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(*) (*) * (*)~*~(*) HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #886
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~ 0 0 ~* *~ 0 hOGS ~ "The Quarex Commandments"
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~ 0 0 ~ ~ 0 eNTROPY ~ By: Quarex
* 0 0 * * 0 * 10-23-99
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I realize this text file, or at least the idea that spawned it, is
entirely a result of the Dudley Boyz coming to the WWF. Ideally, this will
be the last wrestling reference in this text file.
In any case, there are a few things that you all really need to keep
in mind if you want to stay on my good side. I honestly did not even know
about these commandments myself until just recently, but as things turned
out, violation of these commandments really, really, REALLY, piss me the
fuck off. And, while I can control my actual physical manifestation of
anger very well, it is still not a good thing to piss me off.
Or, as Jeff Jarrett might say, . . . oops, a wrestling reference.
Fuck.
COMMANDMENT NUMBER ONE:
THOU SHALT NOT FUCK WITH THE TEMPERATURE I SET IN MY FUCKING CAR.
Okay. Everyone who knows me knows I like it cold. They also know
that I am an entirely reasonable person, and when it is about 40 degrees
(FAHRENHEIT) outside with a wind chill of 20 (KELVIN) I am not going to turn
the air conditioner on, even if I want to. I respect that other people are
going to be uncomfortably cold.
BUT--IF IT IS FUCKING 75 DEGREES OUTSIDE, AND I HAVE THE AIR
CONDITIONER ON--AND YOU TRY TO TURN THE HEATER ON--WE HAVE A PROBLEM. Now,
this problem can be easily corrected by simply allowing me to reset the
value of the temperature to cold, and by furthermore never touching the
goddamn temperature knob again.
HOWEVER, IF YOU *DARE* TO IGNORE MY INSTRUCTIONS, and FUCK WITH THE
TEMPERATURE KNOB AGAIN, then YOU WILL KNOW MY WRATH.
This, of course, does not apply to girls, for two reasons. First,
Girls are always cold, so they get more leeway when they are cold. Guys
should be rugged, and if they are not, they are inferior. Secondly, when a
girl is fucking with the temperature knob, more likely than not, she is just
playfully flirting with you anyway, and thus it is all for the good of
mankind.
COMMANDMENT NUMBER TWO:
THOU SHALT NOT BE A PRICK WITH MY MILK.
Yes, I have a thing for milk. I adore my skim milk. It is a child
to me. Lactose intolerants, fuck the hell off. Milk is my ambrosia.
Vegans, eat my fucking shit. Milk will flow from the wounds I slice into
your feeble bodies with my massive claymore.
So in any case--if you want some of my milk, you ask me for my milk.
More likely than not, I will let you have a tiny bit--A TINY BIT--if you are
doing something completely useful with it, such as consuming a bowl of an
appropriate cereal (Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs, Cracklin' Oat Bran, Smart
Start. . . these are acceptable).
Now, if you are to, say, eat a cereal which I absolutely loathe, such
as, oh, I do not know, THE WORST CEREAL ON THE PLANET, FROSTED MINI-WHEATS,
AND FURTHERMORE, POUR OUT ALL THE FUCKING MILK AFTER EATING SOME OF IT,
INSTEAD OF DRINKING THE LIFE-BLOOD OF ALL HUMANITY AS YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO,
THEN THERE IS A PROBLEM. A BIG FUCKING PROBLEM.
SO SUCK MY FUCKING DICK--MY MILK IS MY TEMPLE.
COMMANDMENT NUMBER THREE:
THOU SHALT NOT BE ON MY BED IF THOU ART DATING.
Oh man, this has always gotten to me. It does not matter who you
are, and whether or not I have any personal bias towards or against your
relationship. If you are dating, you stay the FUCK off my bed. If there is
one place on this planet where you can feel you have sanctuary from all
things that hurt you, from all things that can upset you, it is your bed.
Only in your bed can your ideal world become a reality.
When two people, blissfully content with each other, and blissfully
unaware of the pain you feel, think it is a good idea to sit on your bed and
perhaps start kissing, then they are in violation of this commandment.
This may be one of the most important commandments ever. Nothing, and I
do mean nothing, felt quite as violating (especially since I essentially
never feel violated) as when I found out that, while at IThinkICon this
year, my best friend and his ex-girlfriend kissed on my bed.
Considering he was my roommate, and his bed was FIFTEEN FUCKING FEET
FROM MY BED, AND HE ALREADY HAD SOME IDEA HOW I FELT ABOUT THAT, you would
think he would have been more careful about the third commandment. But no.
Yes, he apologized a lot afterwards, which makes his sins forgivable. But
let there be no doubt, all those who commit this ultimate sin are under the
utmost pressure to beg forgiveness.
My bed, my temple. The one thing you never, ever want to see, if you
are in my situation, is the very thing which you seek--a relationship--
taking place on the one place in which you can most vividly imagine such a
beautiful eventuality taking place. This is a horrible perversion of the
beauty of dreams.
COMMANDMENT NUMBER FOUR:
AMERICAN BEAUTY IS THE BEST FUCKING MOVIE EVER.
IT IS. GO SEE IT.
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( *(c) hOGS oF eNTROPY pRESS* HOE #886 ~ WRITTEN BY: QUAREX ~ 10/23/99 )