BEES!

So as I was sniffing various substances I found under the sink, I came across a realization, that all the world's conflicts can be traced back to one source: bees. Not just those vicious, bloodthirsty creatures innocently called "bumble bees", I mean the misnomered "honey bee" as they are known in certain circles. The fact is if you look at all the major conflicts, I mean objectivly look at them, you can find traces of bees. You find the ancient egyptians built entire pyramids just to get away from the black and yellow killing machines. You find Ghengis Khan wasn't really all that bad to start out with, he just had a constant bee problem. look closely at the pictures you see of Hitler and Stalin, I mean REALLY close. What do you see? What's that? No, to the left. Too far, right there, THERE! BEES! SEE! That is what I'm talking about. What is the one thing that would survive a nuclear holocost? Roaches? No, that is a lie spread by the bee industry. The only thing that would survive an atomic blast would be bees. Ever wonder how they made the atomic bomb in 1945? Bees. All those scientists worked for so many years and in the end, they used bee farts in a jar to make it happen. And honey? That's noe bee spit like they tell you in school, another "big bee" lie, it's bee urine. They basically pee all day and all night and the end result is what we call honey. Even as I write this men in dark black and yellow helicopters are circling overhead my house, waiting to take me away. I come to this conclusion with a heavy heart as I have no solution lasdjewkdfo , wel[pqw[pw

ALL HAIL BEES. BEES ARE GOOD. GO BACK TO YOUR BEE FILLED LIVES. NOTHING MORE TO READ.

It's a what?

So, about a year or so ago just to be a dick I re-wrote the ending to it's a wonderful life. My girlfriend's favorite movie. Here it is, hope you like it.

“George”. He heard the voice faintly say. More apologizing than actually trying to get someone’s attention. “George.” He heard more sternly this time, like a parent who really meant business . He suddenly realized Clarence was talking to him. George slowly turned his entire body around to face the voice he heard, then lifted his head to look in the eyes of his guardian angel. “guardian”, he thought to himself. Hmm. What exactly does he guard me from? “George” said Clarence again, “what are you doing up here?” George half smiled, “seems pretty obvious don’t it”. Clarence stepped forward, “what are you doing with that gun George?” he asked, already keenly aware of the answer. “ well, said George, if I was never born, then nobody gets their feelins hurt by my actions. My mother is just Ms. Bailey, my brother died in the pond, nobody knows me, I’m  just some nut in the bell tower”. Clarence glanced nervously over the side, “but George, all those people down there, what did they ever do to you? Why take their lives just because you have lost your own?” George looked down at his rifle, a simple piece, couldn’t even remember how he got it. “ if I have no life”, he muttered, “ then nobody else will either”. Suddenly he whipped around took aim at the police barricade to take another shot. He told himself he was aiming at Burt, but there was no way to tell. Too many police cars, too many bodies, too many spotlights trying to blind him to prevent more bloodshed. The police fired a few rounds at the tower above and below George,  not really trying to hit him as much as make him crouch back down. All in an effort to buy time for the group heading up the stairs. “George please” cried Clarence, “why are you doing this? You were supposed to be happy with the life you had, and beg me to give it back to you, not try to kill everyone in town!”  George sat back down with his back to the ledge. He sighed slowly. “Clarence, sometimes a man has to realize what he is. Some men are great, some men are bums. Some men are rich, some men are poor. Some of us are meant to do great things, and some of us…” his voice trailed off as he realized there was no turning back anymore. He had gone off the deep end. His life before was gone. Mary, the kids, his brother, his father, the business, the house, the car, old man potter, all of it was gone now. Laying in the street with those people in the red snow. None of it mattered anymore. He could hear the faintness of Clarence sobbing, as much to himself as to God it seemed.” It wasn’t supposed to be this way!” Clarence shouted at the heavens, “ he was supposed to repent! I’ve failed him! I’ve failed you lord! Please forgive me!” George heard the sounds of a door being battered in with great force, and looked up in time to see Burt charging toward him, gun drawn, face contorted with both confusion and anger, yet not slowing at the site of his past life friend. George raised the empty rifle, pointed it at the oncoming crowd, and……