#stuffwhitepeopledo

Hi, everyone. I would like to take a quick moment to remind you that it is already 2012. Twenty. Twelve. Two oh uno dos. The Chinese Year of the Eastern Mongolian Panic Attack. We are all plummeting towards our respective, yet inevitable end, and literally nothing that you do would even approach the concept of preventing this. Your particular unavoidable demise could come any day now, but what have you done with your life? Got your GED? Hit an innocent pedestrian with your dad’s Volvo? Peeled all the stickers off of a Rubick’s Cube and reapplied them so it looks like you solved it? We can all tell you did that, dude. It’s so obvious. And, dude, it is not as if owning a solved Rubick’s Cube means you were the one who solved it. You’re aware that they’re... like, sold that way, right? Even if we didn’t know you’re a total cheater, we would probably just assume you were too chicken to shuffle it up when your grandma gave it to you as a Flag Day present when you were in the 7th grade. All I am saying is, you are simply not making any large-scale progress in life by claiming petty fraud as personal accomplishment.

If you are a human being who is alive on Earth right now, you are obviously aware of the concept of the Bucket List. It’s a list you make when you’re getting old, and it is filled with grandiose crap you hope to do before you buy the farm. This list (so named for its inventor, Listley von Bucketsburg) represents much of our collective inability to enjoy life to its fullest. We’re not even able to enjoy life to its semi-fullest. If life is a box of chocolates, then the amount of the box that people truly enjoy is equivalent to that one weird chocolate one in the top left that’s filled with like, pistachio butter. Basically, our lives sound delicious, but taste like pure garbage.  Your bucket list is jam-packed with things that sound suspiciously—no, outrageously—impossible (#322. Skydive off the Eiffel Tower! Yeah!!) and then you spend your life finding out that, yes, your instincts were correct, it is not possible or legal to base jump off a national monument and parachute into the metropolis below without having a surprisingly large reserve of expendable cash to use for bribes. But, Paris police, beware: I AM going to bribe you to let me do that before I kick the buc—ohhhh, THAT’s why they call it a Bucket List. Man, the von Bucketsburg family is NOT going to be happy about this one.