>>> Against Your Will
By staff writer John Marcher

July 2, 2007

It's been a long week my friends. But I am back and better than ever. Kinda. I mean I was technically dead for a short period last week, so I’m trying to look at this like a whole new life. My old one is over—no more work, bills, responsibilities or any other inane bullshit. I am on to bigger and better things, like morphine.

That said, I can't really say for sure if things are better than ever because I'm only six days old at this point. But boy, I am waaaaaay ahead of the game this time. Last lifetime, when I was six days old I wasn't doin’ shit. I am making BIG MOVES over here people. Big moves. Unfortunately, I am on a computer that runs an operating system known as Vista, so I am banging out this column in an email to Court and letting him deal with its quality/length/grammatical correctness. That's right, the new Marine is reckless. Not's to be fucked with. A goddamn bandito.

“Catheters are the devil’s handiwork. Who the fuck came up with the idea to cram a tube down your penis?”

You get a lot of balloons in the hospital, and I often wonder why that is. What is it about a balloon or a stuffed animal or flowers that are supposed to make you feel better? I think we should make minor changes to these practices as follows: fill the balloons with nitrous; give actual pygmy bears, elephants, and platypi (I have ALWAYS wanted to say platypi); and only bring plants that are drugs, such as marijuana, peyote, khat, and poppy. Then, my friends, we would be getting somewhere. I don't want to sound unappreciative for all the kind gestures people have made coming by my room with useless shit, but damn man, what I really need are some psychedelics and a pygmy panda!

Hospital food is terrible. I don't even know where in the hell they get this shit. I feel like they go through more time, effort and money trying to figure out how to make the shittiest fucking food possible than they would paying someone to walk to Panera to get me lunch. In fact I’m sure of it. I was served a meal of ice cream, pudding, grape juice, a Popsicle, and tea every day for lunch, five days in a row. I’m in a place infused with more doctors and other health and nutrition experts than anywhere else, and this is the best they can come up with? Not to jump on the whole Michael Moore bandwagon, but steps need to be taken to remedy this situation. This shit is just not cutting it my friends.

Catheters are the devil’s handiwork. Who the fuck came up with the idea to cram a tube down your penis/vagina into your bladder so you pee directly into a bag? I'll tell you who, someone who didn't have fucking genitalia or plans to procreate on this earth.

I'll leave you with this final token. I have always been told my semen tastes good. I know this probably sounds ridiculous, and I tend to agree, but I have had endorsements across the board from a wide spectrum of subjects who have, for the most part, all commented on its palatability. I have been told it's because I eat a lot of chocolate, but who the fuck really knows, or cares. I sure don't have to deal with that shit that's for sure.

Anyway, shortly after getting out of surgery I was lucky enough to procure some head. I won't walk you through the incredible experience that is being in excruciating pain while cumming, but I will tell you I am getting closer to giving this bondage shit a go. Anyway, after I came the girl spat it out and told me it tasted like 3-day-old fat-free ranch. The feeling of cumming while in pain was shortly eclipsed by the overwhelming experience of laughing my ass off while jostling my recently sawed-through sternum for a solid ten minutes. Whoda thunk?!?!