May 10, 2006

• Fred the Amoeba, Inventor of Goth

  Death is a funny thing. It’s like magic. We’re here. Then poof. We’re gone.
  
  
  
  
  Imagine what it was like for the first organism to experience death. The amoeba.
  He must’ve been like, “Oh shit! Oh shit! I’m… fading away! What the hell
  is this sensation!? Aaauughhh! Oh Amoeba God, make it stop!” And then, after a fierce protoplasmic
  death rattle, it’s gone. Poof. Magic.
  
  
  
  Maybe his amoeba buddies gave him a proper burial,
  dressed him up in a little black outfit and placed him in a tiny casket. Actually, no. They all must’ve
  been freaked out. It was the First Death Of Anything Ever. They were probably like, “Dude, what
  happened to Fred?” as they watched his lifeless single-cell body float off in the
  primordial ooze, nary a trace of the jubilance and zest for life he once displayed.
  
  
  
  Maybe they
  thought it was cool. Maybe they were like, “Wow. Check out Fred. He’s all frozen! That’s so
  weird! I want to be dead too! I want to be dead like Fred!” Fred probably started the whole Goth thing.
  In his wake, he inspired countless other single-cell organisms to be sullen depressives,
  moping around, wearing little amoeba boots with huge buckles on them, putting on too much mascara and singing Nine Inch Nails
  songs. So it’s all Fred’s fault.
  
  
  
  Or maybe I need to stop eating big meals and studying right before I go to bed so these crazy dreams don’t happen

  Save A Josh Foundation
  Amazon wish list of Save A Josh Fund approved materials located here

  -J
  

  • 12:17 pm
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