There’s this nasty rumor floating around out there in the ether that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. That’s just nasty. I don’t know where everybody came up with that nastiness.

Sure, breakfast is good. You know, cereal and waffles and eggy mcmuffs and shit. I’m not trying to say that breakfast isn’t good. If that’s what you think I’m saying then you need to fucking chill, guy. Like back the fuck up. You need to quit putting words in my mouth or I’ll put my boot in your ass. It’s the american way. Come at me bro. Come fucking at me. All I said was that it’s not the best. But it’s good.

I don’t even know how you would measure the amount of importance between breakfast, lunch, and din din. They’re all so unique and important in their own individual ways. It’s like apples and ba-nay-nays, kid. They’ve all got their own thing going. I mean, lunch has it GOIIIIIN ON. Sandwiches. Soups. Salads backstrokin’ in chunky bleu cheese. Dinner has spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce and some garlic bread. Maybe some Parm Cheese sprinkled ever so delicately. I’m talking a soft kiss of Parm Cheese like the touch of a woman. Shit’s out of control. Double O C. I’d like to see someone try to say that they don’t like sandwiches or spaghetti and meatballs with marinara sauce and some garlic bread with a straight face. Fat chance. As if. What to the ever. Pinch me cuz I must be dreaming. Never gonna happen. Not in my house.

Seems to me that everybody out there is making these wild claims about how important breakfast is meanwhile they have no empirical evidence to back up their statement. Hello, it’s the fucking scientific era. We’ve got a whole theory about how science works and how we can decide if things are important. It’s a strict set of principles to prevent a bunch of screwheads from making nasty claims like the one in question. See, there’s something about a hypothesis that you have to test. And then you observe what happens and then you’ve got yourself a theory. And theories are great. There’s a bunch of really good ones. There’s one about relativity. There’s one about monkeys turning into people and shit. And once a theory becomes important enough, the head scientist declares it a scientific law. He calls all his scientific friends over to his laboratory and everybody wears lab coats and they play with each other’s sphincters and have a gay old time. And that’s the best. Seriously. It don’t get much better than that. But as far as I can tell, this whole thing about breakfast has not gone through this process. Where’s the evidence? Where’s the proof? Gimme some thing I can see. Gimme something to talk about. Gimme some lovin’. Gimme one reason to stay here.

I feel like what maybe happened was somebody got all pissed off at lunch and in a fit of emotional, irrational thinking declared breakfast the most important, just to get under lunch’s skin. Now, I don’t know about you, but that seems a little childish. Last time I checked, we’re not in middle school any more so leave your fucking bullshit drama at the door. Seriously. Take off that faggy Eastbay backpack, unzip the front pocket, slowly remove your bullshit drama, then kindly eat a whopper size portion of cock. Cuz we don’t need that shit. Sure, lunch can be a taffy-pulling cunt from time to time. I’ll admit that sometimes I get the urge to go get lunch, hack it up into little pieces, and feed it to the stray cats that live in the cardboard boxes behind the Best Buy. But that’s only because I don’t have the patience for lunch’s ‘tude and I’m a felinophile. Is that a crime? Not if I don’t get caught. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, yeah, me and lunch bump heads sometimes but you don’t see me dragging breakfast into the matter with some vile slanderizin’.

I suppose that it is also possible that whoever started the rumor just made a premature judgement. Since breakfast is first and all, I bet he was like “Holy cow, these Honey Bunches of Oates are fucking delicious. Breakfast is important.” Except he never really gave lunch and dinner a fair crack at it. He just went ahead and blew his “important” load early at like 7:30 in the morning like a horny schoolboy who is now gonna be late for class. I’m a firm believer that whenever you are trying to decide on something as important as being important, everybody in question should get a fair chance to state their case. That seems like the least you could do. Innocent ’til proven guilty, ya jackweed.

Maybe that’s just the democratic side of me. It’s my red, white, and blue showing. And let me tell you one more thing, those colors, the red, white, and blue ones that I was just talking about, they don’t run. I’m as American as they come. Shit girl, I got a gun in my backpack right now. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll show it to you. Maybe I’ll even let you hold it. You’d like that wouldn’t you? That cold steel between your fingers? The power to just shoot anybody in the nads that you wanted? Right in the nads. That’s what being a god feels like.

You know how people say guns don’t kill people? That’s not true. They kill people all the time. I’ve killed like nine people with my gun. Not like little kids or anything, I’m not some sort of weirdo. They were elder folks on the verge of dying anyway. I could sense death was upon them. Looming like a dark aura. And those cats behind Best Buy told me it was the right thing to do, so I went ahead and put those old fuckers out of their misery. You should have seen them, pushing around shopping carts, reading the label on the can of peaches, being fucking old.  They had it coming and I don’t regret it for a second. In fact, I should be praised for my humanitarianism. I should be given a trophy by the mayor or a root beer float party or something. Or at the very least say something about it in the newspaper.

You know that’s the problem with the news these days. Their priorities are all fucked up. It’s like…Elian Gonzalez? Who gives a shit? Everyday with the Elian Gonzalez stories. I’m so sick of hearing about him. I get it, he floated over in an old tire and watched his mom get eaten by sharks, let’s move on. Take the kid to Disney World, get his picture taken on Splash Mountain, maybe get him one of those turkey legs in Frontier Land, go watch the animatronic bear jamboree, and let’s talk about something that really
matters. LIKE GLOBAL WARMING. It’s hot as shit outside and nobody is saying anything about it. It’s April and it’s 85 degrees and I’m sweating my dick off. Literally. Sweating. My. Dick. Slap. Off. I got no dick now.

How am I supposed to procreate? I’ve always dreamed of starting a family but that dream is squandered. SQUANDERED. Now if I want to start a family, I’m going to have to adopt and that shit sucks. There’s a reason that those kids real parents didn’t want them. Probably because their heads were too big or they’ve got two left hands. I don’t want one of those orphan babies, I want a normal baby. One from my now non-existent penis.

I guess I could always just steal a baby from the hospital or something. I’m not sure how strict their security is. I bet they have video cameras at least. So I’ll have to wear like a mask or a bandana. I think the key to stealing a baby from the hospital is all about confidence. If you just pretend like you’re the legit and play it cool, nobody is going to fuck with you and you can just stroll right on out with your own little bundle of joy. By the time anybody notices that baby is gone, you’ll be a third of the way to Costa Rica in an all white, linen suit. Like Panama Jack. Except Costa Rica. Costa Rica Jack.

See, in Costa Rica nobody gives a fuck. They don’t have police or rules or indoor pluming ormoney. It’s just like a bunch of chill ass fuckers chilling out like a motherfucker. And when I say “chill ass fuckers” I don’t mean they fuck asses. Sure, some of them probably have. I’d be willing to bet that there are a handful that fooled around in the anal department but I doubt they’re all into that. I’d have to see some statistical evidence before I jumped to that conclusion. Some cold hard evidence. And that’s what I’m getting at people. E-vi-dence.

See, we’ve got a whole scientific process we have to go through before we can declare an entire sovereign nation a bunch of ass fuckers. It’s a strict set of principles to prevent a bunch of screwheads from making nasty claims like the one in question. See, there’s something about a hypothesis that you have to test. And then you observe what happens and then you’ve got yourself a theory. And theories are great. There’s a bunch of really good ones. There’s one about relativity. There’s one about monkeys turning into people and shit. And once a theory becomes best enough, the head scientist declares it a scientific law. He calls all his scientific friends over to his laboratory and play with each other’s sphincters and everybody wears lab coats and they have a gay old time. And that’s the best. Seriously. It don’t get much better than that. But as far as I can tell, this whole thing about breakfast has not gone through this process. That’s all I’m saying.