Alpha Flight makes my pants tight

You see these mofos right there? They are Team Alpha Flight. The original A-Team. You CANNOT fuck with these guys. Their shit is so sick that people’s pants instantly drop on sight. They are so cool that whenever John Woo sees them on t.v. he gets inspired to write homoerotic fan fiction about them. This one dude tried making them look stupid at a party and before he knew it he found himself face-down in a grimy alley with his butt stuffed full of Mexican jumping beans. In order to comprehend just how sweet these homies are you’d have to get in a knife fight with a coked up gorilla. Rather than suffer a narcotic fueled simian stabbing I’m gonna lay down a story on your candy asses.

Wolverine used to be a scared little woodsman who roamed Canadian truck stops looking for discarded footwear catalogs. He was so wacked out he thought it was cool to regularly cover his entire body in pickle juice. One day he tried hitting up on a chick that he was all hard up for. Sure enough, he got shot down harder than a Somalian spy plane, so he turned to drowning his sorrows in Nyquil and huffing computer cleaner. One day he ran out of Nyquil so he walked to the store and came across Team Alpha Flight chilling in the parking lot. He couldn’t pry his eyes off them cause they were so cool. When he gets excited he just loses it and starts to nuzzle up to people and make creepy goat noises. Guardian was in a bad mood that day and was gonna make Wolverine pay for creeping the shit out of him. But Puck, the illest badass in all of Team Alpha Flight, gave him a look that stopped him right in his tracks. Guardian knew that he must let Puck handle this, so he stepped aside. Puck then flew right at Wolverine into a ball and hit him so hard that it literally knocked some sense into him.

It was in that moment that Wolverine got in touch with his cool side. You see, Puck has the innate ability to sense when people are cool or not. Despite Wolverine acting like a complete dufus Puck saw that deep down Wolverine is reaching out for acceptance. He only wants people to accept the dope ass crazy fucka inside him and understand that he just wants to cut peoples shit all day. After receiving that moment of clarity Wolverine went on a rampage and started cutting up everything. He cut phone lines, cars, cheese, that shit out, budgets, you from the football team, umbilical cords, you name it. Apparently, all those years of covering himself in pickle juice gave him the ability to preserve his cellular state and regenerate himself. From there on out, he rolled with Team Alpha Flight, cutting punk bitches and playing Heroclix afterwards.   

So there you have it. Now you know just how utterly sick Alpha Flight is and exactly how Wolverine got his healing factor. Shaman couldn't make it today cause he's out healing peoples roids and dandruff.

A Cruel Muse Inspires Gloomy Musings

Our minds are fickle things that choose to give us insight at the most inopportune times. As of late my bottled up existential thoughts have been pleading for the release of a despondent outpouring. I think it is because each day I am becoming more aware of just how utterly impotent and powerless I am. This frustration traps me in a fugue state where everything around me is truly incomprehensible and my very capacity for thought, focus, and communication escape me. This lack of clarity creates more failures which prolong my fugue state. A truly self sustaining vicious cycle. Then I find myself treating each day like a crumpled up rough draft thrown into a waste basket.

This is a little something that I had set aside for a time when I felt more inspired. It would seem that my muse goes by the name of regret. You will find that this is far less off-putting than me venting my petty grievances. The miserable little tirade from before is but a precursor for the innocuous inoculation of the human condition that I will now administer with the deftness of a quack. 

It is during these moments of reflection that we are forced to make peace with what we are, what we are not, what could have been, and what we will never be. The totality of thought that forms our very being is purely ephemeral. As such, it lacks any definite shape and character. It may be nothing more than just the remnants of a repeated firing of neurons, like spent mortar shells.

Many have proffered their own recipe for success and happiness. Snake oil vendors and prophets alike have tried to give a name or symbol, turn into a consumable, or write a manifesto for that very thing that keeps us going in the face of incessant futility and frivolity. When in fact it has no form. It could very well be just nothing more than an ideal arrangement of neural pathways and a perfect balance of neurotransmitters and hormones. If this is true then the search for either contentment or enlightenment are nothing more than just a wild goose chase.

Daoism had the foresight and wisdom to call this amorphous thing The Way.