Archive for Panic

Avian Swine Flu Pandemic Berserker.

Posted in Tales From Hell with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 20, 2009 by Buck Frain

SWINE_FLU_WARNING

Swine flu! Fucking swine flu! We’re all going to die! Fuck, let’s all run around like stupid ill-informed fucktards until we drop dead from exhaustion or get murdered by someone sick to their back teeth with our mindless hysteria!

It seems the whole cunting world has lost its shit over the latest style of cold. Last year it was bird flu. Everyone was pissing themselves that bird flu was going to destroy the world. What happened? Fuck all. This year it’s swine flu. At my workplace we all got a patronising fucking email from HR last week telling us all to be vigilant about hygiene in view of the threat of the swine flu pandemic, to use tissues when touching door knobs and never to put our hands near our faces because that’s how germs are spread. Then today I come to work to discover that anti-bacterial handwash dispensers have been installed all over the fucking place. Yes, I’m fucking serious! For cunt’s shitting sake! There’s only been one reported case of swine flu in the whole of Australia and even worldwide the disease, generally speaking, just makes people a bit sick. Naturally the media are going to beat it up into the biggest thing in since sliced bread but anyone with half a brain knows it’s all a pile of horseshit. Add to that, that swine flu is a virus not bacterial so the logic behind installing anti-bacterial goo dispensers becomes even more obscure. 

The people in this building are fucking idiots. Panic over a disease that one person in Australia might have, wash your hands ‘til the skin drops off…but then stuff your obese pie hole with Krispy Kreme and McDonald’s – but it gives me comfort – Fuck yeah, fear the swine flu! Fuck knows, heart disease never killed anyone did it ya fat cunts? You’re gonna die of pig’s arse not pig’s fucking flu. I fucking well despair at the lack of perspective, the blind fear and the wanton stupidity. 

The human race is a blight on the face of the Earth. I watched that tossy remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still last night and I have to side with Klaatu on this…well…before his superior intelligence gave way to emasculated sentimental fuckheadedness and he left the whole planet to be destroyed by people because we’re vulnerable and occasionally nice to each other. What the shit??? 

Fuck everybody, I say! Bring on the swine flu pandemic. May it mutate with avian flu and create a berserker-super-virus that dessimates the human population and leaves us cowed and beaten, fighting for survival against mutant flying pigs. I’d be prepared to die for the cause just so long as a good 5 billion or so useless cretins bite the dust with me. The planet is grotesquely over-populated and the human race is too selfish, infantile and stupid to ever make the necessary decisions to save it. We need an apocalyptic catastrophe to make what remains of humanity consider changing the way they do things. Nothing short of near-annihilation will get the message through, we’re just not smart enough for subtle hints. Stupid fucking monkeys! Survival of the fattest is not sustainable, it never fucking was. Bring on epic Darwinian cruelty! The dinosaurs had their time and we’ve had ours. Hell, if any of us survive we can use the dead as fertilizer and replant the bloody planet! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGHHH!!!

Things To NOT Do When You’re In a Hurry.

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 12, 2008 by Buck Frain

#1. Shave Your Balls.

 

I slept through my alarm this morning. Well, that’s not exactly true. I kept pushing snooze, getting another five minutes, pushing snooze getting another five minutes, pruning down the things I had to do before leaving the house with a semi-sleeping brain, pushing snooze, you get the idea. At some point I guess I must have pushed Off by mistake and just kept sleeping.

 

I awoke with a jolt. It was late. Not too late but I have a thing about being late – namely, I fucking hate it – so I was in a state of mild distress. I could still get to work on time but I was under pressure, my insufficiently oxygenated calculations on what had to be done and how much time I’d need were abysmally poor, I was looking down the barrel of no breakfast, possibly even no coffee. No coffee, as you’ll remember, means no shit and starting the day all bunged up – ah, it would be a cunt of a day!

 

I jumped into the shower and in retrospect could have cut down time by leaving certain personal grooming details for another day, but I didn’t. I decided to shave my ballbag. I first shaved the bag about six years ago. I tried it once to impress a girlfriend and just never went back. Yes, it did work, she was quite impressed, it was the rest of me that ruined things there in the end, but I digress. The freshly shaven bag is a wonderful thing. Gentlemen, if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend* it. Unfortunately, the scrotum is not the easiest thing in the world to shave and today, with the pressure of lateness upon me, I was rushing. I nicked the bag.

 

Just a little nick. For a moment I wasn’t even sure if I’d cut or imagined it. Of course, that moment was very short-lived and followed by extreme panic as it began to bleed. It didn’t spurt or anything graphic like that, it just dripped with determined rapidity. Oh fuck! I’ve cut the bag! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I examined the wound, the warm water of the shower washing it clean. One tiny cut, less than a millimeter, not deep, just a layer of skin but right on a vein. The water was quite hot, the bleeding was quite consistent, the ballbag is nothing but thin skin covered with small veins, my heart was pumping, the shower looked like Psycho. The bag!!! Fuck it, I’ve cut the bag! And I’m late for work!

 

I turned the taps off and grabbed a towel and, carefully to avoid the balls, compressed the damaged piece of scrotum in the towel to stem the flow of blood. First aid training, you beauty! Compress the wound to stop the bleeding. I had to get it to stop quickly because I was going to be late for work so I stood in the bathroom like a hunchback, one hand compressing my slashed bag, the other doing a crap job of drying the rest of me with another towel. What a pathetic sight, I was so glad to live alone.

 

How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I leave it for another day? IDIOT!!! After about five minutes of compression I checked the bag. The bleeding started right back up exactly like before, a rapid dripping. Oh fuck! How to make it stop. I grabbed a bottle of liquid styptic out of the medicine cabinet. I use it on my face when I cut myself shaving, how is it I’ve never cut the bag before? I dabbed styptic on the bag. SWEET SHITTING FUCK MONSTER!!! Wow, I thought that shit stung my face. No result, still bleeding. I tried again. CUNTING ARSE PISS MOTHERFUCKER!!! Yep, that really does smart. Still bleeding. My bathroom was starting to look like a crime scene. Could I bleed to death from this? What a hideous way to die. Fuck, they’ll think it was some bizarre suicide. Humiliation even in death. I’ve GOT to get ready for work. Band aids. Yes! That will work. Applying band aids to a scrotum is no easy thing either. Who designed balls? Who fuckin’ did this? How fucking ridiculous…? Alright…calm down! The band aids wouldn’t stay on because the blood soaked straight through them. I was starting to worry that I might be losing a dangerous amount of blood. Also, how could I explain this? What would I tell The Wobblers? No no no, it was all too terrible to contemplate. I decided to bleed freely all over the bathroom floor while I rummaged through the contents of the medicine cabinet. Fabric Elastoplat. One large one and a packet of normal size fabric elastoplast. They’re better than the plastic band aids because they’ve got that hardcore adhesive and they’re fabric so they stretch. I opened the big one and about fifteen little ones, peeled all the backings off them and laid them sticky side up on the washing machine. Taking the big one in one hand, I wiped the scrote clean with the bloody towel and quickly stuck the big plaster over the wound. I pressed all the edges down – very careful to not press ball, just bag. Then before the blood could soak through, I reinforced it with the smaller plasters, building up a barrier against the bleeding, I would make it stop. Ha! Fuck you, circulatory system! I kept peeling and applying plasters until I was satisfied. I waited for a few minutes…it held. This would have to do.

 

Of course, my balls by this stage resembled a softball. As I got dressed I realised my cunning strategy may well attract a lot of attention. Not more attention than a bleeding crotch perhaps, but still it wasn’t a good look. What a choice: elephantitis balls or man-struation? Too late to worry now.  I left the house of horrors and caught the train. I kept glancing at myself fearing that the dressing wasn’t holding the blood flow. I was certain on a few occasions that I felt wetness in my pants. Terror! No, I was just Buster Gonad and His Unfeasibly Large Testicles.

 

The easter egg in my pants held. No-one commented about by abnormally huge balls, for which I was very thankful. I kept a very low profile at work, I kept all movement to a minimum. I worked and left. On removing the dressing when I got home I discovered the bleeding had stopped and I was fine. I cleaned the abbatoir that was my bathroom.

 

I will continue to shave my bag, despite today’s near-death experience. Not because I’m some sort of self-mutilator or adrenaline junkie, but because I like the feeling of a smooth scrote. But, I will only shave it when I have time to be leisurely about it. They’re the only balls I have and they deserve better than a hasty once-over with a fucking razor blade.

 

 

* What I don’t recommend is waxing. Tried it, don’t go there, it’s bad. Very, very bad.

 

 

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