We are all of us adults here on this site, writers and readers, well-wishers and detractors. This naturally means that we are all well-acquainted with that sluggish beast known as Procrastination. Society views Procrastination as a blight, a rotten spot on anyone’s character. Procrastination is a heavy shame and people want it stamped out. But this is a new day, a new era. Like other old prejudices, the irrational hatred for slacking around still lurks around, but we can’t really be surprised by it. I mean, after all, old-fashioned race-ism still lingers around and that malarkey is so outdated, I mean really.
But I am here to explain how all the haters are hating a painful misconception! AS USUAL.
That’s right. Anyone can make procrastination WORK. You can still be productive while procrastinating, you just need to open your mind and get over the fact that you might not be succeeding in producing the finished product you might have NEEDED to finish. But I think maybe we should reconsider this current lifestyle of “deadlines” and “you have to complete this specific thing I paid you to complete.” It’s all so narrow-minded, and I can’t support that foolish mindset. This is not an article about what I do and do not support though. Oh wait, yes it is. Because:
I Support Making Procrastination Work for YOU
I recently attended the Mothman Festival in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. For those of you not keeping count, that is TWO Mothman-related activities this summer, alone (three actually, if you count that I watched the Mothman Prophecies with AlexT). This means that I am not just an expert anymore. I have graduated to being the foremost mothmandollogist in the field of Mothmanology.
The news of a pregnancy is a blessing to a young couple; their love is made real. It will soon be solid living screaming pooping flesh that will occasionally fall asleep sometime. What a blissful time of life, when two loving people come together, give up the last traces of their youth, and become a family of three. Gone are the hollow, unsatisfying nights full of peace and quiet. The freedom to come and go as one pleases are in the past, replaced by the comforting shackles of never being able to shirk certain kinds of responsibility ever again. Say goodbye to old friends, you won’t need them anymore. You won’t ever find time for them again anyway. With a new baby comes a new, better life, and certainty of a kind of “immortality” as your DNA is passed along to another generation. Announcements must be made, plans put into motion before the Big Day arrives and the Stork comes along to bestow upon you the new focal point of your daily existence.
Sure, the Sneer Campaign is the Sun and the Moon, but did you know that we are also all the stars in the sky? Of course you knew! It’s written in your heart. And now it is also written in this soon to be award-winning content which you are now reading in your eyes. Next time you are trapped outdoors just turn your eyes to the skies. If it’s not too cloudy out, we’ll help you find some legendary and practically unknown constellations up there. Find a nice grassy spot with few trees, so you can look right up, and follow our guide.
The sad life story of Nikola Tesla is one almost everyone knows. A brilliant genius mind too good for this world, his kind altruistic intentions were continually thwarted by jealous capitalists who were bloodthirsty cutthroat money making greedmonsters who would stop at nothing to create monopolies on inventions, THOMAS EDISON. I’M LOOKING AT YOU.
Born on July 10, 1856, in modern day Croatia, Nikola emigrated to the United States in 1884 and continued inventing and being plagued by setbacks. He gave us alternating current electricity and Tesla Coils, among other things (I’m not writing a book report here — do your own research), so he wasn’t a long string of failures or anything. But the end of his life seemed to be a struggle with unpaid bills, relative obscurity, and dying all alone.
I love sleep but I often feel like I do not get enough, and I don’t really have any experience with successfully falling asleep with any regularity unless I am exhausted. However, I have little tricks to help me get in the mood for sleep. Often, these tricks involve YouTube or Netflix.
Once upon a time, I could not sleep if the television or radio were on, because I’d want to pay attention to it, whatever it was. But along the way, I have discovered a few shows that I have seen so often, or have been watching when I was already exhausted often enough that I have made a mental link between the two, that I am lulled into snoozeland within an hour.
There are a few television shows with live actors that I can sleep to, sometimes against all odds, such as Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I can let that play on Netflix for days and be soothed, despite the fact that they never stop screaming or being unbelievably hostile. But I find that what really does the trick are animated shows. It isn’t that I am returned to an age where I could sleep easily, because these are all shows I have watched in adulthood, mostly. Nevertheless, they possess a quality, each one of them, that guides me to where I want to be. Maybe they can do the same for you? Plenty can be found in YouTube in full, but in some cases, you’re going to have to find them yourself. Good luck.
Being a girl is one of the best things ever to happen to me. My gender allows me to live in a pink world filled with unicorns, kittens, pillows, sweets, and all manner of nice things. I get to Girl Talk, rely on boys to lift heavy objects for me, and to remove insects from my sight. Also, for a few days every month, I get to be a hyper-emotional psycho with very little in the way of consequences – whether I want to be or not! Other girls understand and allow it (unless they are also in that time of the Most Terrible of Cycles), and boys understand just enough to try to ignore it. This bittersweet reward is known as the P.M.S.
This article isn’t going to be a guide for helping boys to better cope and appease the women in their lives during this bleak moment. Every girl houses a specific, unique, terrible tapestry of physical and psychological destruction, and it changes with every month. So it is nigh impossible to write a comprehensive list on how you could meet your lady friends’ needs. It just isn’t going to happen, fellas.
Times are hard these days. There is no doubting this statement – they really are as hard as you think. Many of you reading this unintentionally exhaustive article in idle moments between job hunting or unemployment checks may feel discouraged to the point of melodrama. There are no good jobs. There aren’t even that many LOUSY jobs, for that matter. Getting a bit desperate to rake in a little spending cash to feed your mouth, family, addictions, or bills, you may begin to consider the ultimate in desperate sources of income: Prostitution.
Street Whoring is an ancient profession, dating back to caveman days, when cavewomen would wear short, sheer smilodon pelts and entice the cavemenfolk into sexual congress in exchange for brontosaurus steaks or pretty rock bracelets. Not much has changed since those glorious days, except that there are more options for the average woman or man in these modern times, and possibly more STDs to be passed around, as viruses had not been invented back then.
There are a variety of kinds of whore these days, ranging from the lowly crackwhore to the lowly camwhore to the haughty housewife. One could say that any of you working a job you do not care to perform are prostituting yourselves in another sense. Don’t worry. Nobody judges you for it, because at the end of the day, perhaps we are ALL whores, at least metaphorically. And in some places, there are legal prostitutes who have willingly joined that workforce because they love what they do, and can make a lot of money doing it. That is as good as any other job, as far as I am concerned – maybe even better in some cases! But I am actually trying to dissuade you from being the commonly accepted form of whore, here. This paragraph was probably unnecessary, but I am not in the habit of deleting anything.
As we sat peacefully in our Sneer Studio on this sunny late October afternoon, a terrible thing happened. The ground began to shake and a writhing, wriggling column shot up through the floor, causing many thousands of dollars in damage, both to the HQ and to our delicate psyches. The peak of the living mass formed a mouth and bleached hair, and after carefully placing some coolguy sunglasses, raspily whispered, “immortalize me” with a voice of a thousand cicadas rattling at once. Science is more horrifying than any horror fiction, boys and girls, and it is a known fact that for each and every human being on this planet, there are 40 tons of insects. Except for the celebrity, Guy Fieri, who IS 40 tons of insects along with some incredibly unhealthy foods (which are themselves comprised mostly of insect parts).
We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers.
It makes sense to be afraid of a centipede because they have the ability to deliver a nasty little bite. Some of them do, anyway. So you should approach them with some amount of care. I actually don’t mind most centipedes. I don’t really want them to be on me, or anything, but compared to this one specific type of incredibly common centipede, the House Centipede, I am practically long time best buds with every other centipede on earth, including those ones that are so big that they can eat mice.
The house centipede is frequently found inside of, you guessed it, a house. They are actually good critters because they hunt spiders and crickets and roaches, but unfortunately their appearance is so terrifying that I would rather live with spiders — and spiders almost terrify me into paralysis, too. But it is nothing like when I see a house centipede!
They have horrifically long legs which are also psychic antennae. I know that their legs are some sort of unholy feelers because if one is walking on a wall and I see it from far across the room, the moment my eyesight lands upon it, it stops. It FEELS my vision. It probably then feeds on my terror, or hones in on my fear so that it can make its way to nest within me when I am sleeping. I am marked when this happens, just like any of you! Have you seen how fast they are?? It is unnatural! Nothing on this earth should ever be even half as scary as these house centipedes are! However, I get the feeling that this fear of mine is “”irrational”” because everyone always tells me to calm down whenever I fly into a panicked outrage as I talk about them. Also, everyone else I know is able to kill them in cold blood, or even trap and release them. I never can. If I can make myself move at all it is in the opposite direction, out of the room, forever.