Thursday, March 24, 2005

Why I have a Living Will


Said the world as they took the feeding tube away from the living baked potato Terri Schiavvo. In retaliation, Terri pooped her pants.

"Feed me!" said Terri Schiavvo.


said the Supreme Court.

Well, if you haven't closed your browser windows because of my insensetive nakey-dance, I must explain myself a bit, but in order to do so, I must go back twenty years, back when you were probably bouncing around in your daddy's trousers....

Back then, in the stone age in which I spent most of my life, I had the good sense to write a living will. I wrote that if anything were to happen to me where I wasn't ever going to be able to make a conscious decision as to my own mortaility, the doctors have the OK to pull the plug out on me. While this is a sad thought, to be sure, I was willing to put it all on the line so my kids don't have to squabble about whether to keep daddy plugged in so he can live the rest of his life out in a hospital bed.

"But why would anyone want to live a life like that?" you may ask while scratching your ass and picking your nose simultaneously. Well, hard decisions are hard to make, and when it comes to Human Life, a little religion called Christianity seems to have the most voice in this world of computers and microwave dinners. Some very vocal Christians want to preserve every human life, regardless of their living conditions, while us no-good black-hearted "Pro-Choicers" seem to be intent on eating every baby ever in existence. But I'd just like to make one point: Poor Terri was barely a human at all. If she what she had been after the accident, she probably wouldn't want to be alive in the form of a vegetable who is fed through a tube and wreaks havoc on the hospital's electric bill. I know I wouldn't.

And this brings me back to my living will. While my kids promised to respect the living will, they have failed miserably. One of the stipulations was that if I got too old, they would get the 12-guage in the attic and shoot daddy between the eyes. Seeing as I'm still slowly falling apart like a 4th grade orchestra's rendition of Flight of the Bumblebee, I consider my kids to have failed me. I hope that you weren't too offended by this post, but I promise that my next post will be about bumblebees and sunflowers. Have a wonderful week, everyone!

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Explanations, Apologies and Eulogies

Death is something that the elderly have to face every day of their lives. Count your blessings, kids.

I recently was let out of the hospital, thus my extended absence and neglect of this blog. As it turns out, I am ill. After years of casual drinking and the occasional cigar, my body finally decided to go to the crapper. Good riddance.

I finally decided to put a picture of myself up here. I didn't want to offend the youngsters out there with a wrinkly old man, so I drew myself in a speedy little wheelchair. Don't I look like I'm having fun? Just wait a few years, then you'll get to have as much fun as me.

I also decided to change the title of the blog. "Grandpa's Blog" was a title that my grandson stuck on there. I didn't exactly like it, it didn't reflect the cheerful nature of this forum, so I changed it accordingly.

Oh, I'm sure you'd like to know what's new with everyone's favorite senior citizen. I didn't have a lot to do at the hospital last week. My wife is dead and my family lives far away, so grandpa had to sit around by himself. I talked to the nurses when they came to take care of me. I read the newspaper a lot. Great news, America, we're going to drill for oil in Alaska!

As if it wasn't enough that we're going overseas to kill people we've never met to take their oil, we decided to go to one of the few pure places in this country to rip apart mother earth in search of black liquid so our cars can fart around and polute the air. It shouldn't be too long before all of this black liquid is gone, and what will we be left with? That's right, kids, a torn up earth and our Nintendos. Enjoy it while it lasts, because I'll be dead soon enough, and you'll be stuck with a disaster-course-vessell with a madman at the healm. Have a great week!

Saturday, March 05, 2005

A little bit more about myself

Hello everyone,

Looking back on my first actual post, it is evident that I didn't include too much about myself. I hope to rectify this in the next few posts.

My favorite artist? Well, that's easy. That would be Russell Jones, commonly referred to as Ol' Dirty Bastard, because as he put it, "My style ain't got no father." Why would an old man such as myself enjoy someone like Ol' Dirty Bastard? you may ask while scratching your head like a gorilla. Well, come close my son, let met tell you: Artists are all batshit crazy. The greatness of the artist is affected exponentially by their level of insanity. Take Van Gogh, for instance. He may have been a fantastic, kind-hearted human being, but he cut off his goddamned ear. He produced fantastic works of art, but ask any typical American about Van Gogh, and if they know the name they'll tell you about his ear.
Van Gogh wasn' t appreciated during his lifetime, and died a lonely, poverty stricken man. Ol' Dirty Bastard died a multi-multi millionaire, but he has one thing in common with Van Gogh; during his lifetime his art was not as appreciated as his social status, that of a disturbed drug addict. God bless entertainment!

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Showing Up with Bells On

Greetings World,
My grandson Eric started a blog for me, wanting to hear from me more often because I don't check my E-Mail often enough with the computer that they bought me. I'm still kind of hazy as to what a blog actually is, but he showed me how to put things online using this service and it seems easy enough.

In case you're not familiar with me, my name is Claude Peace Jr. There is no Claude Peace III because my wife assured me that Claude was a very ugly name and was not worth passing down. I no longer have a wife because she's very dead now. I rarely see anybody because I live far enough away from my family and I'm just pessimistic and grumpy enough for them to want to narrowly avoid seeing me whenever the chance arrises.

I am much too old to be using the Internet, but I feel obligated since my kids bought me this flashy new computer. I was very disappointed it didn't get cable.

I'm a rare breed of American, meaning that I give a shit about the world that we live in. Well, that's not entirely true anymore, about 20 years ago I figured out that the world was completely doomed. I've told a few people that and they always look at me like I'm completely crazy. Well, when you're stuck on the television 8 hours a day anything seems a little bit like a fairy tale.

What is true that in the next few decades we will be running out of fossil fuel. I'll be dead by then, but chances are that you won't, and therefore it is your problem. Enjoy that.

For the last 150 years or so, we have been digging thousands of holes in the ground to get precious black goop so we can pour it into metal boxes that scoot around and fart poison. Our habitat has been completely polluted by these emissions, and now we're running low on goop, so we're going overseas and dirtying our hands with foreign affairs so we can drive converted military Utility Vehicle monstrosities to pick our kids up from baseball practice.

Well, enough whining, chances are you stopped reading this by now anyways because I don't have a picture of boobs on my page or anything. When I figure out how to put boobs on my page, I'll do so, but until then it's black font and a grumpy old man.

But soon I'll be dead, and I just felt like bothering you until then.

Your new buddy,
Claude Peace II