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New York City Should Legalize Suicide Booths

This entry was posted on Sep 18 2010

Futurama had the right idea. If someone decides that they have no other choice but to end their life, who are we to stop them? Never have I believed in a concept such as this until the LIRR shut down yesterday. On September 16, 2010 (a day that will live in infamy for some pathetic, irrational New Yorkers), the LIRR had to temporarily cancel all trains between Jamaica and Penn Station. When this announcement was first made I welcomed the unanimous groaning of the thousand sweating people around me in Penn. Who wouldn’t be disappointed? It’s a real bummer, but shit happens. Most people had their “fuck the LIRR” facebook statuses up in full bloom, but I’m different than most, because I understand that the LIRR CAN’T PREVENT TORNADOES. Now, whether or not it was actually a tornado is still being investigated by the Sam Champion and Mr. G (who fight crime together on the side), but at the very least there were severe weather conditions that leveled trees and scattered them along the tracks preventing trains from being able to run. I’m here to propose that perhaps it wasn’t so much the LIRR’s fault in all this mayhem, but rather there is another group we could focus our anger and hatred upon: the common man/woman. Thus, begins the story of my three hour trek back home…

In 2012, the LIRR will hire Sam Champion to ward off future catastrophes.

IN PENN:

An hour passed as I meandered around Penn Station trying to pass the time having given up watching the LIRR cancel train after train to Huntington. No longer could I watch the morbidly obese man next to me suck upon his smokeless plastic nicotine stick while he stood in literally a puddle of his own sweat and grease. They actually had police blocking the entrance to the LIRR for fear of overpopulation and I watched them for twenty or so minutes while strangers tried to explain why they deserved to be let in. I watched the scene for so long because I was sure someone would force their way in and be maced until their eyes bled…but to no avail. I had no idea how long it would be until those trains started again…so, I made by way for the E train to Jamaica and prayed to God for the strength of tolerate everyone around me.

ON SUBWAY:

It was while waiting for the train to arrive I realized God didn’t exist underground. There was a furious man standing in front of me and anytime he heard someone within a twenty foot radius say the word “train” or “tree”, he would force his face to within inches of theirs and demand to know if they had heard anything. As vile a human being as he was, he appeared to know what he was doing, and considering I have the directional prowess of a moose, I decided he was the man to follow. During catastrophes like this, strangers bond by bitching incessantly about the problem at hand, and it was at that moment where I first considered the concept of killing myself. I mean, if people like these can exist…is this life really worth living? I really have to share the same oxygen as these mules? “I’ve been riding these trains for twenty years!”, declares Hideous Moron #1, searching the crowd for someone who’s impressed, and to my surprise finding several. “Oh yeah?”, says the furious man I’ve been following. “Well, I’ve been riding these trains for thirty years!”, not to be outdone, “and it’s always the same SHIT!” The group comes to the consensus that the LIRR is just out to get ‘em! Just another group of casualties of the education system. Wasted stem cells from all these could-have-been abortions. They called it, too! The people who run the LIRR were clearly counting how many Mercedes they each had as they set fire to bags of taxpayer money at that very moment! Nah, why would they be trying to resolve the issue? The only negative thing I’ll say about the way the LIRR handled this situation is that they didn’t make an announcement of how long it might take to fix everything, but maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they really didn’t know how long it would take? You can’t just mosey along the train tracks (which have how many volts of electricity in them?) and start kicking trees off them. We were kept informed of the situation, were honored our LIRR tickets on the subway, and given options to get home. What more do you people want?

"If there's a fallen tree then get a couple guys out there and pick it up!" - Hideous Moron #2

IN JAMAICA:

The train arrives at Jamaica Center and I’m pushed into another Dead Sea of fucking idiots. Inch by inch everyone pushes their way toward the ONE escalator and ONE stairway, but that doesn’t stop the scholars in the crowd from voicing their opinions out loud. “Come on! Walk faster!”, shouts a man who might have literally bathed in shit that morning. “How come this is taking so long?”, ponders the waste of life next to me who is inexplicably wearing a pretty nice suit. Could this man actually be successful? I forced the bile back down my throat and attempted to zone out. I regain consciousness to find myself behind four scene kids, all in their twenties, and who were surely contemplating ways to make me want to kill myself. Three of the four were women who couldn’t have picked a worse day to wear sandals. Suddenly, Scene Bitch #1 turns to Scene Douchebag with an excited look on her face. She’s come up with something brilliant and topical to say and can’t wait to share it. “Psh, this must have been how 9/11 was.”

Let that sink in. I needed a few moments to gather myself, too.

Just like any other reasonable person would, I allowed the guy a few seconds to slap his bitch across the face. Instead, he leans close to her, his face as serious as the stupid scar on his forehead will allow, and says, “This is exactly how 9/11 was.” Really? Was this moment happening? Were these people actually comparing the worst terrorist attack on our nation’s soil to a crowded subway terminal? Could the government actually allow people THIS FUCKING STUPID to continue to live? At that moment I began to bleed out every orifice my body had to offer. That’s about the time the delusions started…

I mean, at least as far as impatient fuck-ups are concerned...

Violent Delusion #1: It was at that record-breaking moment of ignorance that the weight of the crowd became too much for the foundation to handle and an enormous sinkhole appeared and began to swallow everyone up. I greeted the impending doom with hospitality and open arms. Yes, my life would be soon coming to an end, but at least the world would be rid of these four people and the rest of this inane horde. Scene Douchebag reaches for Scene Bitch’s hand as he shouts, “Now this is way worse than 9/11!” Right as their hands are about to come together a crocodile that’s been living under the Jamaica LIRR station tears her entire arm off. The blood from the severed limb pours into the guy’s mouth and drowns him before he hits the ground. The crocodile mounts the dumb whore and lays eggs in her rectum impressively in mid air and before impact with the ground. And as I fall to the ground I’ve never been more at peace.

ON TRAIN:

Fighting my way through the congregation of assholes, I manage to find a Huntington bound train and jump on. I’m standing by the door of the train next to ten other people. There’s no room to move and I decide to put on my iPod and ignore everyone. Two parts of my personality emerge as the train starts to move. The arrogant side begins to think about how everyone is praising me to themselves for my patience. “Wow, this kid is just taking this whole calamity in stride. He must have a huge cock.” They all have no idea I’m secretly boiling over in rage and plotting the death of each and everyone of my admirers. The other side though…the paranoid side has me thinking they’re all talking about me. Two guys appear to keep looking at me and laughing. Are they laughing at me? What’s so fucking funny? I turn up my music loud enough so that everyone has to kind of hear what I’m listening to. Yeah, you’ll listen to Alanis Morissette and like it! After a few minutes I notice that the three people (two guys and a chick) closest to me are having a conversation. One of them, some fucking jerk, takes out a tin of Altoids and offers one to each of his new friends, but not me. I don’t care if I’m not in your conversation, if I’ve made no attempt to be pleasant to any of you, offer me one of those mints! I’m right here! Now, the decision was whether or not I should fantasize about murdering Altoid jerk, or banging the chick…?

My Breakfast

I love Altoids...AND HE KNEW IT!

Depraved Sexual Fantasy #1: We get off the train in a sexual frenzy. She informs me that after a day like this, with the trains and such, she shouldn’t be alone tonight. She tells me her husband is out of town and just doesn’t “get” her anymore. I trace my finger along the lips on her face to the lips on her…well, you know. When we explode through the front door her kids are still watching television in the living room. I explain to them I’m their new Daddy and to go wander the streets for a few hours. They cheer in jubilation before leaving the house. Train Slut has ten orgasms before we even get to her bedroom. Once there, we perform a plethora of absurd sexual positions that experienced porn stars can only dream of pulling off. After the 48 hour sex decathlon is over her husband walks into the room only to see his wife with the most satisfied expression on her face she’s ever had. He begs me to teach him everything I know. I explain to him how communication is key and that even though they’ve been married for quite some time he still has to put forth the effort as far as intimacy and spontaneity. I bang his wife three more times in front of him and then disappear into the night.

CONCLUSION:

Some of you had to spend the night in Penn Station. I have no sympathy for you; get some friends. Some of you are looking for something to be angry with. Well, the LIRR did the best they could and if you need someone to blame, just look around. I handled the three hour commute like a champ. Shit happens and me getting pissy about it wasn’t going to fix anything. If you take the train into New York City regularly, then you know sometimes you’ll have to deal with the elements. The people around me made me want to kill myself yesterday, not the LIRR. Hmm, but why should I die for their insufferable idiocy? Maybe when there is a person around us and he/she is past their prime, maybe they’ve run their course, we could have a vote whether or not we could push said person into one of these suicide booths? I’ll write the letter to Bloomberg, that guy will pass anything.

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