everything that's wrong and all the problems that there are
an exhaustive list
Too many problems
My lungs aren’t big enough so I can’t explore undersea caves for treasure and shells.
It’s not fun to go to the beach like it used to be because you get too hot too fast.
Woke
The circus came to town. But there’s no elephants or trapeze artists. There’s no jugglers or contortionists. Nobody’s swallowing swords or taming lions. Heck, there’s no ringleader at all. Instead it’s all clowns. And the circus doesn’t even have a good name like Big Apple or Ringling Bros, like a circus should. Instead they’re calling it, Washington DC.
They went back through the old cartoons and made Speed Racer slower.
Snakes are out there biting people, in some cases in the neck.
Global conflict.
Anal training takes forever.
Crows are too smart and it’s a matter of time before they figure out crude bows and arrows.
There are too many names for spaghetti, but they’re all just spaghetti.
Sometimes when you’re meeting someone, a handshake is kind of like, long and horny, like it really lingers, but then what are you supposed to do with that.
Babies are too young.
It’s too hard to convince every single man not to press the burgers with the spatula, because it squeezes the juices out. But if you don’t try, it’s just dry burgers.
They haven’t made a good Xbox in two Xboxes
No one makes a brownie that tastes like a weed brownie but has no weed in it. And I don’t do drugs anymore, but I liked how weed brownies taste.
Sin.
There used to be a lot more websites where you could jack off in little outfits. But now there’s really just the one.
Doing finger guns has been ruined by constant mass shootings.
People don’t do things to impress Jodie Foster anymore.
Life is yearning and yearning is pain and nothing can fill the void for long before the void reclaims you.
People keep becoming energy healers.
No matter how you jump and dance etcetera.
It’s too hard for regular people to sing Dreams by the Cranberries.
Wearing a stunning outfit and having sex at the same time is really hard and complicated. But it should be the main way to have sex.
We don’t know what’s at the bottom of the ocean. And there could be incredible local restaurants there, or treasure.
I’m tired.
Europe isn’t exporting chart topping pop groups anymore. I should be able to walk into any Chuck E Cheese in the country and hear a song by four Aryans and forget it immediately when it’s over.
Some days you just don’t got it.
The Rolling Stones are still around. They should be dead.
An angel with a flaming sword still guards the gates of Eden and we should be able to go there and eat more of those famous apples.
There are plenty of covers of Black Hole Sun but none of them are THAT good.
Same thing about The Rolling Stones but with the Muppets. Get em out of here. They’ve had their time in the sun.
There are too many tectonic plates. One’s gotta go.
The whole infrastructure of heterosexual capitalism hinges on people having babies and our whole society is geared around backfilling social and ideological justifications and pressures to get people to keep adding baby downlines to a pyramid scheme that’s failing in real time and cooking the planet, but if you don’t participate your parents have no idea what to talk to you about.
Conversion therapy isn’t fun or horny when it obviously can and should be.
Bees should be bigger so we consider them equals, and so we can bonk em away with bats and empty bottles.
Venom and poison are two different things. There only needs to be one.
The good kind of cherry in a jar is different than the main kind of cherry in a jar you get. And they just think we won’t notice.
They got all those guys tied to the trolley tracks.
Medicine is fuckin fake.
There isn’t a store or building you can go to to open up your torso and beat your organs with one of those big wicker rug beaters or a pizza paddle or kayak oar, just really beat all the dust and bugs out of your organs and then spritz em with rosewater, and close you back up. And there should be a store or building for that.
Intolerance.