February 26th, 2004


Death By Blow Job.

"Don't lick me. I'm carcinogenic."


"Aren't you worried about going to Egypt with all the terrorists?" a coworker asked me today.

"What's the point of worrying about something liked that? The odds of getting killed by a terrorist are so ridiculously low. It's like me saying you'd better stop eating pussy or you'll get cancer," I replied.


Michael Moore was right: Americans are so damn obsessed with being scared. Give something enough media coverage, and we'll immediately assume it's waiting to kill us around the corner - even if the reality of it happening to you is actually .0001%.

For instance, as terrified as we are of shark attacks, more people have been killed by vending machines in the past two decades. Yet sharks get their own movies, Discovery Channel specials, and heartwarming news coverage of surfer girls they'd amputated. About the only time I've seen anything warning us of the dangers of vending machines was when Homer got his arm stuck in one in a "Simpsons" episode, and a Doritos commercial.

I'm all about exercising caution; but I knew people in LA who were nervous about pumping gas last year during the DC sniper rampage. Granted, the shooter was very accurate from long range ... but he's not going to try to pick you off all the way from Virginia.

Al-Qaeda, SARS, Shoe Bombs, Mad Cow, Dirty Bombs, Bird Flu ... you can flee to a remote uncharted island in the South Pacific, and a vending machine'll still fall from the sky and kill your paranoid ass.

So please, for the love of all that is holy, go forth and orally sex each other without fear.

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