The Questionable Guidance, Unreliable Wisdom, and Confusing Musings of Matthew Fugere
Another Place Where I Leave Things On The Internet
I made a Wordpress where I’ll be keeping all my short stories that I like to tinker with. Each one has a bad illustration, too! That’s like two pieces of mediocre self-expression for the price of however long it took me to make them!
It’s The Most Suicidal Time Of The Year (Now With More Things)
Originally posted last year, now with more things. It’s almost like an expansion pack:
Few words blissfully meld in a harmonious dance of synonymy like holidays and suicide. As the temperature falls and the traffic gets dumber, people ‘round the world prepare to gather and celebrate whatever traditions and customs their dead relatives dictate. It’s also when a bunch of people decide to off themselves; something about the joy of a lot of people makes a bunch of other people really depressed.
It’s easy to lose focus as to why you should bother to keep trudging on, particularly when Jingle Bells gets played on the radio, in malls, and at any place with a speaker system twelve times a minute. But before you decide to carve your name into a wall and kick a stool from under your feet, you should probably know that there’s a pretty big world available filled with stuff to make you not wanna do those things I mentioned in the previous section of this sentence. Here’s a list of stuff to make you not wanna kill yourself or, at the very least, postpone it for awhile:
- Oatmeal cookies
- Pictures of baby sloths
- A chance to outlive Rupert Murdoch
- What if the sun blows up? Wouldn’t wanna miss that
- Replace “the sun blows up” in the last one with any of the following: the apocalypse happens; the moon turns out to be cheese; the core of the earth is chocolate; penguins start to grow hands; you find a talking baby
- Wine in boxes
- There might be a twenty-dollar bill in your pocket. Check. Is there? If not, I’m sorry.
- Remember that person who did that thing to you that you weren’t fond of? That person has cancer now
- I hear Arrested Development is coming back on the air. You should at least stick around for that (update: it totally actually is!)
- Paradoxes. They’re just so fun. This statement is false. Isn’t that fun?
- Let’s be honest: someone is going to have sex with your dead body.
- You won’t get a chance to finish Lost. I know season five is kinda slow, but season six is fantastic. Seriously, just give it a shot
- Are those new shoes? They look good on you.
- $25 Limited Edition Tim McGraw Outback Steakhouse Gift Cards
- Using your $25 Limited Edition Tim McGraw Outback Steakhouse Gift Cards to feed a family of travelling circus folk
- Bullet points
- Thinking about a gun that makes bullet points instead of actual bullets and how that could probably lead to world peace
- Bellybutton lint
- The smell of your bellybutton
- The feeling of putting a cotton-swab inside your bellybutton
- You’re thinking about doing that right now, aren’t you?
- Go ahead, I won’t judge
- Pretty cool, right?
- Ikea Monkey
- 15 baby ducks figuring out how to walk
- Alarm clocks (they’re just so helpful)
- Interesting looking rocks
- Blankets made out of lotion and honey (they don’t exist but think about it)
- The internet. It’s actually really cool
- Commercial flights to the moon
- Puppies with heads way too big for their bodies
- Any animal wearing clothes or doing people things
- That Pi and Pie are both real words with distinctly different meanings
- Really good questions about doors (I can’t think of any, but you don’t wanna miss out on something like that)
- Finding a frog
If you’re reading this, I prefer you being not dead. With any luck, this list has provided you a substantial amount of not-being-dead-sustenance (you can actually buy that at most drug stores—it’s usually near the single rack of cat supplies).
I feel like I’ve gotten off topic. The point is this: as tempting as it may be to kill yourself when the Christmas lights go up, there are still plenty of things worth checking out on this dumb rock while you’re here. When alcohol isn’t enough to kill the depression that comes this time of year, just take a look at this list and everything should turn out just fine.
More Things I Wrote On Other Things Or Something!(?)
I wrote some stuff at other places:
Video games and comedy, what’s not to adore?
A Reptilian Disposition (A Short Story)
When President Leon Johansson the Komodo Dragon was running for his party’s nomination, every facet of his personality and history was used against him. Not a debate went by without a contender of the race using “facts” like “you’re a lizard” or “I’m not sure you can even speak English” against the future president. Whenever these accusations were tossed about, President the Komodo Dragon’s handlers and trainers would let go of his leash, forcing every opponent to scamper off the stage.
“If they can’t even debate Senator Leon Johansson the Komodo Dragon without abandoning the stage,” attack ads from President the Komodo Dragon’s campaign would declare while playing a looped five second video of the other contenders running from their podiums, “then are they really fit to lead our nation?” A slogan would then pop onto the screen: Vote for Senator the Komodo Dragon: He Won’t Run from a Fight.
President the Komodo Dragon swept the primaries, taking his party’s nomination. As autumn came and the race for president became heated, President the Komodo Dragon’s opponent, Governor Walter Wallace, did everything in his power to besmirch the name of Leon Johansson the Komodo Dragon.
“He wasn’t even born in his country!” Governor Wallace would proclaim to excited crowds of potential voters. “Forget the fact that he’s a reptile. Forget the fact that his saliva is toxic. Forget the fact that his tongue is weird. Just remember this: he’s not even American! Is that what you want? Someone who can’t even rightly say he was born in this country running the place?” Governor Wallace’s supporters cheered, soaking in every bit of rhetoric the presidential nominee had to offer.
President the Komodo Dragon’s campaign worked tirelessly to refute the claims. Every speech, they assured voters their candidate was born and raised in captivity in a South Carolinian zoo and not in his species’ native South Eastern Asia. The damage was done, though. The people were certain that President the Komodo Dragon should not be elected to office.
In September, nearly every national poll showed President the Komodo Dragon behind by twenty to thirty points. Every demographic viewed him unfavorably. The spirits of President the Komodo Dragon’s campaign were down. They knew there was only one last chance to sway the voters: the debates.
October came and the debates were held. The Vice Presidential debate was fierce. John McIntyre, a wildlife expert and President the Komodo Dragon’s primary keeper and trainer, was the lizard’s running mate. He knew nothing about foreign policy, education, the economy, or any other important issue being discussed. McIntyre was promptly crushed by Governor Wallace’s running mate. Winning the election seemed completely out of reach for President the Komodo Dragon.
Then the Presidential debates came. Right as Governor Wallace approached his podium, completely confident he would be the next President of the United States of America, President the Komodo Dragon was let off his leash. Governor Wallace, as any sane person would, ran off stage to avoid the incredibly dangerous reptile.
The poll numbers flipped, showing President the Komodo Dragon was the surest contender. Leon Johansson the Komodo Dragon was elected president in November. His inauguration was the first to feature a president swearing in with violent tongue gestures instead of words.
The reptilian’s administration barely left a mark on presidential history. Despite being the most unique individual to hold office, not much changed under President the Komodo Dragon’s leadership. Wars kept going, the economy kept doing whatever it is the economy does, and life to the general population felt about the same.
sirbombalot said: Would you rather have someone pour mildly hot tea on your crotch every morning at 7:00 AM to wake you up, or be attacked by fifteen squirrels once every day before you went to bed?
First off, thanks for the question Tim. You’re a scholar and a gentleman, and your consistent contribution to my internet dealings and meditations is a delight.
Both of these options are tests of my physical prowess—an aspect of my being that is rarely tested as I’m more of a stay-inside-and-avoid-anything-involving-physical-activity kind of guy. Here, we’re putting my endurance on trial.
The first choice, being woken up by mildly hot tea at 7:00 AM (something that would actually be difficult for someone to do as I wake up at 5:00 AM every day, but I’ll play along and pretend I get up at 7:00 AM for the sake of our game), would be irritating to no end. I’m sure it would be something I would never get used to either. Do you know what hazy, dream-like feeling you get when you wake up about half an hour before you need to, and then you half-sleep until your alarm goes off? That feeling is absolutely amazing. The idea of it being ruined by lukewarm tea infuriates me to no end. The big question here is this: who is dumping this tea? Is it a family member? Is it you? Is it the British? The answer to this question could easily change my choice, but we can’t linger on the unknown, can we?
Our second choice, being attacked by fifteen squirrels right before my slumber, is another test of my physical endurance. After all, there isn’t much I can do about fighting a swarm of squirrels off me. I could certainly try to punch them, but I would only anger them further, making the entire ordeal much more painful. As such, it would be wise to simply take the punishment from the almighty squirrel Gods (which are the only real Gods, by the way) and endure. I actually like the idea of this event happening right before bed. It could use up the small amount of energy I have left at the end of the day, putting me to rest easier.
I have to pick the squirrel option. I adore my hazy morning moments far more than my restless getting-to-bed moments. This choice comes down to the time of day. I’d rather be bothered at night than the morning.