6 February 2008 - 0:00Lent: making masturbation more enticing than ever.

For those of you who don’t know, Lent is a Christian tradition in which people give up an object of affection beginning on Ash Wednesday (the day after Mardi Gras) and ending on Easter Sunday. It’s a symbolic gesture of sacrifice akin to that of the Christian Lord and Savior Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ’s death on a cross for the salvation of mortal souls. I have a couple of friends who happen to be Christian and decided to give up something for Lent: pop, candy, Facebook…you know, things only people without hair on their nuts would give up because they need diapers to eat spicy food and are generally whiny cry babies. After a few of these taint scabs told me things they were giving up, I felt it necessary to fuck start their skulls and propose they give up something that requires something more than a pulse and blind fear of a god to do. Too easy.

If you’re a Christian fanatic who can’t think of something bad ass to give up during Lent, I have complied a list of things only real men and a few women’s basketball players would have the balls to give up.

* Masturbation

Ever been addicted to nicotine, morphine or heroin? People will try to tell you that those drugs are some of the hardest things to give up. But, in the end, it’s possible. How many times have you ever heard of someone giving up masturbating for any amount of time, let alone 40 days? Never. And if you have, that person was lying to you. If you combined all the addictive elements of nicotine, morphine, heroin and beef jerky, you wouldn’t even be close to the sheer dependency masturbation holds over anyone who’s ever done it. The only positive that comes out of giving this up is that you will be angry. All the time. You will shout at children for no good reason. You will abuse the elderly. You will punch loved ones in the face while you sleep and at funerals. You will fuck mattresses and grapefruits and call it legitimate sex.

Everything you say or hear will connote masturbation. The story of how your aunt finished off cancer treatment? Yep. The time your grandfather told you how he beat off a slew of raccoons gnawing at your father’s genitals, which, coincidentally, explains your aptitude in being a completely inept bag of fuck? Absolutely. The promise your uncle made to you not to jerk off inside your ass, but would pull out and douse your sister in her sleep? You bet your traumatized, sodomized ass.

The dilemma of asking yourself “What pants do I wear today,” will have only one answer, and that answer is wrong. Too tight and you’ll swear there’s nothing better than thigh fucking yourself. Too loose and you’ll join Greenpeace to pay back Mother Nature for the incredible blow job she gave you. The only option you have is man up and get laid. Except you couldn’t get laid if you were a Persian rug. You lose.

* Menstruating

Myth has it that Jesus gave his blood for the salvation of all peoples. One person’s blood is more than enough for mankind. Do yourself and everyone else a favor and stop menstruating. I know some people will argue that it’s impossible to do so unless you’re a crusty old lady. I ask, what kind of Christian are you? Jesus fucking DIED for your soul. You can’t give up belching blood from the ol’ squish mitten for 40 days? How much more selfish can you be? I guess if you aren’t willing to give up menstruating, how about giving up bitching about it? We know, you’re cramping and irritable. Get over it, pussy. We don’t care.

* Breathing

Imagine how grateful Jesus would be if you just decided to stop breathing for 40 days. That would be one hell of a sacrifice. And in the end you’d be closer to Jesus than ever. Shit, I might even respect you if you managed to pull that off (See?). Don’t hold your breath though. Actually, do. Forever.

* Being a fat fucking slob.

Seriously, just because you have big tits doesn’t make you attractive. Stop wearing fucking cutoff shirts. The last thing I need is a reason to avert my eyes from the one marginal pair of assets you have by means of an amorphous glob of “it’s genetic” spilling over the waistband of your homeless-lady sweatpants. Just because you can’t squeeze your fat ass into a pair of fucking men’s 48 waist jeans doesn’t give you the right to dress like a fucking vagrant. By the way, pulling your thong so far up your ass that it comes out half digested is just fucking wrong. Dick, meet hot oven door. Yeah, we see it half way up the small of your back. Can fat chicks even call it that, the small of the back? Probably not…it would justify them eating another eight pies if you describe anything on them small. And yeah, you think you can pull it off. You can’t. It’s gross. It’s like looking at a sumo wrestler’s ass crack. Stop it. Lose some weight for Christ’s sake. Literally.

-Jesus high fived me for my ideas right before he rode his motorcycle into the sun.