Apoplectic Avian

By Dom Sinacola · Nov 26, 2013

As we’re sure you’re aware, typically Sanguine Celebrator, the holidays are here yet again, but if you have any reasonable bones in your body—let alone in the carcass you have featured prominently on your dining room table—you know that this particular holiday champions the worst tendencies of the human endeavor. We, of course, are referring to a day intended for Appreciation, but instead carried out under the self-absorbed auspices of gluttony, intoxication, and the cheering on of brain-damaged, over-paid sub-humans with rage issues as they run up and down an environmental travesty (comparable only to a golf course in that sense) for a grand total of about three full minutes. These conditions would be enough to set any reveler’s Id aflame, yet the day itself is but one small portion of the season’s hellish fervor. The real trial of your devotion to spending an inordinate amount of time with family members is the long trip to get there, to wherever you left in earnest all those years ago, and the corresponding travails of travel. Nominally, this means flight: the swiftest and most expensive way to have a brain aneurysm.

Here at Missed Manners we know all too well the stress that accompanies airports and the vehicles housed therein, so we’d like to provide you, Weary Worldnik, with a series of replies to encourage fellow air travelers to leave you alone, and allow you to proceed unscathed to the end of your journey.

Where am I going? Well…

  • I just gave the keynote speech at FartCon 2013. It’s a convention. For farts. I’m very successful in my field.
  • I’m on a mission to eat at all of the Taco Bells in the continental United States. I’m almost done. My stomach’s pretty much a festering, open wound at this point.
  • I’ve got a load or two of laundry to do, so I’m heading back to my parents’ place.
  • Where do babies come from? ‘Cuz there.
  • I’ve heard of this new thing called a “shower”? So there.
  • I’m not entirely sure? But considering the amount of hallucinogens I’m on right now, I’m just glad I’m wearing both shoes.
  • …where are you going?
  • You see this list of names entitled “People I’m Getting Paid To Kill”? You see how all but one of the names are crossed out? I’m going to where that last one lives.
  • I’m going to the only place on earth where it’s legal to have a penis grafted onto your existing penis.
  • I left my newborn infant in a car in Atlanta with all the windows rolled up, so I’m going to go crack one of the windows a bit.
  • I have a bad case of SARS and a real serious chip on my shoulder.
  • I’m taking the shortcut, but I’ve heard the scenic route is gorgeous: just up your butt and around the corner.
  • Here, take a look at this pamphlet entitled “Worldwide Illicit Sex Adventure.” It’s got everything you need. Looks fun, right?
  • …do you know a better place to buy 75 pounds of zebra meat?
  • Shit, I’m actually flying this thing. Whoops. Better make my way up to the cockpit.
  • Nowhere. I just like to take big dumps on airplanes.
  • Wherever they let me when I’m losing this much blood.
  • Nowhere. I just like to jerk off on an airplane with a thin complimentary blanket the only thing between me and God.
  • Wherever they let since I’m covered in this much semen.
  • Nowhere. I don’t plan to live through this flight.
  • It’s this absolutely beautiful little Mediterranean resort town called “None of Your Fucking Business.”
  • Jurassic Park.
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