Killing babies should not be a choice or an option. I sincerely believe that fetuses are people. They have experiences, thoughts, memories, and souls. Basically, they are little miracles, you bastards.

Think about the U.S. Constitution for a minute. It guarantees all the people of this great country of ours civil liberty in our lives. It is not a civil liberty to suck a helpless baby into a vacuum to be discarded into a festering medical waste bin that will be eventually dumped into the jungles of Burma. A lot of insensitive liberals have suggested that butchering babies is simply part of women's rights, and being against abortion is being against a woman's right to "make choices".

Make choices? This is why Nuva Ring was invented. Try that instead of drunkenly copulating like you're Lindsay Lohan.

Assassinating unborn infants is not a civil liberty or a "right".

This is TheTheologiansCafe avatar. He is totally unrelated to this post.

Leave a comment, to let me know just how MAD you are.

As you know, some people have been arguing in favor of Cannibalism in recent weeks, so I would like to present my rebuttal right now and here, on Xanga.com, the most powerful blogging site in the world.

First of all, I would like to say that I rarely engage in Cannibalism, because I believe it is morally wrong. Second, I would like to say that morals come from a place in the human psyche which goes beyond our understanding of psyches in general. I mean, when scientists look at a brain, all they see is a ball of really thick pink noodles, and scratch their heads in wonder. Now, the brain contains the human psyche, but it also contains bizarre thoughts, such as holographic octopi, pizza-flavored soda, and morals.

Morals have a life of their own. They protect their life fiercely. So if someone tries to go against morals, they strike back. When a human being engages in Cannibalism, they eat people, and people contain brains, and brains contain morals, and the morals fear being eaten. Therefore, morals have made it immoral to eat humans to avoid the risk of being eaten themselves.

Morals also have a large fleet of highly-trained shrews, which can be released as a last-resort if morality is threatened. The shrews are trained to attack immorality, which they can detect by scent, and gnaw away at their victims with their razor-sharp teeth, and on some rare occasions, their razor-sharp wit. This leads me to my next point:

I am deeply afraid of shrews.

If you have ever seen a shrew, you understand. They are disgusting abominations that are a direct result of Adam and Eve's sin. They are like a molerat had sex with Andy Dick, and spawned a creature so hideous and foul that it makes even the most veteran army field doctors vomit in disgust.

I had a pie chart to show the statistics of these things, but my report was lost when my computer was thrown out of a window by a crazed roommate. And by a crazed roommate, I mean myself. I don't know why. Too much caffeine, probably. Anyhow, just imagine a chart that shows bars projecting the hideousness of shrews, and the sheer numbers of them.

This brings me to my next point: Eating another person will not endow you with their essence.

If this were true, then it would change professional sports forever. The greatest athletes would have small chunks of themselves cut off for vast sums of money, and those chunks would fed to up-and-coming rookie players to turn them into unstoppable, godless, soulless, scoring machines. However, this does not happen, and for a very good reason: it rarely works.

So, in conclusion, if you are stranded on a life raft with no food or water, or hope of finding land, please do not eat me. Just accept that you are going to die of starvation, and let that be that. Besides, I know for sure that I won't taste very good, and when you're in the middle of the ocean, there is no A1 sauce. Keep that in mind. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Get ready to poop your pants.

Well, it finally happened. The police found you in a hotel room handcuffed to the bed dressed in a cactus-mascot costume with the Lincoln memorial's stolen head in your car, which is also inside the hotel room somehow. There is no huge hole in the wall, the car is just in there somehow, and when questioned, you say you didn't remember anything after you crushed some stale candy corn and Advil and snorted it.

Then, out of the blue, a prosecution montage begins. The Jury saids up and says "We find the defendant guilty of being a dick." and the Judge pounds his gavel and says "I am going to make an example out of you, you piece of scum, you herpes-like growth on the lips of society, you sock-filled present in under the Christmas tree of order, you slimy fish on the pizza-topping list of our peaceful community. I hereby sentence you to eight million hours of community service, and thirty days in Dr. Drew's Celebrity Rehab, where an audience of millions of adoring fans will root for you as you go through an emotional journey to put your life and your career back together. Oh, you're not a celebrity? Well, sorry (No, I'm not) but you'll just have to go to regular rehab, which is in the basement of a gym where very large ladies who frequently fart out of their vaginas go to practice sexy dancing to burn off their flab and turn it into fab." Then he pounds his gavel again.

Well, you're not totally screwed.

Your first thought is that you will probably die being separated from your one true love, drugs. Your second thought is that there might be drugs in the afterlife, which comforts you. Your third thought is that you need to escape. Don't worry, that's where my expertise comes into play. You need a plan, however, you've eating magical mushrooms so your brain is unable to think normal thoughts.

"But wait," you say "I'm here because of alcohol, and because I slapped a hooker with a 'I'm  #1' giant finger while under the influence."

Well, that's okay too.

First, don't try and throw a chair through a window. If you jump through the window, you'll probably be cut, and they can just follow the trail of blood to where you're hiding, because you can't run for long while withdrawing from drugs. Just get that idea out of your head.

Second, don't be unruly and poop in the pee-cup. That will just cause the administrators to have you thrown in jail.

The solution to rehab to exploit it's greatest weakness: Their faith in their process, and the flimsy walls. What I'm saying is, you should cause no ripples, stay off the radar, and be friendly to everyone, but meanwhile in your room, you need gnaw through the wall. With your teeth. Be sure to cover the hole with furniture in-between sessions of intense gnashing as you chew through 2 feet of wood, fiberglass and drywall to freedom. If anyone asks why the furniture has been moved, just say you're OCD and all the furniture needs to be facing a certain direction and that it helps you stay calm.

Chewing through the wall takes a lot of time, so you need to be cool in the meantime. Wait until you're done detox-ing before starting the hole, otherwise, you'll puke too much, and the puke will harden into a crust that will impede your process. Also, go to all the meetings and pretend you're having all these breakthroughs and blame your drug usage on your parents.

Question: So, why do you think you have the compulsion to abuse drugs and alcohol?

Wrong: Because they're awesome.

Right: My father was abusive towards me at a young age.

As long as you blame everything on your parents and pretend to be having all these breakthroughs, then you'll be fine.

Once the hole is complete, just bolt. Make a mad dash to a close friend or relative's house where you can hide out until nobody cares anymore. Did you know that if the police don't find you within 72 hours, they stop looking? It's true. They consider the trail to be "cold".

Once that is done, FREEDOMMMMMMM!!!!!

Reposted from 2007, because this is one of my self-favorites of all-time! Enjoy!

Sayanora! Greeting from Japan!

Japan is sexy country with many wonderful qualities!

In Japan, we don't eat with fork! Fork cost five hundred dollar!!! That is wonderfully crazy price for eating utensil! We eat with chopstick and are home to world's greatest eater Takeru Kobayashi who is better eater than Joey Chestnut who has no honor.

FORK ARE STUPID AND BAD FOR EATING TSUNAKE!!!

This is island of Japan. Japan is country rich with tradition and cultures! In Japan, you no wear shoes in house or we cut your genitals off with ginzu knife. In Japan, to showing respect, you bow. The lower you bow, the more respect you show. If you bow so low that you split forehead on ground, you show a ton of honor!!!! ^_^_^

North Korea not sexy -_-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Japan is full of sex ^_^_^

Wonderful and strange sex o_O_o

Japan make more porn than America! O_o_O

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^

J-Rock and J-Pop music is better than any other music in the world our artists are sexy and make wonderful and super music that is good for the listening.

ADE CHAI!!! Sushi-go-round is most wonderful and mystical wonder of the world. Our Sumos are unstoppable. A Japan Sumo can stop an M-1 tank with his belly!!!!! O_O

GODZILLA!!!!!!!!!!! -_-_-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

This is going to be one of my last posts as AvenueToTheReal.

So, dear readers, I know some of you might be shocked by this news, and are sad, whereas others are overjoyed. Then there are other people who don't really care. Whichever category you fall into, you should know that I didn't come to this decision lightly or suddenly.

I've been considering retiring this blog for some time, but didn't really know the proper way to do so. Even though I posted very sparingly throughout last year, I decided very recently to deliver a few more low-quality humor posts before hanging up my shoes on the telephone wire. I guess you could consider this to be my encore performance, that is, if there were a stage or if I had an instrument. I guess really, my main instrument is love, because that just sounds deep.

This isn't my last post, though! I've got like five more, and then you'll finally be rid of me!

I guess I should also say that this isn't a hoax. Once *I* go to the bathroom, I'm not coming back out. I also personally wish that someone would make a like a food tube that goes to the bathroom so that you would never have to leave. I also wish that someone would invent a machine that converts nuclear waste into cheese, but that's not important right now. What's important is that I'm not pretending to have cancer.

The reason for my decision has several reasons:

1. I need to free up as much time as possible to practice doodling unicorns.

2. I left the shower on and I need to go turn it off.

3. I need to find a new job after being fired for sneaking into the men's bathroom to poop in the stalls.

4. I am retiring from politics to spend more time with my family.

5. To pursue my modeling career.

6. To protest China's occupation of Tibet. Cut it out, you guys.

7. The Zombie Apocalypse is about to occur and I need to flee my home.

Darn it! You've made this really hard by telling me that you like my writing and calling me your favorite blogger. Actually, 99.9% of the people on Xanga have been really amazing and awesome, and because of everyone, it made me believe in magic again. You didn't make me any less eccentric, but that's okay, you made me see that being different actually is good. I was able to learn a lot about life, people and other classified stuff from you all.

To the 0.01% of people who cut themselves and cry like little emo babies every time I post, I posted a picture of a sandwich, and it still got more comments than what you get in a week, which, once again, makes me the biggest winner of all. Also, your poetry sucks and you all are terrible writers. If you think you're a  great writer, then I have news for you: You have to be dead to be a great writer, or at least, be as good as dead because you live in a cabin where you have no contact with the outside world and refuse to let anyone turn your novel into a movie. I doubt you even own a cabin.

---

I'll cover the rest of my thoughts on this in my final post, which will be posted sometime next week, and it's going to be a doozy! It's going to be a long post, so it might be time to bust out the reading glasses and/or 3-D glasses, because it will available in 3-D!

Hey Xanga, how are you? I've decided to squander all the good will that I've received by being a whore once again. This time though, it's not for myself.

This is Karina:  (aka PervyPenguin)

She has entered in a web design contest for an opportunity to win a college scholarship worth 15,000 US dollars, but needs a lot of votes in order to have a shot at winning!

This does not require you to spend any money.

You can find her design entry here: Link

I humbly ask that you sign up and VOTE ONCE PER DAY on her project, possibly placing a sticky note on your computer monitor to remind you to do so.

You could really change someone's life by doing this, and I believe there's enough Xanga-power to do this!

Please recommend this post. I will be very grateful if you do.

Despite having been away from Xanga for a long while, I've come back and have just been dumbfounded by the amount of encouraging and positive comments about my last few posts, as well as a ridiculous number of recommends.

I honestly don't know what I did to deserve so much adoration, but I have to say that I'm very, very humbled and thankful for everyone who has recommended my posts and left funny comments. They're very fun to read and I've tried to keep up with them all despite my computer's slowness.

I'd also like to thank all the Conservative and Republican Xangans who follow me as friends and subscribers who put up with all my nonsense. I actually think Conservatism is a significant part of what makes America great, even if I don't always agree.

So, thank you so much, I really appreciate everyone, and you've made coming back on Xanga very fun.

Dearest British Petroleum,

Yo.

Let me be the first to say this: accidents happen. Even when you're an adult, they happen. I've tried not to have accidents, but sometimes I just get really very thirsty before my nightly 14 hours of rest. Anyhow, regardless of that, I noticed you happened to have one tiny minuscule incident that resulted in a touch of spillage. So, I guess our evil tyrannical totalitarian despot, a one Mr. Barack Hussein Mohammed Aladdin Obama, has this skewed view of the world, and asserts steadfastly that if a couple of pelicans are getting dirty, that an apocalyptic tragedy has occurred. What a maroon, am I right? Now he wants to forcefully embezzle 500,000,000,000 dollars from your honest, upright, benevolent and hard-working company, then behead your children, rape your wives, and crucify you. On a cross. With real nails. It's not like those crucifixion re-enactments where the actor portraying Jesus Christ is tied to the cross, or in some cases, duct taped.

Therefore, I say on behalf of all my Republican colleagues, as well as the great state of Texas, hereby do humbly apologize to you and your company, your employees. I hope you can find it in your gracious hearts to forgive us and Mr. Obama for his overly-harsh words that have discouraged you from living a happy Christian, god-fearing life by filling your days with grief. I beg of you to have mercy on me. My conscience cannot have this totally unjust and malicious persecution of your blameless and frankly, pretty darn cool corporation on my hands. Again, I humbly apologize to you, BP and beseech you to recognize that my penitence is genuine. God bless you, BP. I salute you for your brave fight.

- The Republicans

This post might not be appropriate for ALL audiences.

A lot of people have been telling me that they thought I was dead. I am pleased to inform you that these rumours are absolutely true.

I mean false.

What really happened is pretty complicated. One morning, I opened the newspaper to look for jobs and then I said to myself "What am I? 50?" and then decided to look on the computer for a job. So I got on my trusty computer, and double-clicked on The Internet and went to Google.com, and instinctively typed in "porn please" but then remembered that I was hunting for a job, so I went to a job search site. I saw this one where you had to buy groceries for old people, but then I learned that I wasn't allowed to eat the groceries, and I had to buy what they wanted, so I decided I would pass. Then I saw one that said "Executive position available, pays 500k+ per year, huge benefits" and I was like "ooooh." so I clicked that and called the number. The secretary that took my call asked why I called. I said I wanted the job please. She asked my name. I told her. She asked if I was Hispanic. I said no, but I get that a lot. She asked if I had a college degree. I said I could print one up pretty easily. She hung up.

Then I saw a job that said "Assassin wanted. 50,000 for one job, no questions asked." and I considered myself to be qualified because I did stand-up comedy one time and I killed. OOHHHHHH PUN JOKE. So I met my potential employers in a dark parking garage. They handed me a photo of some random-ass white guy and said he needed to be "eliminated". I was like "Okay, sure." Then they just stood there and there was an awkward silence, and I was trying to think of something to say, so I just blurted out "How about that weather, huh? It's been hot."

"Don't you want to see the money?" They asked, ignoring my question.

"Oh, yeah. Show me the money!" I said, doing my best Cuba Gooding Jr. impression, which actually sounds nothing like him.

They opened a suitcase, and it contained one dollar. I took it and said thank you. There was another awkward silence. They asked if this was my first time doing this. I wanted the job, so I fudged a little and said I killed people all the time, even though, in reality, I rarely killed people.

Later on, I was at the cybercafe (Which is not a place where people come to have cyber-sex, which I learned the hard way) and talking to random people and telling them about my new job. Well, some high-and-mighty goody-two-shoes lady with a super-annoying overbite told me that it was wrong to kill people for money. I almost didn't hear her, because I kept staring at the overbite and it was really super-distracting, but I decided not to kill that random-ass white guy.

However, I had taken a one-dollar advance from the Yakuza, and they were not pleased that I had taken their money and not fulfilled my duty (snicker)(snort).

So I had to go into hiding for months until I could get reconstructive surgery to change my face, and I also got a ton of collagen put into my bottom lip, so that when I pout, it will be super-huge. I also got electrodes put my breasts so they will shock people who touch them, sort of as a funny prank which I find hilarious. I also took some of the flesh on my arms and put it on my back, and vice-versa; don't ask me why, I don't know. I also replaced my nose with Heidi Montag's old nose. Finally, I got a tattoo in Chinese, and I don't know what it says, but I think it was something like "Beautiful flying swan in the night sky" but the tattoo guys were murmuring in a corner and snickering a lot, so I don't know...

Imagine this: you come home at night after a long day of reticulating splines, when you open the door and find out your entire apartment is filled with cake frosting. I mean filled to the roof, so when the door opens, there is simply a wall of cake frosting.

Imagine you purchase a golden retriever, only to learn that it is incapable of participating in human sports, such as soccer. You fall to your knees in utter despair, as your soul goes to a dark gay closet of depression. "WHY GOD, WHY?" you yell, shaking a fist at the infinity of the cosmos, because Air Bud was a absolute lie, and your peewee soccer team is going to have to bring home fake plastic silver trophies instead of fake plastic gold trophies, and that makes me a very sad panda.

Imagine you're doodling a unicorn, but you make it's eyes super-huge and so cute that you can't stop staring at the cuteness and fall into a coma and wake up in the year 2044 and find out there still aren't flying cars yet. Then you fall to your knees in front of the ruins of the Statue of Liberty and yell "NO!!!!"

These are the sorts of everyday adverse situations that the average Xangan goes through. Plus, no one can get laid, and everyone else got raped. They always reveal their rape in vivid detail, and concludes quietly with their solemn resolution of forgiveness/hatred for their molester, and it's super-awkward for me and I'm like "Whoa! I need to go outside for a minute." and then I come back and insensitively, but not deliberately so, post "That is awful! I am sincerely sorry for the loss of your hymen." and then delete, delete, delete; wonder what the hell is wrong with me; repeat.

All of this causes Xangans to have a lot of Xanga-rage, or Xange, as it is known. This rage normally simmers in the cob-web-draped chasms of their psyche, only to unexpectedly manifest at a later time in the form of criminal acts/participation in children's television. But because of the advent of blogging, all this Xange can come out in a more positive manner that does not involve slashing the tires of my bicycle for no reason or dressing up as a giant purple mentally-retarded dinosaur that hugs little children way too much for me to feel comfortable with it. Unfortunately, these raging people cause Xanga Drama, or Xangrama, as it known. They will comment something like "You are ignorant." on a random post that explains how American kids should be required to pledge allegiance to Thor by law, and the shit catapults with be calibrated, directing their trajectory so that the fecal projectiles are intercepted by The Fan. And by that, I mean shit will hit the fan.

This is the kind of hot, hot action that you can't just seal in a zip-lock baggy, but it makes certain people cry. But let's face it, crybabies: you didn't have anything to blog about, so "all this drama" (which is perpetually occurring, so don't ask me "What drama!? GUH GUH GUH") gave you an opportunity to replace your usual mundane, uninspiring blah blah blog with your hilariously overly-idealistic teary plea for The Drama to stop.

Well, I have news for you: Preying Mantis females bite the heads off males after intercourse, and  - also - the drama will never stop.

You could just go ahead and leave Xanga fo' life and go to Facebook, but lo and behold, there will be Facebook drama. Then you go "Eff this!" and then decide to participate in Bird-Watching, then find out there is Bird-Watching drama, and you're all "WUT!!!!"

No matter where you go, there will be drama, especially if you work at a theater. You can do two things:

1. Cry about how it needs to end, and curl up in a corner weeping.

2. Grow a spine, and join the vertebrate family.

If you don't want to be part of the Xangrama, then I suggest you write a blog about it. Wait. I mean DON'T write a blog about it. Talk about your stuff. Talk about how funny your cat is, or how you're learning to play acoustic guitar, or how you're building a robot that masturbates, etc.

Now, I already know that approximately 0% of everyone will take my advice, but I just wanted to incorporate the phrase "masturbating robot" into a blog, and this seemed like a pretty good way to accomplish that. Plus, I say let the drama go down. Only, let me lay down some ground rules:

1. No "Your mom" insults.

2. LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE.

3. You're never wrong. Don't ever give up until everyone knows just how damn right you are. Do not leave your house or go to get food until you win.

4. Always get the last word. If the other person says "I choose not to participate in this childishness", then reply with "I guess I win then. You just couldn't come up with a retort for my inexplicable brilliance."

5. Always tell everyone you absolutely care 0% for the person you're arguing with, but spend 100% of your effort to defame them as hard as you can.

6. Funny pictures, please.

7. If possible, compose a freestyle rap to diss your opponent, and use racial slurs.

8. Ass.

9. Do not disrupt the fabric of reality, causing an implosion of the universe where the expansion of matter instantly regresses back into a singularity.

10. Use lots of expletives just to let everyone know how much righteous anger you have.

Now, go, let the drama commence!

p.s. - Air Bud isn't a true story, is it?