I remember once I found God. He was so happy. I found 
him in
the card catalog at the public library. Nobody looks 
there 
anymore. Thanks to duey decimal I found him. Feasting 
on his
manhood just to stay alive. He could have feasted off 
that 
monster for centuries. Serious, he was hung like this. 
You 
figure finding god might win you automatic entry into 
Hellven but no. I have to fool myself there, just like 
everybody else. Then I said, "AH, CAN I GET THREE 
WISHES?!" 
"I'm not that kind of god", he said. He did teach me 
sign 
language so I wouldn't have to fog up my mirror with 
these 
long winded self-evaluations every morning. "Look at 
you, 
concave man." You know what concave means? We have a 
young 
crowd. It means I have an innie instead of an outie. 
The 
best thing about being concave, besides having your 
balls 
look so huge and out of place, it's the midgets. They 
crawl 
inside and paint pictures on the wall. A little person 
died 
there once. That's what I mean when I mention the 
ghosts. 
I'm haunted, down there. Welcome to my world. It's a 
world 
where all the well endowed animals of this planet 
simultaneously die from a horrible case of womb envy. 
It's a
world where Natalie Portman stalks me, and she's still 
14, 
and it's ok, 'cause it's my world baby. It's a world 
where
when you multiply a negative number by a negative 
number,
you don't get a positive number, YOU GET A BIGGER 
NEGATIVE 
NUMBER! And I don't have to *beatboxes* to keep you 
interested. Mommies don't die, she never left me, and 
there's not dark sweat marks where my fucking heart 
should 
be. When I fly, it's first class bitch. All they serve 
is 
vegetarian meals on my flight. The guy on the side of 
me's 
pissed. "Excuse me. Please check the back, see if you 
got 
one with chicken in it maybe? Maybe someone could get 
me 
chicken." "I'm sorry sir, you gotta call forty-eight 
hours 
ahead of time to get your meat meal." He's none too 
pleased,
so he calls me on his cellphone, to tell me about his, 
superbowl show! I DON'T KNOW! Wanna flow? Go to go. Toe 
to 
toe. I don't rock polo. He gets bombarded by all these 
public service announcments that let him know, "YOU 
SUPPORTED TERRORISM BY PAYING TAXES and driving all 
over the
place, you could have just fucking walked down the 
street."
FACT! And I laughed, all the way to the sperm banks, 
soccer 
mom. Haha, it's not my world, it's his. The big white 
guy in
the sky. I'm stuck down here, lookin' into my foggy 
mirror,
peering into my concave, practicing my math on all you 
poor
aborted fetus's. Reminding myself how far away I am 
from 
God. I chopped off my dick, shoved it into my asshole, 
and 
smuggled it out of the country, FOR YOU!!!