You're going to hell, it's almost certain.
I know my readership, and I can say without hesitation that you're a pretty depraved bunch. Luckily, the world has a fair amount of do-gooder types who are even now out there struggling to find new, innovative ways to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, heal the sick and educate the underprivileged. You? You're probably on Day 24 of an internet porn masturbation marathon. If you've ever helped anyone, it was by leaving the room so the stench could dissipate. You make me sick.
And yet...there may still be hope for you.
My friend and coworker, Gena, is trying to raise funds for the March of Dimes. Now, before you get all indignant and shout, "Hold it right there--I don't want anything to do with one of those insipid do-gooders who spend all their time helping others. I can't identify with that kind of person at all," let me assure you: Gena is just as depraved as you are. Well, maybe not THAT depraved, but close. She's a friend of mine, and I promise you, any friend of mine is steeped in depravity. Just because she's taken a few moments away from abusing her liver to participate in a little fundraising doesn't mean she's gone all Angelina Jolie on us. So calm down.
The March of Dimes is an organization that raises a lot of money to help save premature babies. How does this affect you, sitting there in your squalid abode, surrounded by 138 cats in varying stages of disease, and several hundred empty Twinkies containers? Well, think about it: Since my own son Jake was born 6 weeks premature and spent 2 weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit, it stands to reason that it's the March of Dimes who brought you such fascinating, intellectually stimulating reading as this post from November, 2005. That's right, you can thank the good folks at The March of Dimes for Jake, the inspiration for so many of the top-quality blog posts you've read here at Karlababble.com. (If you're scratching your head and asking yourself, "If the kid is so bloody inspirational, why does Karla only post about once per millennium these days?"--good question. Unfortunately, Jake no longer resides with us. Frankly, I'm not sure where he is. In the spirit of good parenthood, we decided to take him to the zoo one day, but things went haywire when we indulged in three too many bottles of Wild Turkey before heading out that morning. Long story short, when we returned from the zoo that evening, we were unloading the car, and eventually realized Jake wasn't in there. Before you self-righteously label me a bad mom, let me just inform you that I made not one but two calls to the zoo's Lost and Found department, where I was told they did a thorough search of the cardboard box under the counter and found several umbrellas, a couple of pairs of sunglasses and a set of car keys, but no 3-year-old boys. Can't say I didn't try.)
At any rate, The March of Dimes is good, good stuff. They do more good in 15 minutes than you'll do your whole life. I suggest that, in a small attempt to stave off the fires of hell, you go henceforth to Gena's March for Babies page and make a donation--however small--to this worthy cause. Not sure how much to donate? I recommend you calculate how much your meth addiction costs you per month, and donate 7% of that total. If each one of you did that, there'd be enough money to save approximately 14 zillion premature babies, cure AIDS, herpes and bacterial meningitis, and pay back the national deficit. Twice.
So, please--reach deep into your pockets. Oh, God, wait...stop that. That's disgusting. Seriously, stop that. I'm going to vomit. Christ, why do I try to humanize you degenerates?
I'd contribute, but one hand is stuck to the keyboard, and the other to my penis.
Although, now that I think about it, if I donate, am I buying a baby? Do I get to pick one out for myself, or do they just send me one? Is there a catalog I can view?
How am I supposed to buy with the 7% I'm giving up? I'm all out of organs to sell. The rest are vital.
Sorry to put this in the comment, but I have no other way of contacting you. Looks like Common Wombat has been "up to something." I found this on perezhilton.com
"Man Claims to Speak 'Australian' After Allegedly Being Raped by Wombat"
A New Zealand man has been sentenced to community service after telling police he was raped by a wombat and the experience had made him speak "Australian".
Arthur Ross Cradock, 48, from the South Island town of Motueka, called police on February 11 and told them he was being raped at his home by the wombat and he needed help, The Nelson Mail newspaper reported.
The orchard worker later called back and said: "Apart from speaking Australian now, I'm pretty all right, you know."
Cradock pleaded guilty in the local court to using a phone for a fictitious purpose. He was sentenced to 75 hours' community work.
Police prosecutor Sergeant Chris Stringer told the court alcohol played a large role in Cradock's life.
As a childless spinster, I would like to echo EA's interest in whether or not I will receive my very own preemie? I mean, I'm all for the miracle experience of birthing my own preemie, but if there's an easier way, I'll go for it. I mean, I only occasionally black out after a night of drinking these days, and it will save me the trouble of interviewing potential donors for my lovechild...
I might have some spare change you can have. Feel free to reach inside my pants and take anything you find.
The Strong One: The wombat story is totally true. Common Wombat has been taking a break from blogging while he tours the world committing rape and petty theft.
Mighty Dyckerson: Most charities like to say they accept all donations no matter how small. However, the donation you offered was the first in history to be rejected on the grounds that it really is too small to be seen by the human eye. Perhaps you could just donate a penny instead?
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