UNCA BUZZKILL SEZ . . .

Cock-Eyed Optimism is the Disease – Unca Buzzkill Is the Cure!*********************************************************

Hi, kids, and welcome to this week’s edition of “Unca Buzzkill Sez.” Unca Buzzkill would get up to greet you, but he’s about half in the bag . . . and you would be too, if you were paying any attention.

Last week, we talked about how everything that looks good, sounds good, tastes good, or feels good will eventually kill you as dead as Leona Helmsley, and how if you leave all your money to your dog, she’ll just pee on it.

The week before, we talked about how immortality serum is a horrible idea, because if you think the health insurance industry is a heartless bitch-on-wheels now, hoo boy, just wait until everybody’s living to a hundred and eighty-four. Not to mention the fact that when your kids (and their kids, and their kids, and their kids) finally decide to murder you because they’re tired of you sucking away their meager resources decade after decade after decade, they’ll have to douse you with Ronsonol and set you on fire to make sure your selfish butt stays dead. And then they’ll probably eat you, since you’ll likely be the only source of protein left in the county.

The week before that, we talked about the yellow, oily gunk they put on popcorn at the movies. (Wake up, people. That is NOT butter.)

This week, we’re gonna talk about how you don’t really have to worry about any of that, since the odds are darn good that Homo sapiens has already started swirling down toward the Cosmic Drain of the Porcelain Bowl of Existence (this phrase copyright 2007, Unca Buzzkill Productions).

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