Candy Land:The True, Tragic Tale Of History's Most Delicious Genocide

The residents of candy land liked to think that their quiet sugary utopia was a safehaven for all candy kind. A place in which the denizens were not judged by the color of their coating but by the content of their artificially sweetened cores. Candy land prided itself on it's civility and sense of justice, being ruled by a wise although later on incestually produced candy aristocracy.
You can ask anyone if they know of candy land and they will immediately shout back "Yes of course!" and spout multiple incoherent claims through a torrent of nostalgic tears. However this love of "The Nation of Candy" brings about a question that many are too afraid to answer, or maybe to ashamed of their barbarism to respond to.
"Why still eat candy?" Many people are able to acknowedge the existence of a candy society while devouring what might as well be the stringy(yet delicious) spinal chord of Lord Licorice himself. Now I realize that visual was grotesque, but let it only magnify the social ills that plague our society and the true savage nature of our people. Would you feel comfortable eating a hot dog if it showed you pictures of it's grand children first?
Candy Land's tragic descent into the refugee camp it is today would start in 1949 when the game hit shelves. The nation of candy land was devastated by the industrial revolution, as their people were now being genetically engineered by the thousands only to be sent to their doom in the homes of the average American family.Representatives of Candy Land, after failing to have a cease fire recognized by the united nations would approach marketing executives with what would become one of the worlds least successfull propoganda campaigns of all time. Creating a simple game portraying the denizens of candy land in a glorious monarchal light, The plan was simple, it would garner respect and support through slanted imagery and a simplistic quest to move from one end of candy land to the other. Thus candy land was born,and for a moment, the residents of the confectionary commune's eyes glazed over with hope(go back and re-read that sentence if you can still read this one. It means your mind hasn't been blown yet)But this hope would prove a false one, as the barbaric attacks on candy land only increased tenfold as candy production sky rocketed upon release of the game. Citizens were pulled from their homes and cut to pieces, brutally beaten, and viciously raped(All but the last assisting the process of packaging the candy)
Candy Land became a shanty town, harboring the last war torn refugees of the once proud kingdom. The residents eventually became so fearful that they refused all access from the outside world, soon falling victim to cannibalism and incest, from which the character "Gloppy the molasses monster" was born. Candy land has lived on as a broken shadow of the glorious empire it once was, just recently being devastated by an expiditionary force led by Dora The Explorer in 2003, her new world diseases and foreign influence decimating 70% of the remaining population. So please, for the love of god think twice before you support the candy industry,now armed with the knowledge of knowing those whose lives you are affecting.Ask your local candy vendor before purchasing sweets, because your licorice isn't red due to Amaranth FD&C Red No. 2, it's red with the blood of innocents.

Exercise: Once Is Enough

I'm not completely out of shape, I require no rolling to move from place to place, I do not drive a Hummer H2 and I do not write down that my legal parent/guardian is "The Burger King" on paperwork. I can say however that I am not in good enough physical condition to do some pretty every day activities, such as repeatedly getting up to access the refrigerator(which is a like 15 feet from the couch. Insane? Yes.) and methodically brush Cheetos crumbs off of my beaten up college sweatshirt. I decided that I would start to work out, or "Exercise" as the experts call it in order to allow me to truly indulge without the shame of having to call 911 when trading spaces comes on and I'm too far to reach the remote(They do not appreciate that by the way. Batons hurt! Ouch!) Instinctively the first step of my journey was to acquire equipment that would get me in shape for me, as effort was very low on my priorities list. I spent hours upon hours scouring the Internet searching for the perfect piece of fitness technology to transform me into the hulking Adonis I am on the inside. I found many an aggressively described piece of equipment. However with such phrases as "Abs of steel!" and "Blasted Pecs!" they seemed to describe the robot holocaust more than a physical fitness apparatus. Finally I found what I was looking for, as I gazed upon it in all of it's matte painted glory I realized that you had to pay money to acquire it. My hopes were shattered as I realized the crucial flaw in my plan, I tried to bargain, I offered my antique Victorian era duck sculpture collection, and finally my body which I thought would work seeing as I was using Craig's list. Long story short. It didn't and I'm worse off then I started. I've been forced to sell painted M&M's as fake prescription medication and constantly change my name and move around the country. Which I must say is less inconvenient then you'd think as I am simply loaded into a van on my couch and carted off to the next destination. At first the movers were irritated and less then enthusiastic about the heavy lifting, but that's nothing a hand full of "Chocolate Quaaludes" can't fix. So I've failed at my goal, but I'd like to think not all is lost. I believe I've learned some real valuable information about life like that Craig's list fitness equipment may be a repackaged erotic torture device, and that manual laborers can be easily persuaded with prescription drugs, but mostly that staying in shape is not only unnecessary,it's un-American, I'm not fat, just loaded with freedom, and I plan on living the American dream from my Ikea 3 cushion lounge couch. God Bless America.

My Beard

I want a beard. Pretty damn badly.......Alright I need one, it's not a joke anymore. While the prospect of growing a beard is a romantic one, the process has been all but what I've expected. I've found that growing a beard is like making a bunch of new friends without really knowing anything about them just because you're lonely. Just having them at first is great...but after a month you start to realize that having hobbies ending with"Philia" isn't that normal and that Jerry(Your personal favorite) is a rose lacquered coffee table. Within the first few days my facial hair is respectable. I even get compliments, which in no way is due to my application of subtle makeup arrows on my cheeks to draw attention to my face. Outside of subliminal attempts to be accepted, I figured there must be some easy way to grow a beard. So I observed people who have beards, and after producing multiple charts filled with numbers and lines I came to a pretty decisive conclusion. You have to be a douche bag. After submitting and receiving rejection letters from multiple scientific journals I began my revolutionary experiment. I started calling my friends and asking what they were doing, and than cutting them off and saying "Fuck that bro! let's play some bp". I would savor the resulting silence until I again shattered it with a "Fuck yeah" before hanging up. I started making terribly awkward race jokes in front of people and then supplementing them with "it's funny because it's true" and lastly I aggressively defending Dave Matthews band and took off my shirt a good five minutes before starting a fight. This as an added bonus let everyone see my tribal arm band tat, and my misspelled Chinese lettering of "power". So after multiple benders and my short stint of working atAbercrombie and Fitch I decided to check if my follicle growing power had increased. I looked in my mirror to discover the horror that had beset my face. Reflected off my generic gold chain necklace was no great plumage of hair but my scrawny chin. I wept for hours, and I suppose in a gesture of false hope called up my friend and made fun of him for being a pussy because I saw him cry last week. Plus he was wearing sneakers to his own grandmas funeral, how trashy is that? Anyway these results destroyed my hypothesis and left me clamoring for other scientific words to use along with a dictionary with which to reclaim my vocabulary. All of this is just too much to take in. Speaking of which I drank about 30 celebratory natty ices to commemorate the end of the experiment,and I can't feel my legs.

Top 3 Innocent Games That If Randomly Initiated With Strangers Might Get You Put You In Jail

1. Twister-

I have to mention first that I had a hard time classifying twister as an "innocent" game, due to the fact any game that requires people to entwine their bodies can't be too family friendly. There has to be something wrong with a game that when coupled with a slap bass line, and an awkward mustache or two can be considered soft core pornography. Now I'm not very up to date with my legal terms, but I'm also fairly certain that "Spontaneous Twister" is substitutable for "Sexual Assault" in the court of law.

2. "Would You Rather"-

While in the context of a friend setting "Would You Rather" comes across as a simple gross out exchange, when played with someone you don't know it takes a much different tone, coming closer to terrifying threats. Such as "Would you rather be stabbed to death? Or be choked to death?" Now unless the askee is massively suicidal, this will most likely be met with screaming, running, and calling for help(the order of those three is interchangeable)

3. Tag

Tag is a game of physical exertion agility and speed, which will all most likely come in handy when you are running from the police. Tag with random people becomes horrendously inappropriate in these situations.

1. With someone who was just in a moderately bad accident and is still in their vehicle.

2. At the tops of stairs (escalators also)

3. With babies(Premature are even worse)

4. With people who have BBS(brittle bone syndrome)

5. Pregnant women.

6. Cops(mall cops not included. Because let's be honest, what are they going to do?)

7.With frail old people.

8. On the Olympic winners podium.

9. While J walking

10. With the recipient of an open casket funeral( On another note you automatically end the game by doing this. Bummer.)