2 barely employed, irrelevant, nobodies, spent time debating the existence of God today in one of their parents’ living rooms.
One guy said, “Yea he’s got to be real because like trees and sunshine and stuff.”
The other guy said, “No way, God doesn’t exist, it’s bullsh*t and it’s dumb.”
They both sat for a while and talked about it and then stopped talking about it.
That’s the whole story.
I know, I think it’s dumb too, and this shouldn’t have been written. But just like those 2 losers debating God, I also have something I need to do which is report on fake news and satire articles. Does Tampa News Force exist? According to the Florida business bureau yes it does.
Do I need to stop writing articles where I ask myself questions? Yes.
Should I delete this entire story and not publish it? Yes.
Ok, here I go, time to delete it.
Damn it, I couldn’t do it.
I’m a hoarder.
I just can’t throw out articles no matter how bad and worthless they are. It’s space on the website. It’s a page on a website. I like adding pages to the website. It’s like a digital scrap book. (More like crap book if you ask me. (I didn’t.))
It’s nice to fill the web with more pages. I’m contributing to the massive, never-ending pile of webpages that will inevitably be destroyed by AI in the future.
Internet robots will find all these and deem them “harmful” or something and decide that their existence is detrimental to the internet and they will be erased. But until then! Here it is.
Enjoy it while you can.
Remember it and tell your kids about it.
Actually f*ck your kids I don’t want them to know about this. They don’t deserve it. I’ve seen your kids and they suck let’s be honest. They’re no good. Downright dirty dogs, all of them. Sorry if no one’s have the nerve to say it to you before but it’s true. Your kids are trash.
My kids on the other hand. Well, quite frankly they are also trash. I was going to say they’re a group of little angels but let’s be real, they’re demons. They steal from me, they’re violent towards me, they curse, they cuss, they practice devil worship and cast spells on small animals. They’re menaces to the neighborhood and have cried wolf more than once just to watch me panic. Damn it, they make my blood boil.
I’m sorry, that’s neither here-nor-there. The point is, there is no point. So stop looking for one and stop focusing on that, or anything, for that matter.
Stop looking into anything and start going into everything. You know what I mean?
What an empty, faux-deep sentence that is. Just shallow pseudo-philosophy at it’s finest. Garbage in, garbage out. Classic weak sauce.
Alright my brain is overheating again from though juices flowing too quickly I need to go stick my head out my window and inhale some of natures’ pheromones. Yum, mother Gaia. Always fresh, always good. Just like Papa Johns pizza. Papa’s in the house! Remember that? Remember when papa was in the house? Then unfortunately papa never came back into the house because he said the N word on a conference call at work and was deemed unfit to “be in the house” anymore.
So they hired Shaq. Now Shaq is in the house and he’s playing 5 characters in one commercial, cross-dressing (one of his favorite things to do) and making fun of family minutia. Nothing wrong with that at all! Good for him for making lots of money for himself. That’s nice. Just incase Shaq ever reads this, I want you to know I’m not trashing you. I can’t pretend I have any idea what goes in your head or what is motivating you. Maybe a constant need for validation and wanting to be cool, I don’t know, that’s just a thought off the top of my head. I think you’re great, I think you deserve to be in all the secret societies and reap the benefits of being in whatever elite social groups you want to be in.
You seem like a… nice guy. I don’t know, maybe. Remember that video of you freestyling, “Hey Kobe, tell me how my ass taste.” That was pretty funny. I think it’s fun to freestyle too, I like it. So we have that in common.
I’ve written much too much about Shaq at this point, and if I already don’t have numerous organizations blacklisting me, I’m sure Shaq can and will help speed that process up.
Just a simple email saying something like, “Never work with John Jacobs.”
And the person will respond, “Who’s John Jacobs?”
And Shaq will go, “Exactly.” Then reiterate to never work with me. I pray that doesn’t happen.
Literally, before I go to bed I will ask God, “Please don’t let Shaq read my article then go out of his way to hinder my comedy ‘career.’”
Anyways, God bless, thank you for reading, all of you, you’re the true heroes. I couldn’t do this without you.
Actually, yes I could, I am doing this without any of you. If anything, it’s despite all of you. I’m doing this in spite of everyones wishes for me to do literally anything else and stop wasting my time doing this.
But again, I don’t consider this a waste at all. I find it therapeutic and enjoyable and if anything I will look back at it in 50 years (assuming anything on earth still exists) and laugh about whatever the hell was going on in my head when I wrote this. I forget after sentence I write almost immediately after I type it. Is that normal? What did I say about asking myself questions in articles? Who knows. Goodnight America. God bless the universe, not just America. People always say, “God bless America.” Screw that. God bless the galaxy. How about that?