Lard Loading

Yes, if you guessed new fad diet, you're correct. And this, unlike the others, wasn't one that was dreamed up by Shel Silverstein in a THC induced nap. Hell no. In fact, this one comes to us straight from several prominent, weight-conscious and professional salesman doctors. They know what they're talking about, believe me. I have this guide and several other important articles of information in front of me right now proving all theories and hypotheses. Without further ado, let's jump right into the meat and bones of this thing. The main program is simple but effective. Day one starts with all the olive oil you can possibly consume (OO loading). Take a tablespoon of lemon juice at the end of your day and resist vomiting. Curl your legs up tight to your chin to get to sleep. Lay on your right side and don't let anybody know that you're not feeling well. Wake up the next morning and brush your teeth, because this is a key day on your weight loss ladder. Day two involves what I like to call the big seven, or "the seven self-sodomizing secrets to synthetic soft-tissue sanitation." Long-winded yes, but well worth every syllable. You'll need guts for this one, I'm not going to lie to you. Guts and a fairly high pressure nozzle of some sort (I haven't figured out the best solution, but I'm sure somebody out there knows). Crisco and the high-pressure nozzle simply put. I'm sure you understand. But look, the rationale is that there's high school kids putting vodka soaked tampons in their rectums. Watch the old fat tissue throughout your lower-half and neck get overloaded with micronic lard action and disappear. Resist the feeling that the olive oil from the previous day wants to slide out all over the place. Be strong and hold it in.

Finally, just when you think you've had enough, we're into overtime, the 4th quarter, the bottom of the ninth, etc. The necessary items are easy enough to procure: 65 gallons of used oil (animal or vegetable). Next, since we've already got the guts from step two, we now insert 8-12 thick-gauge hypodermics into primary blood vessels. Next, connect the needles to a garden hose that is connected to the oil storage tank. Turn the valve to the 'on' position. Feel the power course through your veins. Meanwhile, make a small incision in a primary artery far from the needles. Let your old, fatty blood run out into the floor drain. Wait until you've been flushed through (oil runs from artery), remove needles and cover open wounds. Sleep it off and let all the fat do the work that god intended for it to do. Tomorrow, pending your life force is still available, sit as still as possible, feeling clean blood regenerate and old fat cells vanish.

Repeat as necessary.

Reflections

Emperor Mao stands beside Ronald Reagan
Together a mirror image they suck in
Mao admires Reagan's tux
Reagan admires Mao's presence
This is possible in a mirror
Reflection

Ronnie's coat is on too tight
Mao's eyebrows have grown out too far
History's passed them by in 50 years
Reflection

I know my own face
Reflections
12 years gone and done
I look at the reflection
A view over the wide lake of promises
The reflection is tainted by raw sewage
Of the mind
Reflection nonetheless

Reagan eats a big hamburger and kisses Mao.
Mao indicates to Reagan that he would now like to be called Max.
Reagan now kisses max with a catsup tongue.
Max convinces Reagan to make it a communist deal.
Reagan is forced to watch himself in movies.
Max leaves him for the dead zombie he is.

Additonal memo from Chief Martigan

I take extreme pity for myself. I pull over one time into somebody's gravel driveway to pull a tarp off my car and put it into the trunk and some 6-8 year old kids start firing rockets (with report!) under my car and rushing towards my feet. This is what the universal powers tell me I deserve for a less than admirable effort to find a better place to temporarily park so close to the truck stop. The house butted up directly to a railroad line. The kids, now agitated with a belly full of jello powder, begin to attack me. I tell their dad what a bad dad he has been, and is, being. He tells me he has no control over this, that people develop their own personalities near the railroad tracks. I agree with him. I lose my keys now. A locally known man drives up and can help. There's plastic sheets everywhere in my car. I get my keys and leave, but feel like I've lost some understanding of the world.

Deceptive backwoods discourse (38 and counting)

A freedom anchor. A dungeon swap meet. A lifestock massacre. All things that were in Corey's new spell book. A backwoods appeal to the city folk for more park land, stronger public schools, and supermarkets within walking distance. In addition, an index located in the back mentioned a few public policies that have been obsolete since primitive societies have ceased to be.

An oily smoke mixed with the flavor of freshly cut, dew soaked grass streamed into his nostrils. Tammy the gimp switched back over crowded ground to a vantage point where she could see what Corey's next move actually was. There he stood, the ancient powers at his side. He took in the smell and raised his arms to the air, sensing that he had reached full power, possibly granted to him by the Sir Mix-a-Lot gang that hung out at the Milk King parking lot. They harassed Corey with backwoods raps and sent him riddles to find their hidden jewelry. Once Chad, aka Luscious Mike, flew a hang glider directly overhead and dropped propaganda leaflets all over Corey's area. Corey used the leaflets to dam up a small stream to prevent all but a few drops of water from trickling into the sunset.

Today the power was sent up from his rivals, in the form of diesel fumes and lawn clippings, and he fully intended to take advantage of this. He was giddy with the thought that they had made such a terrible mistake. Tonight would be a terrible night for a curse. Tammy peered out of her Rayband sunglasses and into the open chateau of a field where Corey had set up shop. Corey, in the meantime was frantically summoning all variations of deities including Saladin, Nunecaz Liducier, Therion Brax, Jeff, and Danny Devito. The time was nearing, and dependable forecasts were able to be estimated. Clouds formed in and around the place, enveloping all but two of the rabbits in the area that sprinted at the extents. The life force was struck from them (to zero) and the concussion of wave was moving to new areas. Tammy raised her left arm, placed it under the barrel, sighted Corey in, and blasted him with a 60 caliber Soviet gift. Corey burst into a blood storm and lay in his own shadow. Tammy went down and retrieved Corey for his taxidermy destiny. Tammy, of course, was a hunter, just recently awarded the tag to shoot forest goers in the deep north woods. The newly developed program assured all violents that their bloodlust be satisfied in lieu of public schools, more parks and short walks to the supermarket. She listened to Lady Gaga as she drove the carcass to Sons of Taxidermy. These are the times we live in.