If life is a voyage of discovery, then I am currently stranded on a stark, bleak expanse of terrain frighteningly similar to Gilligan’s Island, but without Ginger and Mary Ann. Every day I wage war against forces of evil that threaten to drag me to the dreaded Dungeon of Adulthood and make me endure the three-pronged Maturation Rituals of Responsibility, Reason and Religion. The natives are fearsome devils trained in the Noble Professions. So far they’ve managed to take away my enjoyment of all-night drinking binges, add thirty pounds of ugly fat around my midsection, vivisect most all my hair and torture me by slowly, agonizingly destroying the glands that supply me with testosterone.
Worse, they’re forcing me to watch non-stop tapes of Saved By The Bell complete with commercials, in their on-going attempts to strip me of anything resembling a sense of humor. I’m fighting the good fight, but I don’t know how much longer I can resist. Already I had to fight an overwhelming urge to flip the TV station to MSNBC’s Business and Financial News Headlines.
I fear the worst. Pray for me… or whatever it is that you do when you see some sap about to bite it. I haven't gotten the Religion Ritual yet...but I swear that if they try to make me watch The O'Reilly Report, I'll blow my head off.
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