by Joe Buonfiglio
That’s all. Just contemplate that for a little while.
What the— Stop that! I give you a moment to ponder “The Great Question” and you stick your hands down your pants? Just because you’re in front of your computer, doesn’t mean you have to pleasure yourself. Sweet Lord, child; try to look at the big picture for once!
Okay. Let’s try that again…
LIFE. Whether you believe in Intelligent Design or just don’t see any intelligence behind the design whatsoever; life offers up things for each of us that make the whole damn trip along the mortal coil just a little more palatable. For me, it comes down to this…
TOP TEN REASONS LIFE IS WORTH LIVING
#10 — HILARIOUS ROCK FORMATIONS. Seriously, is there anything better? I’m not a big fan of venturing away from pub-laden civilization with some fucking kayak death machine strapped to the roof of my car, but obscene rock formations out in some godforsaken state park almost make it worth it. There you are just driving along with the obscene progeny to whom you finally kept your promise to take camping before they start applying to colleges. Of course, the little bastards do their best to induce madness with their repetitive Chinese water-torture style sing-along dripping yet one more chorus of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” And then, BAM! Centuries of erosion leave you with nature’s version of a dick joke. And if it looks like a vagina, all the better. Nothing passes the time while hiking in the sweltering heat or freezing cold more than using a beautiful wonder exhibited as nature’s own rock sculpture to explain to your ten-year-old how to find the clitoris. Think of all the time he’ll save as a fumbling teenager with that little tidbit of knowledge tucked away in his back pocket.
Thank you, nature!
#9 — ALCOHOL. Whiskey. Beer. Wine. Hell, drugs, too. Whatever your escapist “take the edge off” sedative of choice is. As my wife says, when I’m NOT drinking is when I tend to be an asshole; not the other way around. That’s why I view inebriation as family therapy. It’s just good for everybody concerned.
See, life can be as if a toy wind-up monkey that you cranked one turn too many. He starts clapping those little cymbals so hard that his balls launch off and send three preschoolers to the emergency room. Such an unnecessary tragedy.
So, put back some cold ones today. Do it for the children.
#8 — FARTS. Sorry, but if you’re not laughing by the end of the campfire scene in Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles, a Victorian-era doctor needs to come in and put a mirror under your nose … ‘cause you’re dead. And if it goes as far as the sharting-in-the-diner scene in Johnny Knoxville’s Bad Grandpa, you’ll have to put me in an oxygen tent I’ll be laughing so hard.
Farts. Are. Funny…. But why?
My theory on the matter is that they tend to take us by surprise. For my money, an “announced” fart is never as humorous as one that sneaks up on us. “Hey-hey, I’m gonna let one rip” is not as funny as a sneaky little poot or squeaker that comes out of the blue.
Oh, and I’m sorry, but “silent but deadly” farts are just gross. Without an audible, you’re just wasting my time. Unless it’s a “potato chip fart.” Everyone likes potato chips.
And to my vegan friends, do us all a favor: lay off the fucking broccoli. I mean damn, girl!
#7, #6 & #5 — AIR CONDITIONING, REFRIGERATION & INDOOR PLUMBING, respectively. Each of these items deserves its own recognition. I’m just lumping them together to save a little time. But make no mistake; for me, life wouldn’t be worth living without these things. Losing these wonders of man’s ingenuity is why I’m going to voluntarily hurl myself into the zombie herd the moment the Z-Apocalypse starts. No A/C? I cannot stand the one-two punch of heat and humidity. (Fuck you, Florida!) The kitchen fridge is no more? I don’t care how European it is, warm beer tastes like beaver piss. (Don’t be so fucking sure that I don’t know what beaver piss tastes like, you condescending prat.) And I can go a while without bathing — you don’t want to know what I smell like as I write this — but no way am I shitting in the woods. There’s not enough cannabis in the world to get me to shift into that survival mode. I don’t care if it’s in the Port Authority Bus Terminal public restroom at four in the morning during a janitorial strike; I NEED a damn toilet, thank you very much.
#4 — ALL THINGS IRISH. I’m Italian-American; but I have a definite hard-on for (in the good way, not the disproportionately vindictive way) all things Irish. Jameson whiskey. Guinness stout ale. Celtic music. Four-leaf clovers. Corned beef and cabbage with potatoes and soda bread. Hell, I even married into an Irish Clan. And let me tell you, that does NOT go over well with the Italian grandparents from New Jersey.
I’m not really sure how such an affinity for a culture even starts. One minute you’re sipping green beer at pub during an innocent little St. Pat’s Day gathering; the next thing you know all your kids are “ginger” and “the pipes are callin.’” And dot’s dot!
Really? What the feck?
#3 — THE INTERNET. Come on. Unlimited pics-porn-puns? Information at your fingertips 24-7? (Be honest. When was the last time you even looked at a printed dictionary, let alone found your ass in a public library?) Being able to connect to family and friends via social media has brought us all a little— No, wait. It’s more like a big time-waster desensitizing communication in a way that depersonalizes human interaction. Uh, well, there’s cool shit like eBay. The ability to— Hold it. Sellers misrepresenting their products and expecting buyers to pay return shipping. Winning auctions with the opening bid and sellers just refusing to ship because things didn’t go their way. No, that’s bullshit, too. What about blogging? There’s a whole new world open to formerly un— No, just more assholes who think the world needs to hear what they have to say or the Earth will stop spinning on its axis…. …. … Yeah, I know I’m blogging at this very moment.
Well, YouTube offers plenty of well-respected— Oh, fuck it. Who am I kidding? It’s just the free porn.
#2 — SEX. Okay, as far as making life worth living, this is obviously low-hanging fruit … both literally and metaphorically. It’s undeniable; people enjoy messing about with the naughty bits. Even the most puritanical of us will risk a political career playing footsy in an airport bathroom or bring down an entire church with one not-so-well-thought-out plan to rendezvous with the parish secretary at the Happy Ending Motel off Highway 69. Other than the poor bastards who have been guilted into believing they’re going to burn for eternity in Satan’s pit barbecue if they don’t immediately enter a “Pray Away the Gay” summer camp, everyone pretty much enjoys sex … a lot. Even the devout missionary wound up having a position named after him, right?
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Joe, why is sex only your number two? What could possibly hold a greater delight for you as a creature of flesh and bone?”
Good question. Goooooooooooood question.
And now, the top, the best, the most wonderful thing that makes it a joy to wake up and force yourself out of bed every day…
#1 — CHOCOLATE PUDDING.
Hey, fuck you. I like pudding.
Well, that’s it. I guess I should have said stuff such as “the love of my family,” “getting back to nature” (phallic rocks don’t count) and, of course, “my writing.” But, the fact of the matter is that 75% of my family members are major pains in my ass (I’m not stupid. I’ll let you figure out who are the angels and who are the wankers.); I like the feel of concrete under my feet and I readily admit to being abnormally terrified of ticks, so Mother Nature can stick it, too; and coming up with “the funny” for my literary endeavors every week takes such large doses of Irish whiskey that my liver will probably end up in some tacky tourist-town’s Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum.
So, screw the insincere bullshit. When it comes to the best thing in life, I stand by my pudding.
Sometimes in my pudding.
© 2014 Joseph P. Buonfiglio All Rights Reserved.