Thursday, March 11, 2010

My Last Post

I take a break from my Hawaiian posts to tell you an important piece of news: I'll no longer be blogging here at soft nonsense. In fact, I probably won't be doing much of anything else. Mostly, I'll be lying around, completely motionless.

Why you ask?

Because I'll be dead soon.

"Why Softy, you're a young man in his prime!" you say. "Sure you could stand to drop a few pounds, but you're in good enough shape to not die quite yet!" some will say. "You have so much to live for!" others will add.

So true.

But that changes nothing for me.

I likely have but moments to tell you of my transgressions (and only have those few moments due to the fact that I'm halfway across the Pacific at the moment), so read intently and quickly, lest I cannot finish what I have begun.

I, Softy, have committed the ultimate offense. One so heinous, disrespectful, and plain dumb that I most certainly deserve what is guaranteed to be coming to me. I know that there will likely be no bargaining to be had. And though I know not whether death will come quickly or slowly, I can be assured: I shall suffer. Truly, I am only putting up this post to gain some small favor with the Great One coming to take me and to remind all those to come after me to not make the same mistake as I.

If you are reading this, then you likely have already survived the likely holocaust to come. Actually, I'm sure I'm one of the few that shall perish in the impending minutes, as no one in their right mind will have committed the same mistake that I have.

You see, yesterday was the 70th birthday of Chuck Norris, and I did nothing to commemorate it.

None of my usual ritualistic sacrifices of whole goats for the feast of the Chuck, nor prayer at the local shrine of Norris. I foolishly shaved my beard a few days ago (Chuck was the fourth Wiseman. He brought baby Jesus the gift of “beard”. Jesus wore it proudly to his dying day. The other Wisemen, jealous of Jesus’ obvious gift favoritism, used their combined influence to have Chuck omitted from the Bible. Shortly after all three died of roundhouse kick related deaths). For Walker's sake, I didn't even wear my proper attire of cowboy hat, overlarge belt buckle, and boots. I dared rebuke my responsibilities as a follower of the Way of the Chuck, and now the man whose chief export is pain shall be coming after me.

Jack was nimble, Jack was quick, but Jack still couldn't dodge Chuck Norris' roundhouse kick.


The best part of this morning was not Folgers in my cup, but knowing that Chuck Norris didn't kill me in my sleep.

There is no escaping it; after all, Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing. There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard, there is only another fist. The man sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month. Which, by the way, was yesterday, so now that he's done with his prior arrangements, will undoubtedly set his sights upon me.




I'm safe at no time of day (Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris). Chuck Norris does not sleep; he waits. If you want a list of Chuck Norris’ enemies, a list I am now surely on, just check the extinct species list. Some kids piss their name in the snow; Chuck Norris can piss his name into concrete.

Chuck Norris-brand toilet paper: it doesn't take shit from anybody.


Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird. Ghosts are actually caused by Chuck Norris killing people faster than Death can process them. Needless to say, I'm screwed. After all, while Chuck Norris is a man of few words, he is not a man of few roundhouse kicks to the face.

Tell Girlfriend that I less than three her. I'll beg Chuck not to take you as one of his 2.6 billion wives, but I can't promise anything. Besides, most women would consider it an honor.

Chuck Norris puts the "laughter" in "manslaughter." So even though it's too late, happy belated you Texas Ranger you.

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