>>> Primal Urges
By staff writer Nathan DeGraaf

April 25, 2007

Steve: What's the column about this week?
Nathan:
I have no idea.
Steve:
When are you gonna write it?
Nathan:
I already did.

Nothing surprises me anymore. I mean, nowadays, a guy can take a bitch home and end up listening to her requests to be choked, to have a chili pepper shoved up her ass, and even to be taken to a Devil Ray's game. The world is chock full of weird and I've given up questioning it. I understand now, why senior citizens are the way they are. Maybe they haven't seen everything. But they've seen enough to know that they will never see everything. And oddly enough, at least as goes the resulting emotional state, that adds up to the same thing.

So, because I've been thinking about this long and hard for approximately five shots of whiskey and eleven beers, I have decided to release from the cage and unleash from the… er, leash I guess, the following list of things that would not surprise me in the slightest if they happened. I'm trying to meet my PIC List Quota (if I exceed it, I get a bonus of three Jaeger shots—who can pass that up?) and nothing screams “comedy” like “lists”—except of course for Donkey Porn, which is just priceless.

Here now, and possibly for a little longer, are six events that would not surprise me in the slightest, were they to happen in the next few years or so.

“Eventually I will meet a girl, probably one of the more stable members of her gender, who is not crazier than me.”

Gilbert Arenas Blogs Ron Artest's Next Arrest

For those of you who don't know, Gilbert Arenas is an accomplished basketball player (currently injured) and hilarious writer of hisNBA sponsored blog. Ron Artest is also an accomplished basketball player (currently healthy) and known criminal. Throw these two together in a room and the ESPN, NBA.com and Local Arrests will see a huge increase. And quite frankly, I would be less productive at work as a result. It's win and it's win and all that.

Britney Spears Does Something that I Give a Fuck About

Bitch has married some backup dancer, had a few kids, made some music, shaved her head and gotten fat, and I still don't care. I mean, she seems to be getting a shitload of press. One of these days, I'll have to care, right? I'm just playing the odds here. It seems likely that someone I hear about almost daily would eventually do something that I care about. Doesn't it?

I Write a Piece Without Profanity

I mean, it has to happen sooner or later, right?

A Woman Becomes President

I mean, it has to happen sooner or later, right?

I Meet a Guy Wearing a Camouflaged Baseball Cap Who has a Doctorate

In my life, as probably doesn't happen in yours, I meet a lot of people with both camouflaged baseball hats and doctorates. Oddly enough, these are never the same people. I figure, as the redneck movement expands, soon we will see more than just country fried comedy and watered down pop sold as country music; and, as a result, I'm pretty sure that soon I will meet a man in a camouflaged cap who has a doctorate. It will be a special day and I will commemorate it by shooting an animal and eating it. The way God intended.

I Meet a Sane Chick

The older I get, the more people tell me that this is impossible. But I have not given up hope. I think, that because I am such an unstable member of my gender, that eventually I will meet a girl, probably one of the more stable members of her gender, who is not crazier than me. We will make love and accidentally produce a left-handed boy with a good curveball.

Hey, a man can dream.

The fact of the matter is, ladies and gentlemen, nothing is impossible. With each passing day comes a pile of shit, some of which we've seen before, some of which we haven't. And, eventually, I think we'll all live in a word where Gilbert Arenas can scribe Ron Artest's battle against Ron Artest, where Britney Spears will do something that I care about, where a woman can be president, where I can write a piece without profanity, and where I can meet and mate with a sane chick. I have no proof to back this up, and yet I have no doubt that it could happen.

The world is that strange.

Gotta love it, eh?


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