Got to be. I mean, it sounds like a lie. There are just enough details to be made up, but not enough to make it sound convincing. I mean, it’s got to be, right?
http://www.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,91059-13099761,00.html
Oh God I hope this is for real.
But you’re starting to look silly here. Look, the Rapture already happened. It happened at midnight, December 31, 1999, just the way it was supposed to. All the true Christians went up to heaven. There were three of them. By all accounts they are having a very nice time. The rest of you, well. . . turns out your belief wasn’t quite sincere enough, and a lot of you are just plain assholes.
Now settle down. I know you’re mad now, but think about it, what did you expect from God, anyway? We’re talking about the guy who invented the anus, here, not to mention dooming you and everyone you’ve ever loved to die. The dude’s kind of an ass, you know?
Anyway, now that you guys don’t have to worry about all this Rapture stuff, you can chill out for a while, and, you know, have some fun for a change.
Just a suggestion.
Yeah, that’s right, bitches. I am back, and you can’t even begin to handle it. Sure, I took some time off. The news of the world was getting me down, but I am back and I am an indestructible force of mirth and light-hearted tomfoolery.
And let me tell you, when I say that I am bigger than Jesus I am not exaggerating in the least. By all accounts the Christian Savior was a skinny little guy, and these days I am balooning like a baloon full of fat being eaten by a fat man. I have embarked on a new wholesome, low-carb diet of butter, ground beef, and butter and beef flavored milkshakes, which I expect to get me back to my fighting weight any day now. In the meantime, however, I have discovered several benefits to my newfound girth, which the so called “media” and the Armenian-controlled “health establishment” never bothered to tell me about, so I thought, in the interests of freedom and sharing of information, I should share with you the true realities of being a portly gentleman like myself. Be warned, the truth may blow your tiny little minds.
Reasons being fat is awesome:
1.) While playing video games, my controller rests comfortably on my paunch, saving me the trouble of holding it up with my increasingly puny arms. (Incidentally, the withering of my arms combined with the swelling of my gut and the already prodigous size of my head makes me look more like the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex every day, and who could have a problem with that?)
2.) I am far more bouyant than I used to be. This is especially useful in the part of the world I live in, where hurricanes and floods are commonplace occurances. I am virtually flood-proof, and am almost guaranteed to survive being dragged out to sea by the undertow.
3.) Many of my favorite restaurants know just what I want, without me even asking. I can walk into pretty much any Wendy’s in America, and they get right to work on the supersized triple burger with extra butter and fries (and a side salad, you know, for health), which saves me the trouble of talking. In fact, Buger King has a new meal where if you show up with a funnel, they’ll cram food down it as long as you can keep putting singles on the counter. They call it the “new dollar meal” or something, and it kicks ass.
In all seriousness, though, I once read somewhere that when medical students dissect fat cadavers, they smell terrible on the inside, so for God’s sake if you’re turning into a disgusting lard-sack like me, go for a god damn bike ride or something.
So yeah, I’m back.