So, I’m on this pain medication to help deal with my broken rib. I take them sparingly because, as I spelled out in the last entry, I was given a truly paltry number of pills compared to the huge amount of pain I’m in. I realize that this is ER protocol. You go there, get the x ray and they give you enough pills to get you to the point where you go to your regular doctor and they can better figure out a pain management plan based on their knowledge of your medical history and blah blah blah. The thing is, I’m a healthy, monogamous male without any particularly crippling hypochondria and as a result, like almost all other humans in this category, I haven’t been to the doctor in approaching a decade.

Women go to doctors and men don’t. I realize this is a generalization, but among my friends, family, acquaintances and peers, I find this to be pretty iron clad. I have a couple of male friends who go to the doctor and the reasons either stem from hypochondria/other mental health issues or the desire to get drugs prescribed to them for recreational use. I fit neither of these categories. My wife yells at me to go to the doctor, just like the moms of my kids’ friends yell at their husbands to go to the doctor, just like the doc at the minute clinic in the CVS told me that she yells at her brothers and husband to go to the doctor. You. You there, you’re either the kind of person that yells at a man to go to the doctor, or you’re the kind of person who gets yelled at by someone to go to the doctor. Or you’re incredibly lonely, or self absorbed, or a lesbian.

Women go to the doctor for pussy maintenance first and foremost, which is a laudable and important form of self preservation, but if they didn’t have those things, I doubt women would be going for checkups any more than men. Dick maintenance involves some soap and a washrag. There’s no mystery, no peeking inside, and if something’s wrong, it’s not gonna languish unnoticed. Dicks show pain by having green shit hanging off the end or a bunch of cigarette burn looking sores all over them. None of this is really very important, but it’s relevant to the fact that once I run out of these ten (now six!) pills, I’m pretty much done with pain management for the duration of this broken rib (unless I’ve got a faithful Doc of War out there reading this right now…holla atcher overlord if so).

So anyway, last night I’m laying in bed. I’ve taken a pill and, since I don’t usually fuck with that kind of medicine, it’s making me feel pretty goofy. As I start to drift off to sleep, I conceptualize what I think, at the time is gonna be the greatest blog entry for today:

I’m gonna start off by talking about how much I love grapes. I’ll mention that I love grapes and eat them all the time. I’ll suggest that I’m what we could call a ‘grapist.’ I’d then go on to mention how I put grapes on my cereal and that I’m a bit of a cereal grapist, and I also like to mix my grapes with dates and I’m a date/grapist as well. It would just go on and on like this. You get the idea. It’s exceedingly stupid, but last night as I was drifting to bed it was all my dumb, painkiller addled brain could do not to get up and take notes on this devastatingly cutting edge bit of wordplay. Somehow, I truly imagined that I’d be able to stretch this bit into a full-length entry and that, somehow, it would be funny. The delusion boggles the mind.

I guess that there are a few conclusions that we can come to based on this. Firstly, anyone who tells you that they feel like they need to be high or drunk or whatever to maximize their creativity is most likely deluded and definitely wrong. I’ve been creating things for a long time and I can say with certainty that the best things that come out of my head are most often produced in the morning, when I’m stone sober. There are a few exceptions to this, as there are with any ‘rules of creativity’ but generally, when I hear someone discuss how they need to be high or drunk or whatever in order to create, I think that either A) they don’t know themselves very well, B) They’re completely shortchanging their abilities or C) they suck ass at whatever they do. Another conclusion we could draw from my ill-conceived grapist bit is that the innocent whimsy of wordplay and the horror of rape, as disparate as they are, still combine to be fairly flaccid and lame, humor-wise. There was a lot of debate about rape jokes recently, in the wake of Daniel Tosh’s wildly unfunny bit about gangraping an audience member at one of his stand up gigs. Some people said “rape is never funny!” and other people said “We gotta be able to joke about whatever we want!” I get both sides of this argument, which is essentially ‘outraged college educated white people’ vs ‘outraged college educated white people’ and which I want no part of. I hate the entire argument. Yes, rape sucks. No, you can’t just tell stupid, unfunny jokes and holler about the suppression of freedom when people don’t like them. The solution, it seems, is to make sure that if you’re gonna joke about something like rape, that your joke is really fucking funny. Boom. Problem solved. My grapist ideas, however: not that funny. I don’t think they’re offensive, except in the way that every bad pun is offensive. It’s essentially a threadbare and dull premise that could only be funny in conjunction with some sort of cartoon, which I, for sure am not gonna waste my time drawing.

Finally, I came to the conclusion that I‘m gonna try eating grapes on cereal. I really like a fresh, crunchy, green grape and I think they can probably get in on the whole cereal deal without terribly damaging the roles that bananas and blueberries have carved out for themselves, right? Sure.

God. My ribs hurt.

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19 Responses to GRAAAAAAPE!!!!!

  1. Neil says:

    Being a grapist is (of course) disturbing, but when people liquify them and stick them in bottles, that’s some Dahmer shit.

  2. QueenBee says:

    I thought the grape thing was pretty funny. Also, your wife must be super hot and/or super good at blowjobs for you to be able to resist the legions of ladies who swarm you on tour. Also, I hope you get some more painkillers so you can drugged-uppedly think up some more awesome blog ideas (or at least ridiculous band names).

  3. josh says:

    Raisin your hand if you think grape puns are as funny as I do.

  4. Joe says:

    I was gonna prove you wrong, but I haven’t had a GP in a loooooooong time. Just specialists. My wife doesn’t go though cause she’s a super prude.

  5. B says:

    But but but but Mr. Kelly, Vonnegut always smelled like mustard gas and roses!!

  6. KKKanada's Most Wanted says:

    I’m gonna tie you to the radiator, and grape you.

    • What's that smell/Welcome 2 MYYY hell says:

      That grape passage had me plenty peeved at ya but then “college educated white folks” vis-a-vis same tickled my taint a bit

  7. fecund ditty / dandriano's cute waiter jealousy says:

    well,grape minds think alike

  8. What's that smell/Welcome 2 MYYY hell says:

    For a hot minute there I was confusing hypochondria with mitochondria – 9th grade biology holla – and I was all like “Oh goddamnit Beex” but turns out it was my bad

  9. What's that smell/Welcome 2 MYYY hell says:

    Knew it was Neil instantly but that sweet rolls pic has a real authenticity to the head shape lacking in the typical gay-ass macbook pro funhouse pic everyone should have outgrown in Q4 ’06

  10. Barry says:

    Hi queen bee my names kinda like brendan and i like chicks. so we can fuck if you want

    • QueenBee says:

      Sorry, friend, but it’d take a lot (i.e. Beex or, like, Eric from True Blood) for me to get a free pass from my fiance. There used to be all kinds of horny chicks commenting here, though…

  11. lil' lord cunt-y bunz says:

    Yall they’re offerin standalone salt n’ vinegar seasoning ya can sprinkle on whatever now. Boom that’s all you get; do the legwork. Just saw a forum post where someone claimed Sandra Bullock’s voice makes them envision cheese. It’s over – good game everyone

  12. Amanda says:

    I seriously fucked up one side of my rib cage a couple years ago by slipping my grandma’s super icy front step on my way out of her house and hit my ribs right on the little metal lip thing of the doorway.

    My other grandma, who is a retired nurse with chronic back problems (ie steady stream of pain killers), came over to check me out since I didn’t/don’t have insurance said it looked like I’d torn some cartilage but my bones seemed fine, maybe a crack at worst and gave me a handful of vicodin which got me through the worst couple days. Then gave me a tube of Biofreeze which is one of the more amazing things science has ever created in gel form and told me to alternate Aleve and ibuprofen by taking one of each every two hours then taking two of which ever one you’re on in the cycle before bed. Which worked pretty well if you are unable to procure more painkillers or for once you no longer hurt enough to need painkillers but it is still annoyingly painful.

  13. Lauren says:

    I hate Team Umizoomi. When you ask my kid what she wants for a snack she will only tell you she wants “pickles and cheese”, because of Mily. I much prefer ‘Max and Ruby’, despite the fact that ruby is a selfish-controlling-cunt and max can’t follow simple direction or compete a sentence and their parents abandoned them. It’s decent for a kids show.

  14. Lauren says:

    In reference to your rib, I personally would break the pain meds in half. Aleve didn’t do shit for my ‘ rib issue” (didn’t have money for dr/er so my dad gave me a bottle of rx strength aleve, it was a waste).

  15. Dave says:

    There is a bar in St. Louis called The Silver Ballroom. One of their special mixed drinks is something called the “Southside Grapist”. It is some kind of mixed purple drink. I have never ordered it but every time I see it listed, I chuckle to myself. I know I shouldn’t chuckle but I can’t help it.

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