Modern Superstitions
The world hates America because were superstitious. We even
built Obsessive Compulsive Disorder around the idea that bad things
will happen if I dont count all these windows again. Ignoring
the fact that its bad luck to be superstitious, all the old
wive's tales are outdated. The only bad luck you get from breaking
a mirror was that you broke a damn mirror. Break a condom, though
and youre looking at 18 years of bad luck. Time has come for
some useable new-fangled adages:
Never let a Ford Focus cut you off.
Treat as you would an ambulance or gun-toting maniac. The minute
you see one, veer into the Fast & Friendly until all fear of
poor judgment has passed. Get a packet of CornNuts with the strangest
flavor available and eat half with a Mountain Dew fountain drink.
Every time you belch Silicone Carne, sing Hocus Pocus
to ward off road hazards. Use your turn signal for extra mojo.
Find a penny, pick it up. All the day youll have a ruptured
L4.
Wearing socks with sandals is unlucky.
But even more unfortunate is thinking that its any worse than
just wearing sandals. Even more doomder still are Crocs and Loafers.
The sweatpants principle applies; if youre wearing any combination
involving these types of footwear then youve given up on life.
Dorked if you do, dirty feet if you dont. Vans with socks
= rad.. Without socks = bitchin.
He who laughs at a Will Ferrell movie can find amusement in
leaf lettuce.
Dont kiss a prostitute on the mouth.
Any professional professional wont permit it so when you
find one who will, they probably cant supply the level of
service youve come to expect. (Or the other way round.)
If you trip and brush lips with her/him go lockjaw until you can
boil your face or sterilize with burning coal. Also bad luck to
show your money before services rendered or to ask a pimp for a
refund.
Seeing the wedding dress before the nuptials is unlucky if the
best man is wearing or removing it.
If you pass a man on the stairs, you should really see a doctor.
Get a free tattoo and face a lifetime of ridicule.
Hey, that sounds like a limited-time offer. Sometimes a bargain
is no bargain, and heres one of them. Your lazy-eye cousin
bought a used tat gun at the pawn shop and wants to use your bod
like a coloring book. Hes charging everyone else $20 because
hes saving up for an autoclave. But since youre tight,
hell do you a solid. If your arm doesnt contract gangrene,
the black panther you asked for will be Huey Newton.
Baseball pitchers should jump over the chalk or be called up
to testify to a grand jury over their performance enhancing tight
pants. Blood packing? I think not.
If a woman coughs during sex, she will see a man-shaped hole
in the opposite wall. And maybe an anvil-shaped one too.
To find your true love:
For women: throw a handful of beans against the outside of your
window at Autumn solstice. The next man you meet will be your soulmate.
You soon find that he already has eleven soulmates and some of them
are sisters.
For men: fool around with as many as you can finesse into the sack.
When you find one that makes you feel like youve been kicked
in the ovals when youre not with her, thats the one.
Or you can pick the one who, according to Maury, bore your genetic
obligation. Either way, she will convince you to join a religious
sect where the prophet takes all the women and youre left
churning butter.
If your right hand itches, good God is Sarah Jessica Parker
ugly.
Step on a crack, youll never work on another orgy film
in this town.
Greet every actor you meet with, Good luck, MacBeth.
This will ensure a fantastic day for you after you force them
to spin around, spit, slap each other and whatever else ridiculous
rituals have been added since Young Frankenstein closed suddenly
due to non-SAG performers discussing the Scottish play,
and not, as was previously thought, because it was just a really
bad idea for a musical (as though there were good ones.)
If you whistle while passing a graveyard, youre a necrophilliac.
Forward an email on Monday: Youre a jackass.
Forward an email on Tuesday: Knock it off, jackass. Delete delete
delete.
Forward an email on Wednesday: Ive had it with your persistent
jackassery.
Forward an email on Thursday: Feel the wrath of my spam filter.
Forward an email on Friday: That tears it; Im sending
you and your entire address book an infected attachment.
Forward an email on Saturday: Your inbox is going to be engorged
with medical grade bukkake.
Forward an email on Sunday: No, I didnt block you. Im
having problems with my server, Mom.
-Ewan Wadharmi (Say it out loud while staring down a
Pilagro.)
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