To be perfectly clear, I did not write this piece. It’s just so funny I had to post it.  It was written – for Wit Magazine —  by the very funny Livia Scott – www.Livia-Land.com – under the nomme de plume Cynthia Falconcrest. I apologize in advance for any typos. Even as funny as the article is, there’s only so much of my attention I can endure being Kardashed.

 

ENJOY!

 

The Truth About the Kardashians  ~ by Cynthia Falconcrest

Yesterday was my birthday. I had planned on spending an intimate evening at home with my assistant, Ricardo, and my favorite DVD treat, Ben Hur, while my Chinaman, Ming, Kept my glass refilled with sloe gin fizz.

My plans, however, were ABORTED, when the television froze on the  E! Network. The channel wouldn’t change, and as I shouted at Ming to unplug the TV, he electrocuted himself from the having gin fizz on his hands and died within five seconds. Then Ricardo screamed and ran out. I chased after him, catching my foot and twisting my ankle inside the mouth of my panther-skin rug, and tell facing the television to a state of complete paralysis,  forced to watch a marathon of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

 

Well, HAPPY F***ING BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!

I lay there for 12 hours, powerless to stop watching these parasites of humanity, these blithering retards, these insipid, vapid, asinine dipshits coo about the most BORING topics imaginable, and fantasized about how nice it would be to be waterboarded, or to find myself in a shark attack.

Mmmmm, so soothing.

For you see, dear reader, I’m sorry to say that I know the Kardashians socially, personally, intimately. They have paid me two million dollars a year for many years to keep my silence, but after enduring the horrifically traumatizing and DISGUSTING extravaganza of torture that is their “show’, I can no longer abide it. Because I know what they really are.

Let me enlighten you.

The Kardashians are actually 10,000 slugs living inside a human host — or, rather, six hosts, to be precise: Kim, Kris, Kourtney, the other one, the little sister who also has a K, and Karlee Kardashian, a paraplegic blind girl with Down Syndrome they keep in the basement because she’s “not great on camera”.

How did this happen? And why? How the hell should I know? I don’t WANT to know, but from what little I’ve picked up from the frightened whispers of assistants who’ve since “disappeared”, it’s the result of a pact Robert Kardashian made with Satan in exchange for representing O.J. Simpson.

“Being thousands of slugs instead of a human being has its benefits,” said Kris on night, as I happened upon her in the powder room at The Ivy. She was putting one of the creatures back up her nose after it slipped out, and she told me all about herself.

“When you consist of thousands of tiny slugs,” she said, “you don’t have feelings.”

The other advantage is that the slugs are only able to imitate the most basic forms of human speech and language, making the people they live inside the perfect subjects for a reality show. “Even, like, the stupidest of people get what we’re about,” said Kris. “And we don’t have to live in the ground anymore. We can walk around, obsess about the letter K, pretend we’re people, and go shopping. It’s AMAAAAAZING.”

Kim has been the most successful of the slug people, confining her study of “being, like, a real girl” to watching Aladdin 5,863 times, and copying herself as Jasmine. It gives her a consistency that keeps her “on message”.

Now that you know, you can see it, can’t you? Particularly in her dull, dead, black eyes, as she turns to the camera with her one facial expression. There’s a slug living behind each retina, gleaming with a “special glow”. Kim has the best slugs, Kourtney whined. “Mine are just kinda… there.”

So now you know what I know. By the time read this, I will probably be dead. There are dark forces at work here that also involve Ryan Seacrest. Who you might as well know is the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan.

But if I’m murdered as a result of spilling the slugs, so to speak, I will at least be at peace, knowing that I never, EVER have to watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians ever again. It’s been “real”.

——-Cynthia

parable

There was this young man – he was, like, 13 – bare chested, kneeling on the ground bracing his hands against a massive tree trunk. His father, himself a bit tree-like, was standing over him. The boy gritted his teeth. He jerked violently at each lash of the belt his father’s powerful arm delivered to his back and shoulders. Welts were forming. And this last lash drew blood.

The boy’s mother, tearfully standing by, purported to intervene, but one look from the tree-man stopped her in her tracks.

“For I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven,” bellowed the father, and laid on ten more strokes.

When the boy was shaking under the muscle tension of bearing up, the father stopped. “Go to your room. Your mother will come to tell you when your punishment is over.” The boy complied, staggering a bit on his way back to the house.

Later, a knock on the boy’s bedroom door. His mother entered his room. It was a humble space, but well kept. The boy lay on the bed on his stomach reading a schoolbook. He rose when his mother approached and sat next to him. “I’m sorry, sweet one. I hate to see you put through such pain.”

Not wishing to cause his mother more grief that the witnessing of his ordeal regularly produced in her, he lied, “It’s okay, Mom. It didn’t hurt that much.” He flinched reflexively as she wrapped arms around him. “You know that when you do wrong you have to be punished. Discipline is love.”

“I know, Mom. Lessons. So I know how to become a good man. Like Father told me,” he answered. “But I don’t know why I’m being punished .”

Her face warmed with affection and lit with purpose. “Because you keep hitting your brother. That’s not the way civilized people handle their differences.”

Conundrum

Riddle me this:

You’re a good, honest, let’s say Christian, guy who tries to live a good life and take care of his family, right? Okay. So you’re in the woods hunting, to feed your wife and children. It gets dark. Something comes rushing out of the brambles and before you know what’s happening, you’re being attacked. By some animal with claws and teeth. With me, so far? Good. You manage to just barely fight the beast and send him scuttling off, leaving you with a nasty wound, but also, thankfully, your life.

You stumble home. You get patched up. Your kids have a super-exciting story to tell their friends. And one month later, you find  yourself waking up at dawn, naked, on someone’s back lawn, your mouth and hands dripping with blood.  Moreover, you’re left with no recollection of the night before, or how you got there. Because you’re a werewolf. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You didn’t ask for this. You exercised no volition to cause it to occur. You’re a good person, but you killed someone last night, and you might do so in the future if it takes you awhile to figure out what’s happened to you. And why wouldn’t it? Everybody knows werewolves don’t exist.  Are you totally screwed from here to Eternity?

You are now a killing machine. And, I mean, killing is a sin, right? Are you barred from Heaven? You didn’t ask to be a werewolf. You weren’t in control of whatever acts you committed while under the full moon’s influence. But you’ve killed people. You may again. Even if you take precautions when you’re having “your time of the month”, life is unpredictable. Any random event could screw up those precautions and leave you on the loose. Are you ineligible now for Heaven?
You’ve been an honest, conscientious churchgoing man until this, and perhaps still. But you’ve committed this mortal sin, see? If you feel it the noble thing to do — for the safety of others — to commit suicide, well, that’s a mortal sin, isn’t it? Getting someone else to agree to execute you puts their mortal soul in jeopardy, because that’s murder, so that’s out. And besides, you’ve already killed people. Can you go to church on your human days and ask to be saved? Or is there no salvation for a creature such as yourself now? Are you technically human anymore?

You’re whole life you followed the bible and tried to live the teachings you learned at home and in worship. And, again, you are a victim. You never said to yourself, “Hey, I think I’d really like to become a werewolf.” According the rules as I’ve been told and understand them, you are relegated to Hellfire and damnation for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

True or False?  Discuss.