Originally Posted November 25, 2010
Thanksgiving is once again upon us and we all have one thing we can unanimously be thankful for, and that’s Christopher Columbus’ slaying of the Native American people. Yes, I realize this is more of a Columbus Day topic rather than a Thanksgiving one, but I feel they can go hand in hand. When Columbus strolled across the ocean to discover America he knew exactly what his intentions were and there was nothing wrong with what transpired during that time. I know there are plenty of haters out there who refuse to celebrate Columbus Day… “Why should we celebrate the slaughter and genocide of the Native American people? Columbus was the Devil and I desperately need something to complain about today because I’m a liberal bitch.”
Umm, why not? That’s what America is all about, motherfuckers! Showing off our dominance over another culture by any means necessary. When it came to discovering America, well, those people were asking for it. And now, for your Thanksgiving pleasure, I will re-tell the story of it’s origins…
SOME OCEAN, SOMEWHERE BETWEEN 1492 – 1502 (details are irrelevant)
Christopher Columbus, drunk on power and Captain Morgan’s spiced rum was leading his crew towards The New World. His ships consisted of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Sofia Vergara (holy shit, HOT). Land was reportedly first spotted by deckhand Rodrigo de Triana, but that didn’t sit too well with Columbus, a man who loved credit almost as much as he loved rough sex. Triana was immediately shot executioner style and no one on that ship questioned it. The crew congratulated Columbus and marveled at his impressive eye sight.
Columbus’ crew arrived on the new land and was instantly blown away by the intoxicating scent of freedom. Columbus climbed atop a large boulder and screamed like mighty Thor, “I declare this land, the United States of America!” Everyone was in high spirits until the Native Americans showed up. The leader of the tribe, Chief Who-Gives-a-Shit, approached Columbus with some stupid feather hat thing. “Welcome, please accept this stupid feather hat as a peace offering”, said the Chief. “You may have our land since we are losers.” Columbus spit directly in the face of the Chief before slapping that weak-ass hat out of his hands and on to the ground. Columbus wrapped the Chief up in a full nelson before breaking his neck. Then he took a healthy bite out of the Chief’s neck and drank some of his blood. The rest of the tribe reverted back to the animals they’ve always been after seeing their leader thoroughly humiliated. They began to eat dirt and chant, but Columbus was having none of that shit. He took out his last hand grenade, kissed it provocatively, and hurled death upon the Natives. As body parts rained down on the vital crew a rumbling could be heard…
That’s when Columbus noticed the large ant hills that suddenly surrounded his men. Out of the dirt mounds crawled more Native Americans from their underground cesspool. They walked on all fours and their teeth were razor sharp. Two of the Native Americans snuck up behind Todd Columbus, Christopher’s brother, and attacked him. The Native animals thrust their talons through Todd’s chest and tore out his beating heart. With Todd’s last ounce of strength he looked at his brother and said, “You were an incredible brother and you deserve greatness. God Bless America.” Todd dropped to his knees and one of the Natives used it’s lizard tongue to pluck out Todd’s eyes and swallowed them whole. Columbus had to turn away when the other Native slithered into Todd’s body through his rectum and started walking around in the skin. Columbus, angrier than he’s ever been, turned decisively to the ugliest of the Native Americans and screamed, “What do you want from us?!” The hideous monster’s eyes were black and it muttered, “We want your souls. This is our land.” Tears streamed down Columbus’ cheeks as he watched the Native wearing Todd’s skin mating with four of it’s disgusting brethren. Columbus turned to face the creature and screamed, “Well, it’s just been revoked!” Ice Man, Columbus’ first mate tossed a sawed off shotgun to his Captain. “It’s hammer time!”, declared Ice Man. Shotgun blasts were heard throughout the land and unintentionally summoned every single Native American to the surface and out of their lairs. Columbus and his violent crew spent the next three days straight slaughtering the Native scourge.
When the war was over Columbus and his crew were exhausted and covered in blood that was the darkest and most immoral red you’ve ever seen. “Well, this shirt is ruined”, said Columbus. Ice Man limped up to Columbus’ side and coughed up some bile. “We should call this part of the country Washington D.C.”, suggested Ice Man. “What does the D.C. stand for?”, asked Columbus. Ice Man, with the most sadistic smile on his face, said, ” Dead cunts”. Columbus chuckled, but it was obviously a pity laugh since Columbus didn’t care much for that word, let alone Ice Man’s sometimes misogynistic and inappropriate humor. That’s when Columbus noticed the severe wound on Ice Man’s leg. Columbus looked up and said, “You’ve been bit…”. “Ain’t no thang but a chicken wing, Chris. I’ll be alright.” Columbus wiped his eyes once again. He hadn’t cried this much since the season finale of Friends. “We can not let it spread…”, whispered Columbus.
That night Christopher Columbus buried both his brother and best friend in the newly emancipated soil. Another success, but at what cost? At the very least, Columbus knew there was finally nothing left to worry about.
…but he didn’t notice the eggs that laid within the brush near the graves. He didn’t notice any of the eggs that were scattered throughout the new land…
1600: EXACT LOCATIONS UNKNOWN
In the year 1600, the eggs hatched. Hundreds of them. The Native Americans crawled out of there shells and back underground to plan their next attack. They would stay underground for the next twenty-one years. While underground, they studied human culture and adapted their movements and personalities. And waited…
1621: PLYMOUTH, MASSACHUSETTS
The inaugural Thanksgiving was currently taking place. The Pilgrims of Plymouth Rock were initially suspicious and paranoid of the Native Americans (as was the nature of Americans), but eventually said “fuck it” and had dinner with them. The Native Americans seemed to really understand the concept of sharing and humanity. The Pilgrims were pretty impressed. The only thing that seemed somewhat off was their movement. It seemed stiff and rehearsed. Not to mention now and then their knees would bend the opposite way… Other than that though, pretty decent people. Or so they thought…?
The Native Americans had been planning this attack for years. The corn, or “maiz” they brought to that meal was coated thickly with the liquid cancer that the Native Americans secreted out of their pores. However, the Native Americans didn’t take into account that Americans hate vegetables. We’re all about meat, baby! The Pilgrims wouldn’t even consider that shit. I mean, they were polite about it and all… “Oh…corn. You guys shouldn’t have…”, said Pilgrim #1. Something else the Native Americans didn’t expect was how much the Pilgrims loved killing their own turkey. There must have been thirty to forty turkeys roaming the field in which they ate and when the dinner bell finally rang everyone went into their bloodlust. Pilgrims started slitting turkey throats left and right. Their children were kicking and stomping turkeys to death by the bunch. One Pilgrim thought it’d be hilarious if he ate the turkey live (and it totally was!). The Native Americans being a “people” that loved nature and prayed to stupid animal spirits were enraged. It was as if they were Schindler during some kind of turkey holocaust.
The Native Americans were so infuriated by the disrespect the Americans had for their animal friends that they began to shed their skins to reveal their reptilian scales. The Americans didn’t seem to notice though, because everyone got such an intense sexual thrill from stomping turkeys to death (even the children) that they started having sex and smoking cigarettes (even the children). The Native Americans have never had to deal with the smell of cigarette smoke and love musk before and immediately began choking to death. Half of the Americans saw them choking and rushed over to pat them on their backs, but patted too hard and broke most of their spines while still blowing smoke directly into their faces. The other half of the Pilgrims were really turned on by the dying Native Americans and started having sex more aggressively. After the meal the Pilgrims burned all the Native American bodies in the bonfire, said what they were thankful for, got drunk, and fell asleep in the field (most of whom were still inside one another).
And the traditions we learned at that first Thanksgiving are still in place today. Traditions like xenophobia and bigotry are values that we’ll one day teach our children at their Thanksgivings. So, when you’re eating dinner with your family and friends tonight, be sure to acknowledge the brave individuals that made this day possible. Give thanks to Christopher Columbus and the Pilgrims for overcoming their obstacles and making this country and this day great. Oh, and if you don’t think what Columbus did was right, well…THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY AMERICA.
Propositioning my family, friends, and co-workers (not to mention the occasional vagrant) with hypothetical questions that will either stimulate interesting conversation or lead to an emergency room visit is one of my favorite things to do. I know, I know, I bring up the topic of hypothetical’s relentlessly in my essays, but it’s only because I adore them and hate you. Never tell me how many times to bring up a topic. I might make my next ten thousand articles about hypothetical questions simply to irritate you into suicide. And it would work too, because I’m very irritating. I addressed one of my three cherished questions in my recent Thanksgiving article, “Turkey Is Great, But We Can Eat More!”, where I asked which endangered animal you would eat if there were no consequences to your actions. Another one involves shot glasses filled with a homeless man’s diarrhea and a baby, but that explanation is for another time. Today, it’s a simple question. Would you rather be the best of the worst, or the worst of the best?
In my travels, I have discovered that most people choose the latter. They feel compelled to be apart of greatness, even if that means being the bottom of the greatness totem pole. I myself lean towards the former option. Sure, you’re the best of the worst, but at least you’re the best at it, right? Are you an idiot? Are you shitty at what you do? Definitely, but you’re the best shittiest guy doing it. All those other assholes sucking at the same thing you suck at? They’re still doing it worse. You’re the King of the Idiots. The Potentate of the Morons. The Czar of the Blockheads. The Kaiser of the Neanderthals. And let me tell you something, looking down at these slugs, makes you feel pretty damn good. Makes it real easy to forget that you’re part of the worst. They look up to you, man! These creatures are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole. But you’re shoving that square peg into a rhombus hole! Yeah alright, you’re still fucking it up. But you’re a lot closer than they are! Rhombuses are just squares born with a genetic abnormality, but a square and circle aren’t even the same race! If a square and circle went steady during the pre-Civil rights era they would fire hosed!
And on the otherside of this equation you have the option of being the worst of the best. Do you even understand how depressing that actually would be? You’re in with the best. You know you’re one of the best. But you’re also the worst one. Everyone in your group is laughing at you. They think you’re a loser. You can’t keep up with these guys! Can you imagine how frustrating it would be to know you’re one of the best, but be treated like you’re one of the worst by your own peers? That’s the kind of thing that leads to an eating disorder. I know, I’ve inflicted countless eating disorders on weaker people below me. Being the worst of the best isn’t worth it, because you’re still the worst. You’re better off swallowing your pride and just get awesome at being shitty.
The absolute best part about Thanksgiving, and I’m sure you’ll all agree with me on this, is being the one to take the life of the turkey you and your family will feast upon. Nothing is sweeter than watching the light fade from that godless beast’s eyes before breathing in its soul as it attempts to escape that lifeless vessel and climb its way toward animal Heaven. But that soul never gets there, does it? No, we capture it deep within our lungs and harness it’s energy for more evil. For as long as we can remember, the turkey has been the symbol of this great November holiday. Usually around this time of year I like to spend my energy talking about how great Columbus was and how slaughtering the Native American scourge was essential to establishing democracy, but this year I want to pay homage to our animal brethren. Each year these little guys gobble their way right into our hearts, and eventually our stomachs. And they’re delicious, like, crazy delicious. I pity those self-righteous vegetarians and vegans who are totally missing out on devouring the moist, tender flesh of these birds whose only crime was circumstance. Yes, circumstance. You know that new Red Bull commercial that shows the Pilgrim and Native American walking toward those farm animals and then the pig shares its energy drink with the others and they fly away (due to the wings), but there’s none left for the turkey, thus the turkey is the one eaten for Thanksgiving? That wasn’t clever writing; that’s based on fact. That’s how it happened. Turkeys are butchered every year for our gluttonous pleasure because of bad luck which, admittedly, is unfair. So maybe we should mix it up every now and then.
One of my favorite hypothetical questions to ask people is, ‘what endangered animal you would eat if given the opportunity?’ For the sake of argument, let’s say that whatever animal you choose would be prepared by a five-star chef and would be 100% guaranteed disease-free. There will be no chance of getting sick from eating it. Also, everyone in the world is totally alright with this happening, regardless of what beloved creature you choose. No matter how many are left. If you decide to consume the last Galapagos Penguin, no one will care. When you swallow that final morsel of Red Panda, the President of PETA will give you a high-five and ask you how it tasted. You can absolutely inhale an entire Snow Leopard without having to worry about being cast off as a social pariah. Paranoid about being excommunicated? Heavens no! Just finish up your Sri Lankan Elephant, it’s getting cold! And you better eat all of it. There are kids in Ethiopia chowing down on their dirt sandwiches, don’t ya know? Those kids aren’t privileged enough to be able to eat an endangered species. So, with all this information, what animal would you eat?
Without a care in the world, you say? Well, let me strap on my bib and fill my feedbag with Dugong! Which, by the way, is not just a Pokémon, but a real animal (so it turns out). I would suggest that every year we eat something different for Thanksgiving right off the Endangered Species list. I have graciously stepped forward to pick out the first three entrees. Oh snap! I just noticed something amazing! This list is organized by level of endangerment. It goes from “least concern” to “near threatened” to “vulnerable” to “endangered” to “critically endangered.” I personally always answered my own hypothetical question with either Bald Eagle (nothing more patriotic than that!) or dolphin. There was an episode of Futurama where they eat some dolphin (along with other endangered species) and it looked like the tits. But for my first new Thanksgiving article in three years, I’ll go against the grain and choose some new and exciting creatures to eat! And just for fun, let’s take all three choices from the “critically endangered” part of the list!
1) Yangtze Finless Porpoise
This guy just looks so meaty! I have a hunger erection already! It looks tender and soft and looks to be enough for the whole family! It doesn’t look too healthy though… Just the way we like it, right guys? American loves fatty, greasy foods and this guy looks like the fattest, greasiest thing in the ocean! But not for long. Mmmmm! Personally, I could see porpoise being good with some soy sauce. It should definitely be marinated overnight so the flavors can really flourish. It’s a heavy meal. Make sure you have plenty of starches for sides to compliment this down and dirty, Southern-style dish. Chicken fried porpoise? Yes, please!
2) South China Tiger
What a beautiful and majestic creature. The only way the South China Tiger could look any more incredible would be between two sesame seed buns. It seems to me that this tiger has the perfect amount of fat and muscle which, in my opinion, would make an excellent filet. You could cook this guy up barbecue style. Or maybe a good stir fry? The sky is the limit when you’re working with good ingredients. And who doesn’t love Chinese food? I think that’s a big selling point as well.
3) Leatherback Turtle
I was hesitant thinking about eating a turtle. But the more I contemplated it, the hungrier I became. I imagine a Leatherback Turtle being a lot like soft-shell crab. And how leathery could it really be? Beef jerky is tough and a lot of work, but we all eat it by the bag full. Fruit leathers are another comparable texture. But sure, some people are going to be turned off by the shell aspect. Well, that’s what turtle soup is for! I know, I know, it’s a bit cliché. But while sipping your soup, just consider that there are not many of these guys left and you’re really going to be one of the few people on the planet who get to savor this gift from God. Yum!
*In case this article made you hungry (and it definitely did) here’s the WWF’s link to their dinner menu*
The Canadian indie rock duo that is Tegan and Sara has been on the scene now since 1995 and they have never been more gay. If you are not already privy to this information, I’ll inform you now that Tegan and Sara are indeed identical twin sisters, both of whom are openly gay. But get this shit, both of them are actually pretty attractive. What are the odds that both identical twin sisters would be above average in the looks department? I’d say at best, a 32 percent chance that these identical twins are both makin’ it happen physically. I’m no mathematician, but I’m always right 102 percent of the time. One of my best friends is a math major studying to become a math teacher and/or an actuary and/or unemployed and it kills him, literally kills him, that I’m so much better at math than he is. The pain, jealousy, and inferiority that he feels every single moment of every single day is slowly manifesting itself as cancer in all of his most tender and vulnerable areas. I out math him constantly, and it’s pathetic. He’s pathetic. But my point is, math wise, I kinda fucking know what I’m talking about. Thus, my estimation of both identical twin sisters looking that bangin’ being only 32 percent, and it being wrong, that these girls have defied the odds and decided that they won’t just look exactly the same, but also be exactly the same level of hotness? It’s proven my math incorrect in this particular situation. Which is not cool. It’s the equivalent of a Down Syndrome kid telling Copernicus , “uh, the Sun is over there, dude.” It’s like Shakespeare writing a play in his study, but not getting a blowjob from a man at the same time. It’s un-American.
But hey, I’m not bitter about it. I don’t dwell on such trivial things such as my strengths being weaknesses. Tegan and Sara are both attractive, and now I’ve moved on. However, there is still one question plaguing the mind of every man, woman, and child on this planet. Both of these girls are hot lesbian sisters, huh? Well, do they bang each other? Fair query, no doubt. In fact, it’s such an obvious concern that if you try and tell me you have actually never wondered whether or not they bang each other, well you’re the real bigot. Where do you get off not wanting to know whether these lesbian sisters get down and dirty with incest? It’s fundamental knowledge. Listen, everyone loves lesbian porn (let me preface this with “when both chicks are hot”). So this is all fair game. Lesbians have sex with other lesbians. Tegan and Sara are both lesbians. Heterosexual sisters sometimes get down with each other. So, Tegan and Sara… What’s the deal, you guys scissor or what?
I’m going to ruin this topic for everyone right now. Tegan and Sara probably don’t bang each other. The fundamentally disturbing incestuous point being moot, there is a more relevant reason why they probably don’t bang each other. Because let’s face it, if Tegan and Sara banged each other, there would be no war. What would anyone have to fight about? Every time Palestine and Jewish Land had some squabble, they’d just play Tegan and Sara’s 2009 album “Sainthood” and all would be forgiven. Anytime an Al-Qaeda suicide bomber starts strapping C4 to his chest with plans to walk into a Washington D.C. elementary school, he could just set his iPod to play Tegan and Sara’s hit dingle “Closer”. Why, if Adolf Hitler ever crawled out of his grave because some dumb schlub in 1945 buried that dude in a pet cemetery and he reanimated and start sprinting toward the Rhineland, intent on eating the brains of every Rhinelandian, someone could just Fonzy the jukebox and guess what would play? Some Tegan and Sara? Yeah, you bet your fat ass some Tegan and Sara would start blarin’ out that jukebox! Zombie Hitler would spit those brains right back into the skull he’d just cracked open and start dancing right there in the bar! How could he NOT dance? Those lesbians can write some music, man! His feet would be mesmerized by those melodies! How do I know Tegan and Sara probably don’t bang each other? ‘Cause Zombie Hitler hasn’t started his Fourth Reich!
But alas, the sad truth is war exists. Thus, Tegan and Sara probably bang other chicks. I mean, maybe after a few drinks they at least watch the other bang… Maybe Tegan finds some frumpy little thing after a show, gets her drunk, and has her way with her while Sara watches? People, we can still dream. But if you’re waiting for the day where the new Tegan and Sara music video features the two of them rolling around on each other in white hot sin, think again. Tegan will think twice before she touches that girl. If she comes around she’s gonna feel the burn. The burn obviously in this case being Satan’s Hell-fire. Don’t wait for that video, for it shall never come. You guys are just going to have to get out of bed, go to your menial jobs, and take out your troubles and frustrations on your subordinates. Oh, and if you got that Eve 6 reference before, you’re cool.
Charlie Sheen’s “My Violent Torpedo of Truth” tour. We went to it. We paid a lot of money to see it, and it was beyond awful. Also, Kevin won’t bring his boyfriend around us. Is he afraid we’ll embarrass him? ‘Cause we will! We’ll ruin his whole FUCKING relationship! Frank sees a dude on the train that he went to high school with and the dude completely disregards train etiquette by sitting down across from him. What the hell are they gonna talk about for an hour? Keep walking, dude!
This is the last episode of Morning Sickness we recorded for that internet radio station before they abruptly cancelled us because they ran out of money to pay us. It was an incredible experience and helped us pay back all the money we spent to buy the radio equipment that we still use today. DeadAirFM would like to thank anyone who listened to this program, whether it was once or all twenty-four! Send us your address and we’ll come over and bang out your mom! It’s the least we can do.
Lea Michele’s boyfriend is dead, and no matter how many sad tribute songs the Glee cast sings next season, he’s going to stay dead. I mean, unless they re-cast his character with a very similar looking white male. In that case he would stop being dead, but only in the fictional world of Glee. But no matter how good that Cory Monteith clone looks, Lea Michele will always know in her heart that he’s still totally dead. Like, #deadandnevercomingback. With her life in shambles, because I’m assuming he was her everything (most girls think this way), she is going to need a new man to walk down the red carpet with. Lea Michele, I’m calling you out. It’s been almost a month; it’s time to move on. You and I need to start having sex on a regular basis and our emotions need to intertwine like some perverse, unholy strand of relationship DNA. I understand you were probably in “love” with this dude, but it’s time to grow up.
Let’s address the elephant in the room, because this is a huge goddamn elephant and it’s breaking all my furniture. Cory Monteith just died. My gut tells me Lea Michele is not going to be ready to start a new torrid love affair just let. I don’t know, it must be my misogynistic intuition. What the hell is she waiting for? Doesn’t she realize that she’s 26? In two years her baby making organs are going to dry up and that biological clock is going to be as dead as Cory Monteith. Now, I know what you’re going to say… Joe, you don’t even have an interest in having children. Yeah, that’s very true. But here’s the thing, I really like the idea that after about three months of us dating, Hollywood people are going to be constantly asking her when we are going to have kids. That’s going to drive her crazy, and I can imagine getting a real kick out of her frustration. People will just ask me questions like “how’s the sex?”, and I will respond with a shrug of the shoulders, which would be interpreted as “good enough.” I want to keep her striving for perfection, you know? These maneuvers will force Lea Michele out of her comfort zone and make her self-conscious enough to begin a romantic entanglement with me. But first I need to make her forget about her dead boyfriend. To be honest, after two paragraphs I kind of expected her to be over it by now, but my agent (my dog) just told me she’s still hung up on that guy. I bet she still wants to attend the funeral! Babe, there’s other dick in the sea.
I have a few ideas to make Lea Michele forget about Cory Monteith and fall head over heels in love with me. These are my top three.
A) My first idea is brilliant, so brilliant in fact that there really won’t be any reason to even consider the other two phenomenal ideas I’ve cooked up in my broiler of genius because this one is so tits. I make a list of Lea Michele’s hottest friends and family members (all female, don’t be crude you rascals) and begin very serious romantic relationships with them. I tell them my deepest, darkest secrets and open up to all of them like never before. I will share things no one knows. They will trust me like no man before. I will make passionate and intense love to each of them. Before doing this, I will participate in several sex seminars with world renowned experts in the carnal arts, so that these women experience the most violently amazing orgasms of their entire lives. They will never reach this level of ecstasy with another man. I will date these women for years. I will propose to them, they will accept, and we will be married. I will have children with these women. We will move to the suburbs, start a life together, and raise these children to the best of my abilities. All the houses will be in the same neighborhood so that I can sneak into each family’s life at a moment’s notice to keep up appearances. They will never know because of my cunning. They will be so deep in love with me that they wouldn’t know what to do without me. Then I’ll destroy them. Abandon the entire family, disown the children, break their fucking hearts. They will all run to Lea Michele to tell her how they blew it with the one perfect guy. Each sad tale of heartbreak will touch Lea Michele more and more. She will have a desperate, insatiable need to find me and make her move. She must have the perfect man all for herself.
B) FILE NOT FOUND.
C) FILE NOT FOUND.
Alright, so I didn’t really come up with three great ideas. After I came up with the first one, I fell asleep. I was on a substantial amount of painkillers, and I was mixing them with alcohol. Whatever, I’m in recovery. I received my four hour chip at the last meeting and everyone was really proud of me. Like, so proud. Anyway… This plan will be tough to pull off without some money. I’m kind of going to depend on Lea Michele to be the breadwinner in the relationship… I was going to need some help, because clearly the banks aren’t going to give me that many loans with my credit score. I needed some advice on the manner. My ex-girlfriend (whom I was with for almost three years) seemed to be the best person to go to since she would be able to provide a fresh perspective on how I should attain a new girlfriend. She refused to let me use her real name, so we settled on her nickname while we dated. This is the conversation we had…
Joe: Do you think Lea Michele and I would make a good couple?
Bearclaw: lol I have no idea… not that I think you’ll ever actually meet her.
Joe: Her boyfriend just died like the other day. That Glee guy. Do you think she’s over that yet, or do you think she’s still probably crying and shit?
Bearclaw: I’m gonna go with crying and shit.
Joe: How long do you think I should wait? Like, when is she going to be over it? How long did it take you to get over me, like forever right?
Bearclaw: You didn’t die… as for how long you should wait, shouldn’t you be running this by Alicia? Lol
(Alicia is my current girlfriend)
Joe: Alicia loves me; she wants me to be happy. And deep down, she knows I will be happy with Lea Michele. What do you think is the best way to win her over, naked pictures or chunks of my hair?
Bearclaw: Ummm I’m gonna say neither…and why Lea Michele of all people?
Joe: Well, she’s recently single and she’s crazy hot. Oh, and damaged (now at least).
Bearclaw: There are plenty of way hotter people out there. Not necessarily recently single and damaged though so maybe not. Or at least not meeting your criteria.
Joe: Alright, name three hotties. People I should be focusing my energy on.
Bearclaw: You shouldn’t be focusing your energy on anyone! You have a girlfriend already!
Joe: Oh my God, you’re so jealous of Lea Michele!
Joe: You’re getting so worked up about this, you either really have a hatred for Lea Michele for stealing my attention, or maybe you’re kind of attracted to her yourself…?
Bearclaw: Neither…I just support relationships lol. Also think she’s kinda weird looking sometimes, but more because her boyfriend just died and yours is still alive, so yeah not a good combo.
Joe: I can’t believe I never noticed this before, you’re so transparent… You’re in love with Lea Michele! Well, you can’t have her! She’s mine!
Bearclaw: -______- You’re crazy.
Joe: Crazy about Lea Michele.
Bearclaw: Whatever you say.
Joe: Anyway, so you do think her boyfriend JUST dying is gonna be a problem?
Joe: I see… And is it alright if I post this conversation into the Lea Michele article I’m writing?
Bearclaw: No, not at all.
Joe: I see… You uh, you know I’m going to have to use this conversation, right?
Bearclaw: You better not use this conversation.
Joe: Thanks in advance! You’re the best!
Bearclaw: I hate you.
(We’re still like, totally great friends!)
Lea Michele! We’re perfect for each other. I like monkeys, you like monkeys. I like goats, you like goats. It’s like God crafted the two most beautiful people of all-time from the same sexy mold, but then Cory Monteith stormed the walls of Heaven and separated us, stealing her away from me, forcing me to walk the Earth alone, quelling my vast sexual needs by banging every attractive woman that crosses my sight. That wasn’t fair to those women, Cory. They wanted to have me for themselves, but I was already spoken for. But finally, God stuck down that guy, and gave the world a chance to gaze upon greatness. Lea Michele, with me, for eternity. Lea, I’m ready to accept you into my life and fulfill prophecy. Unless you’re not interested, in which case… Fuck you! I can have anyone! I don’t need you! I hate you!