GTH-Compassion

I am Going to Hell, GTH, and Number 2: My Lack of Compassion



While relieving the four beers and the beef Burrito I ate at 2am today, my attention moved from absolute stench of the moment to a crime related headline in the newspaper.



“Death row inmate: I'm too fat to execute”



In Columbus, Ohio a death row inmate named Richard Cooey, 41, says he is too fat to be executed after raping and murdering two young women in 1986.



The article centers on the possibility that the fat ass will have pain during his execution because it is difficult to find his veins due to his oversized carcass. His trophy to gluttony makes it difficult to deliver enough anesthesia to reduce the pain from the lethal injection that would be used to kill him.


Instead of taking his plea for leniency and showing him some compassion I go into a rant:

You fuckin fat bastard, if you didn’t spend your time eating lard and cheese sandwiches, you may have given a woman an opportunity to give you a little sexual pleasure before your crime spree.


But NO, you take the hard road to pleasure and rape and murder women in desperation.

Then after all that, you want us to give you a pass, because you are still a fat bastard and we will not be able to find your veins?


Wrong answer. Here are your options:

1. Go on a rice cake and water diet until you can lose enough weight so we can administer the anesthesia so your fat worthless ass will not feel the pain of death; OR


2. We stick you fat ass into a guillotine and cut your head off, then you can eat to your heart’s content without gaining any weight.


You have 30 days to choose a method, if you fail to comply, we will just put a shotgun in your mouth and blow your head off!

Related: GTH-Courtesy – No. 1

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GTH: Courtesy

Since I have succumbed to the thought of eternal suffering and the hot sluts in hell, I figured I would let you know Why in a series of posts, Going to Hell, GTH, to be done while Damian 666 is scratching the pimples on his backside:

Number 1: My Obsession with Courtesy

This weekend sucked.

The weather was hot and humid as I cruised the local establishments looking for eager participants for frolics of curiosity. All the women that wanted to sweat and slobber on my chest had articles of clothing so disgustingly stuck up their crack as they walked to the ladies room I just abandoned the whole idea. Friday was just a worthless waste of beer and scotch at the local establishments.

Saturday with a heavy head and an itchy waste ejection port I went to the local pharmacy to get some ointment to keep me from scratching and digging into the nuisance area. I stroll past the $2.99 pints of cologne, the ladies stick, rags and jelly section to the backside relief aisle.

I am just about to reach for the ideal product of relief when macho man butts in front of me and snatches some medicated tissue paper. Well excuse me, we have an immortal being here!

With all the common courtesy I can muster I ask him: Am I f*ckin invisible, don’t you see me here!

He shows me the same courtesy back: F*CK U, ASSHOLE!

My elbow working on his own lands on his chin to my amazement. Oops, excuse me as he crawls his way out of the Penelope Cruz’ Loreal Ad display. I say to myself, yes, Penelope, I am Worth It!

With a newfound sense of entitlement, I just can’t resist kicking a lack of courtesy in the head while he is down. I pick up my hat and walk through a sea of customers not quite ready to pay for their goods and pay for my relief.

Sunday wasn’t much better as I lost a complete day of reading your bullshit. You can read how my Sunday went as I tried to cure a case of herpes at Me & My Dodo.


Related: Preparation H

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Another Trick

Thanks to Damian 666, AKA, DAMO, I get the opportunity to take off my feathers and write a post as a human being. However, I am pretty sure he has conned me into filling up space on his blog while he goes and grabs men’s dirty shorts playing a bone pirate’s sport like rugby. So be it.

Since I am now at a sub station of Hell, delving into the subject is probably appropriate here. Let’s take an opportunity to look at my situation with open minds and eyes and whatever toxic substance you use to make you coherent to the world around you.

Since the moment the human species stopped smearing piss, blood and shit on the walls of caves we have had two approaches to the ideology of Heaven and Hell.

Be good and you go to heaven.
Be bad and you go straight to Hell

However, like all other rules there are fallacies to the plan that can often be considered bullshit.

No one is good all the time.
No one is bad all the time.

Already a problem in the first rule, before we even use the other side of our brain.

At this point some SmartAss comes up with the idea that as long as you believe, you can screw up the Number 2 Rule. However, you must try and follow the rules of Number 1. WTF?

Okay, I will play along a bit, how hard do I have to try to follow the rules of Number 1. Can I break forty percent of the rules of Number 1, and still get in to Heaven? Do any of the Rules of Number 1 have more weight than others?

Too many questions and not enough answers, again, we work on the plan.

As of this moment, we have sacrificed one of you to make it easier for you to get in. Now if you say you are sorry for breaking the Rules of Number 1, you can still get in. Great, but what happen to the dude that got sacrificed?

Don’t worry he is in even waiting on you in Heaven.

Wait a minute! I know damn well I would be pissed if you sacrificed me so others could get in the club. Sounds like a trick to me.

You know what, I would rather go to a place where I know for sure everyone is going to be pissed. Send me to Hell.
Ref: Bone Pirate – one who steals a boner

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