And Baghdad gives me gas

I am in an extremely bad mood. And sometimes, when I’m in a bad mood, it goes straight to my pants. My ass itches and feels inflamed, and my genitals feel shrunken and achy. Also, I have this slight notion that I smell of poo. And I think it’s the Middle East’s fault. You know, it used to be fun and interesting to hear what was going on over there. Whether or not a specific day started with a Palestinian bus bombing or a rocket strike by Israel, you knew you’d have the resultant hijinks, the goofy excuses made by one said and the assertive (but still goofy) justifications of the other. Accusations would get hurled back and forth, someone would be taken prisoner and, in the good old days, Arafat would comment on how he had no control over the bombings, but they’d probably stop if the Israelis took some key steps, and I would laugh and laugh and laugh. I mean, not at the dying part, but all the foofarrah that came after, and at our earnest Jewish friends, and our Palestinian friends who claim they just want to be left alone. Funny stuff. Ok, I don’t actually have a Palestinian friend, or know a Palestinian, but they seem to be such funny people on tv (again, not during the dying part, then they’re actually a bit boring). But, to my point, the Middle East is no longer funny. The unfunny, dying and killing part is overwhelming the hilarious argumentation and liemaking. If the Israelis and Hezbollah don’t stop sending rockets up each others’ asses, I am going to keep feeling like there’s munitions going up mine, and also, like I have a shrunken penis, which I could probably work into some rocket-like analogy, but I won’t. For my bad feelings, I blame all governments. I hate you politics.

And religion. You’re on my list, too.

Oh, I’m also in a bad mood because no one loves me. Really, there’s no one to blame for that but myself. And that’s no fun.