Time Magazine

As a connoisseur of magazines and dee-voe-tay of the genre, or "jondra" as Dennis Ousley calls it, Time Magazine has to be the closest pile of shit this side of a Mexican Revolutionary publication that there is. How it sells even one issue a week is a mystery I will never live long enough to solve, no matter how long I live. My wife subscribes to it. For some reason. She is a diehard collectivist. She thinks it's great, collectivism. She thinks that there would be total chaos if someone wasn't telling everyone what to do. As long as the someone telling everyone what to do isn't me, of course. That, I guess, would create even more chaos. If there is a fucked-up situation that can be created by fiat, Time Magazine is all for it. In fact, Time Magazine is for a Niagrara Falls-level of constant legislation and fiats of any kind, as long as there is lots and lots of force and corercion involved. EXCEPT when that force and coercion is used against what, a Texan, say, would consider an enemy of America. The articles themselves are mind-numbingly brutal in their lack of compositional skills. If the writer has a shred of logical or observational competance he will not be signing his name to anything in Time Magazine. Weirdness and a resolute hatred for Jesus Christ is what qualifies the aspiring journalist-troglodyte that fits the bill of the Time Magazine staff-requirements for a chance at signing his name to a piece of Time Magazine anti-Christian "news." If it will hasten the demise of White America, and set hordes of illegal Mexicans and even worse hordes of legal Negroes loose through the streets to loot and burn, time Magazine will stay up nights trying to figure out a way to encourage it and to condemn and attempts to prevent it. Being in the time Magazine offices must be like being in a an unventilated male bathouse in a Sumatran jungle. The smell of warm fresh steamy jizz must embed every micron of cloth and every atom of air in the room. Penises must be outside zippers more than they are inside. The staff probably pisses in the sink just so the penises won't be withdrawn from view in a seperate room used just for pissing. Sperm is probably squirted into workmates' coffees just as a matter of course and tradition. You can probably contract Aids just by looking at one of the computer screens in the Time offices. Dead birds probably lie around the building perimeter, like dead canaries in a toxic coal mine; a warning to all in the vicinity that death is emanating from the walls, do not enter unless already contaminated with ass-clog in your pecker.