pay money to walk into a dark, loud, neon-lit club for the privilege of buying overpriced drinks and watching girls with self esteem issues slowly remove their clothes on a stage and pretend to like dancing exotically on and around a metal pole while getting dollar bills thrown at them by men there for the sole purpose of being aroused without ejaculating?

And for an additional amount of money, the girl will leave the stage and perform her exotic dance right in the lap of the benefactor, who, let’s not forget, is lawfully forbidden from fornicating with said woman and is instead paying to be purposefully cock-teased?

HOLY FUCKING BALLS THAT’S FUCKING CRAZY.

Penises.

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Welp. Might as well get this one over with, too.

If women are born with vaginas, the analogy goes, men are born with penises (penisii?). Like their soft, pink, tube-based female counterparts, penises are also used for peeing out of and sexing into.

Made of skin-covered erectile tissue with a mushroom-like tip containing a tiny hole at the end that looks like a single eye, when the owner of a penis is aroused, it’s flushed with blood and made stiffened in order to insert into the vagina in order to do its evolutionary duty and create another fucking human being.

HOLY VEINY COCK, that shit is crazy.

Vaginas.

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I mean, yeah. Wow.

Let’s just “get into” it, shall we… (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

People are usually born one of two ways: As a man or a woman. If you’re born a woman, you’re born with something called “a vagina,” which is a pink, elastic, tubular tract sex organ which you use to have sex, pee from (in the nearby urethra), and shit children out 9 months after a man’s semen is deposited inside it. 

Yeah. Pretty fucking crazy, this one. 

Email.

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Every day of the year, around the clock, I send and receive electronic messages to and from other human beings from a computing portal on my desk and a mini computer in my back right pocket. 

I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about email in any great detail, but that shit is straight bonkers insane.

We send each other free electronic fucking letters, whenever the fuck we want, from wherever the fuck we want to send them. At all hours of the day and night.

Holy batshit FUCK, how does that physically happen?

Dessert.

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So wait a minute.

We eat a whole meal of normal food, made up of some sort of combination of meat, starch and vegetables, and then, when we’re unable to eat another bite, we open up our greedy fucking mouths again to chomp down on some sweetass pastry, pudding, cookie or candy tomfuckery to finish it off?

Holy shit that shit is crazy.

Artificial Satellites.

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Jesus, dude.

We build hundreds of these massive metal monstrosities designed to help us watch TV, learn about our planet and talk to each other, then we launch them into inner fucking space, where they crisscross and orbit around us at speeds reaching 17,000 mpfuckingh without crashing into each other.

Holy scientific fuck. 

Waves.

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Mannnnnnn alive.

What in the fuck, dudes? We have huge oceans full of water, and every place the water touches the land this water piles up in different-sized walls of water, then tips over on top of itself? What the fuck, God?

And for fun, crazy assholes actually take polyurethane fucking boards and stand on top of these walls of water as they come crashing down. JESUS! Is that some sort of twisted fucking joke?

Maple Syrup.

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OK. Just so we’re all on the same page here, somewhere along the line of recent human history, we figured out that if we drill holes into a specific type of tree and jam a hollow metal pipe into it, the tree will puke sweet, brown goo we then drizzle on top of pancakes and eat.

Fuck me sideways. Really?

Sports Fans.

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All year, across every country and corner of the world, totally sane people can be made totally insane by their devotion to a bunch of men paid millions of dollars to play games in or around these peoples’ geographic location (and sometimes nowhere near them (Cowboys fans)).

What the fuck is wrong with you people? Is it that life-or-death if your team does or doesn’t score more points than that other team? Is it completely necessary to dress up like asshats and scream your faces off in bars and on couches at people on a TV screen who can’t hear you and don’t give a fuck about you, and then call into sports radio shows and bitch and moan and sulk for a week after your team loses?

FUCK you people are nuts.

Video Games.

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Jesus pixelated Christ, you guys.

Human beings have created CDs full of user interfaces with entire digitized worlds and photo-realistic characters and plots and weapons, that other human beings then buy in a store for $50, take home, pop into an electronic machine and try to manipulate for hours using plastic controllers while sitting on their couch as their lives slowly tick away.

Someone. Please. Tell me what’s not motherfucking insane about that.