If you could feel it (you’re welcome to touch it anytime you want), it would feel like a frozen pea attached to my spine just under the skin.
It started out bigger. When it was first discovered, it felt like a frozen grape attached to my spine just under my skin. Or so I’ve been told. The truth is that it’s been strategerically* placed in a spot where I can’t reach it no matter how I contort myself. At least Dick Cheney was clever enough to know that I would surely remove it if I could reach it, even though his attempts and mind manipulation have failed miserably.
I’m onto you, Dick Cheney. You can’t control my mind, you Czar of Darkness.
At first I thought it was an Alien Implant. For all I know it could be an Alien Implant. It may very well be that Dick Cheney is in league not only with the Forces of Evil in the United States of America and the rest of the Planet Earth, but he could be in League with the Forces of Evil of the Entire Universe. Or it may be that it’s really an Alien Implant pretending to be a Dick Cheney Implant, but that doesn’t ring true to me. I have no evidence, but I figure that if it’s an Alien Implant, then it would be of an Intelligence far greater than that on the Planet Earth and would therefore know that to assume the voice of a Dick Cheney Implant would be counter-productive.
I mean, anyone who knows me would know that the first time the Dick Cheney Implant told me to run a red light for the sanctity of the Republic or to tell the cashier how much I enjoyed her cleavage because it would be good for the economy, that I would tell the Dick Cheney Implant to Kiss My Progressive Ass.
So anything the Dick Cheney Implant tells me to do, I do the opposite. An Alien with an Intelligence far greater than our own would know that and would present itself to me as a, say, Salma Hayek Implant, or a Jodie Foster Implant. Or even a Teri Hatcher Implant because, you know, I’m easy that way. Or it could have said that it was a Jack Bauer Implant and then I sure as hell would have done everything it said because Jack Bauer is a bad-ass and I don’t want to be at the wrong end of his prodigious head-butt. Or spine-butt as the case may be.
I digress. It’s hard to concentrate with Dick Cheney yelling into your spine, and he’s really pissed that I’m going public with this. In fact, this is my third attempt to blog this because “somehow” my Internet Tubes are being clogged with dangerous materials like yellowcake uranium and germanchocolatecake plutonium and belgiumwaffle indigium, so every once in a while I have to turn my computer upside down and shake it really hard, and sometimes the words I’ve written get all jumbled up and I have to start over.I’m not unfamiliar with voices in my head, and I can separate the real ones from the imaginary ones.
But I digress. I was saying that I know it really is a Bona Fide Dick Cheney Implant is because only Dick Cheney would have the ego to want to take the credit for being clever enough to get an implant on my spine without my knowing it. That’s Dick Cheney for you.
But you don’t have to worry about me. He’s tried the reverse psychology thing. He tried to get me to stand up in the middle of the Tuesday staff meeting and try and get everyone to sing along with “You Are My Sunshine” by telling me NOT to do it. So in that case, I did exactly what he said. So now everytime the Dick Cheney implant tells me to do something, I think to myself “What Would Walt Whitman Do?” and so I usually get too confused to do anything at all. So even with Dick Cheney riding shotgun, I’m not dangerous, just ineffective. And I was ineffective in just about everything I do before the Dick Cheney Implant, so nothing’s really different except for the constant nagging and occasional screaming. I don’t mind that so much, but when he turns on the Civil Defense Sirens, I get a headache and have to lay down for a while. And I did that a lot before the Dick Cheney Implant, too.
But I’m not here to complain, but just to share my story in case someone else out there has an implant that tries to manipulate his or her thought processes, for whom I offer this advice: “Ignore the Voices in Your Head.” Chances are, they’re up to no good. And if you do have an implant, please e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’d love to hear your story. We can start a support group.
But if you have voices yelling at you but no implant, you’re just crazy and should leave me the hell alone. Seriously. Leave me alone.
Posted by /0/ on August 28, 2008 10:53 PM | Permalink