What a World We Live In Today

            by Noah Isaacs

 

I wouldn’t say I’m not worldly. You wouldn’t be wrong in calling me well traveled. I have seen many things from the gray skies of Benicia to the vast beauty that is Newark, New Jersey. To be honest I never left the airport, but what I saw from above will never leave me; crack heads, trees… crack heads in trees… you know the usual Newark biz. You might know Newark as the smelly, quasi stubbly armpit of America, but I know it as Big Air Travel Hub, or as I like to call it BATH, not because you want to take a bath after you walk through its gates, or the fact that less than 12% of Newark’s population takes baths… or showers, but because that’s what the acronym spells, and I love acronyms… like good crack and airports.

            Airports are funny places. Not funny like something tastes funny in my chili, let me fish out the finger, but funny like a fat woman chasing a little white poodle named Batch. I like airports because they’re dependable. If you’re feeling lonely and want to get felt up by Hannah, the 230 pound X-middle linebacker with scars on his hands, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, you can just keep some quarters in your pocket while you go through the metal detector. Also, there is always that Asian woman who checks your I.D. and then scribbles Sanskrit on your ticket, even when she knows only midgets read Sanskrit. I have two questions, what is she writing, and why is she always Asian? Don’t get me wrong I love Asians, I just wonder.

            Asians are an inspiring group of people; they’re both studious and hardworking. They also inspired a little code of mine when passing notes in class. I call it Secret Rines of the Perprexed (Rike that pray on words?). The trick to my code is simply replacing all Rs with Ls. Here’s a note convo with my friend the other day; don’t mind my spelling, I write in slang.

            “Ale you leady fol this test today?”

            “Not leally, I think I might have to cheat.”

            “You told me you hate cheating. You’le such a Hippo-Clit.”

            “Did you just call me a hippo clit?”

            “No you letard, stick with the _______ code.”

            If you’re reading this aloud it should sound something like this.  

“Are you ready for this test today?”

            “Not reary, I think I might have to cheat.”

            “You tord me you hate cheating. You’re such a hypocrite.”

            “Did you just car me a hippo crit.”

            “No you retard, stick with the _______ code.”

            My friend faired that test.

            I failed a test once. And by failed I mean _________, and by test I mean an

                                                                            (Past Tense Verb)

elderly wheelchair confined woman.

 

I was in the car with my baby cousin a couple weeks ago and her parents. They have their own code; they spell stuff out.

            “Do want to give her a T-R-E-A-T? Do you think she’ll like her new P-O-N-Y? Just wait till you hear the N-E-U-M-O-N-I-C device I taught her.”

What the hell is a P-O-N-Y?

Speaking of ponies (Navajo for the morbidly obese -Wikipedia), you ever get the feeling there is a very fat person following you? Don’t look now, but there is fat man in a Chiquita banana costume right behind you. I was going to write more, but the people at the Big and Tall store were giving me nasty looks. I’m not big or tall, but I just like the smell of fat people, or feople as I call them, they smell like fried goods and apricot jam. Feople matter too.

 

            Speaking of feople matter, a wise man once said, “don’t write about poop.” Asking me not to write about poop would be like asking Picasso to use kid pix. I read a study recently in the New England Journal of Medicine titled Everyone Poops, and I would like to read you an excerpt, “ Minna unchi,” which of course is Japanese for everyone poops. This brings about a very bold and provocative question; does everyone poop? And the answer quite simply is no. If I had to guess I would say that exactly 0 women in the world poop. This is part of the reason why poop jokes are not funny to women, and why they have to throw up after eating to maintain figure. See, to men, poop has a certain gene se qua; avant-garde way about it. It’s important to note that poop is not just funny, it is more three-dimensional than people like to give it credit for. Any guy that has eaten spicy food knows that poop can burn you, where it hurts you the most, or second most. There is not a man reading this or listening to this read who has not experienced fiery diarrhea or fierrhea as I have come to call it. I’m up to here (that’s about neck high if you can’t see) with poop getting a bad rap, it’s one of the many major issues in the world today.

There’s a lot of racism, sexism, and homophobia in this world. To tell you the truth I don’t think homophobia is that big of a deal. Just because you’re afraid of gays doesn’t mean you don’t like them, support them, or even are one; it just means they scare you. I am deathly afraid of tigers. Do I like them? Uh, yeah. Homophobia isn’t even America’s biggest phobia. More than half of America is Blackaphobic, I am. I mean the dark is a scary mother. I still sleep with the light on. Blackaphobia can be summed up by the old Nova Scotian adage: “Once you go black, you never go back. Cause he’ll jump you.” Just kidding.

Sexism in America is another big problem, and women are the source. First off, it is a well known fact that women control the media, how many times have you read about women raping men, abusing steroids in baseball, or leaving the toilet seat up? Never. Coincidence? I think not. And how come there is a position in the White House titled First Lady, pardon my French Polynesian, but that’s HO'OKAHI MAKAMAKA O KO ALOHA, which to be fare is actually Hawaiian for “Our love begins the union of our life together,” don’t ask. The fact that the first lady is not even elected further proves the already well-established notion that women control the world, and it is my belief that Eve sold her soul to “El Diablo” for the power women enjoy today. As a result the devil gets to consume their body bifortnightly, which I’m sure you have never heard, and are now going to steal. Take it. It’s ironic that women hold all the power in the world, but are still incapable of peeing standing up and enjoying sex. Or maybe that’s just me. Women also can’t drive, tell stories, or remember punch lines. And women call men sexist, what a world we live in today.