It is Tuesday now, and I’ve still got the flu like a motherfucking fireplace. If you are delirious with fever, don’t spend two of your four waking hours watching Downton Abbey, or that cadence will get in your head and make your recurring dismemberment dream weirdly dry and proper. I feel better today, although I do not feel anything that could be described as good, and hopefully tomorrow will see a return to form. In the meantime, how about you enjoy this clever advertisement? Props to Spencer for the link.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUG9qYTJMsI&feature=youtu.be

 

 

It’s a brand new week, and I feel like shit’s fat brother. I have the flu, and I know exactly where I got it: at Thursday night’s birthday celebration for the venerable Brad Monahan. That’s where a three year-old greeted the arrival of our pizzas by standing on his chair, putting his hands on his back and coughing—straight up into the air and sort of left to right, like a sprinkler. I felt liquid hit my face. I did not restrain myself form eating pizza in any way, which is why A) I should not be in charge of my own behavior and B) children should be briefly boiled upon arrival in any restaurant. While I sweat through a series of disturbingly cyclical dreams, how about you enjoy this exhaustive inquiry into the Kony 2012 phenomenon. It’s either great or hideously cynical—probably both!

Since we spent so much of the week railing against declinism, I figured we’d take Friday to argue that American society is going down the tubes—you know, in the interest of fairness and balance. I’ve learned to use those words to refer to the opposite position of what is true, because I regard contemporary discourse as so broken that it doesn’t matter what I say. Thus does cynicism propagate itself. Of course, it is a true fact that empires rise and then fall again. Straitened people achieve great things, and into this greatness they bring a generation of entitled pussies. That was probably our parents, and now we are absolutely livid with them that we might have to do something to remain the Earth’s only superpower. It’s Friday, and Rome is in decline. Won’t you make the potentially disastrous mistake of eating a bunch of olive oil and dates with me?

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The picture of Rick Santorum above is constructed from still shots of gay pornography. That’s why the Bible forbids us from depicting worldly things with images, as Santorum would tell you were his mouth not made entirely of twinks raw-dogging it in all holes. You’ve got to take the good with the bad. For example, our access to insane Santorum remarks and pornographic mosaics of his face is higher than ever before, but that comes at the cost of his maybe almost getting near the presidency. Don’t think about it; just look at the picture. It’s the spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine et cetera, and this Friday—when all consumed must be dissolved in water and taken with medicine—it’s the guiding principle of our link roundup. Sugar after the jump.

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There will be no Combat! blog today, because in approximately one hour I will undergo minor surgery wherein a very confident oral surgeon implants a titanium screw in my upper jaw, onto which my dentist will later screw a tooth. “Don’t screw a tooth!” I will say cheerfully to him. Anyway, it seems likely that the whole thing will give me a headache. It will be worth it to finally have my number-ten incisor, or at least a weird metal post sticking out of a mass of traumatized gum tissue and pulp. We’ll be back tomorrow, possibly complaining.