Love: It's a Problem by Vomit God
   The other day, I was at the zoo, sitting, and watching chickadees happily scratching about and foraging for food, when a small fucking demon imp of a child ran up, and unleashed a sonic scream at the poor birds that startled them, and left me momentarily senseless. The mother of the imp smiled at my displeasure as I walked away to more peaceful surroundings.

    As I walked away, I began to think. Is there no place for solitude anymore? That demon child who unleashed the banshee scream on me was the result of the chemical imbalance commonly reffered to as "love." Sure, love is fun for the first few weeks, but when that purple larva emerges from between the mother's legs, funtime is over. Peaceful sleeping is shattered by nightly sonic assualts upon the parents. Vomit, and feces emerge daily by the bucketfull. I don't understand how people can love a smelly, helpless worm.

    Perhaps television is to blame. The perfect father, the perfect mother, the perfect children. Bah.

    Love is a problem that won't go away. Because of love, there is AIDS, syphillis, and canker sores. Because of love, the worlds population is steadily increasing, resulting in global warming and starvation. Because of love, teenage girls are forced to quit school in order to take care of their children. Because of love, a fool blows his paycheck on courting an incessantly unsatisfied girl, who wants 24-carat engagement rings, a partner who must wear exactly the right clothes, (God forbid the embarassment!), and other presents, like flowers and other trivial shit.

    I've often noticed that alcohol often plays a role in determining partners. It's a distorted game of "Twister." Spin around until your hand lands on the right color. Of course, this right color must have large genatalia. (At least the TV said so, mommy.)

    When will it end? Ever? It doesn't look like it. Well, at least soylent green tastes good on toast. See you at the Thunderdome!