What’s with All the Monkey Fucking?
by Joe Buonfiglio
You may have noticed that I not-so cleverly blew off my last two weeks of blog entries. Well, there is actually a good reason for this act of apathetically wanton procrastination. I’m not sure what is going on in your part of the world; but where I am, the Apocalypse has started.
That’s right, my friends. It’s the Apocalypse with a capital “A.” The Ultimate Omega. The End to top all Ends. The Big Kahuna of dire denouements. The “All your paper money ain’t worth shit now!” of societal epilogues on a biblical scale. And so far, I don’t see anybody just mysteriously disappearing while leaving their clothes on the stool with a hot cup of coffee and a half-eaten chocolate doughnut still on the counter a la the Rapture. It didn’t happen to any of my friends at any rate, and it sure as hell didn’t happen to me.
I knew I was gonna get burned in the end by this whole Agnostic thing.
So far, I’m making due. While I’m getting a little bored consuming nothing but cling peaches and cold canned lentil soup, stashing all those printed porn magazines instead of relying on the Internet over the years is certainly making this homemade bunker much more habitable now that electricity is a thing of the past. Watching all those End Times’ prepper shows on reality TV pre-“It’s all gone to shit!” has certainly paid off in the self-pleasuring department.
Nevertheless, even with all the forethought I put into preparing for this inevitable consequence of humankind’s foolhardy and self-destructive nature, it’s not all guns and roses, so to speak. The Apocalypse can be a bit of a drag; what with all the opportunistic cannibals, roaming gangs of the highly flatulent engaging in Druidic fart-lighting ceremonies before terrified virginal sacrifices, and, of course, all the incessant monkey-fucking.
Oh. Right. As if you wouldn’t be fucking monkeys if it was the end of the world. Relations with our simian friends never crossed your mind. That’s just me, I guess.
Fess up! You know you’d be fucking monkeys and eating pandas just like the rest of us, so don’t go all holier than thou on me. The world is coming to an end and, if you’re reading this, you haven’t been “taken up.” It looks as if God ain’t giving you a pass on it all and you’re fucked right along with the rest of us. So, you might as well try to have some fun with it, right? Get out there in the fiery abyss and do everything you’ve always wanted to try, but were impeded by all those cumbersome laws and mores civilization imposed upon you before its collapse.
So yes, go fuck a monkey or two. Nobody is going to look down his or her nose at you. They’re too busy either saving their own asses or engaging in acts of sex with garden gnomes or other such formerly inappropriate intimacies with inanimate objects. Go ahead, bang the tailpipe of that classic muscle car your snobbish neighbor rolled out and shoved in your face every weekend for the last six years.
Run naked through Disneyland donning nothing but the sneakers on your feet and an indelible Sharpie in your hand while you race about drawing penises on all the costumed characters’ faces. You know you’ve wanted to do that to that fucking Little Mermaid for years now. Smug aquatic bimbo!
Ride through the streets with a shotgun systematically taking out every cyclist you see wearing neon-Lycra shorts so tight they’ve developed permanent camel toe or binding ballsack impressions whether the rider is wearing them or not, yelling “Who has the right-of-way now, bitch!”
Drop your cellphone in the toilet … on purpose.
Let all your gamer friends see you reading a hardcover print-on-paper book in broad daylight.
Sing Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits while you masturbate on the dais of the local town council that approved the rezoning that placed a shopping mall in your backyard while the mayor is tied to his chair with toothpicks forcing his eyelids open.
Burn that shopping mall to the ground.
Burn ALL shopping malls to the ground.
Say “Yankees” without using “Damn” or any other expletive as an adjective first.
Eat an ice cream cone in the summer heat without taking extra napkins.
Admit to your Republican friends that you believe Global Climate Change is real.
Admit to your Democrat friends that government is as much a part of the problem as big business is.
Admit to your religious friends that religion does more good than harm. Admit to your Atheist friends that religion does more harm than good. Admit to your Agnostic friends that nobody has a fucking clue as to what’s right when it comes to religion. Admit to yourself that Cap’n Crunch is the God of breakfast cereals.
If you’ve never done it, have anal sex with your significant other. You know you’ve always wanted to try it.
If you’ve been having anal sex for years, stop it. That’s disgusting.
Eat carbohydrates … … … a LOT of them … … … in public.
Steal a city bus and take it on a joyride while humming the theme song to The Love Boat. (I’ve always wanted to do that.)
Smoke weed right in front of the police station … WITH a cop.
Realize Smokey was right: “Only You Can Prevent Wildfires” … and then light up that tree-huggin’ son of a bitch! Just set him on fire and throw his preachy ass into a canyon. If I want to make s’mores in the middle of the woods, I’m gonna make goddamn s’mores in the middle of the goddamn woods!
Drink Irish whiskey until you go tits up with alcohol poisoning right there in front of the kiddies and all the other helicopter parents in your child’s kindergarten class for “Parents Talk About Their Bullshit Jobs Day.” (However, don’t die choking on your own vomit in front of them; that’s not cool.)
Refuse to clean the toilets in your house until the “red ring of death” gets so bad it uses Toilet Duck as an apéritif right before it crawls up your ass to attend a bacterial lecture in your lower intestine on the mass slaughter of mold throughout history.
Take up smoking again.
Kill your best friend for his or her cigarettes.
Feel sad about that act of murder against someone you care about … and then take the cigs anyway.
Punch a clown.
Kill a mime.
And yes, fuck a monkey.
Therefore and in conclusion, it is time to say goodbye to polite society as we know it. This is curtain call on the final show. I hope you enjoyed it. Don’t forget to tip your waitress.
Ah, fuck your waitress. It’s the Apocalypse.
© 2015 Joseph P. Buonfiglio All Rights Reserved.