Wednesday, December 03, 2003
You, Sir, Have Led an Empty Life

CJ Staffer Jay bitches about some fasting fakir fuck.

My liver is in distress. For no real reason, I have gone out every single night over the last few weeks, downed Jager like water and sniffed Scarface-sized mountains of weasel dust -- there will be no strippers or booze tonight. My body is telling me I have only a few months before I wind up like John Belushi: dead at 33 in a hotel room, recently vacated by a hooker who shot him full a final speedball if I continue at this pace -- tragic, but par for the course.

Meanwhile, in Ahmedabad, India, an Indian Yogi named Prahlad Jani claims, through divine inspiration, he has survived for 68 years without eating, drinking, pissing, ejaculating, or shitting. A team of 400 doctors has been unable to find anything to the contrary. He has even acquired a devout group of followers that seek his spiritual strength. Now, sitting here at my laptop, licking last night’s wounds and finishing off the last few bites of General Tso’s chicken, I wonder why anyone would do something like that.

General Tso did make some first-rate chicken. He couldn’t have been a very good general if he had a chicken dish named after him. “What’s the matter General Tso – chicken?” If I were a general in the Chinese army, I would want to be notorious for a tougher sounding entree such as General Tso’s Beef or Lobster, but I never claimed to know anything about General Tso anyway. This delicious dish would easily sixth or seventh on my list of all things I’d want to eat. It’s not bacon. It is not succulent, delicious chorizo. Hell, it’s not even fucking lasagna, and it sure ain’t a Hamdog, but, still, it’s delicious.

The real tragedy of Prahlad Jani is that in less than half his amount of years on this planet, and a with a lot less meditation, I’ve figured out that almost every pleasure in life has to do with something entering or exiting your body. I mean, this idiot has gone 68 years without even taking a refreshing piss? Not to mention, he has lived 68 years without roughing up the suspect? Why does this man insist on creating his own Hell on Earth? Hell comes later, and I’ll be seeing all of you there. Besides, Hell is where all the interesting people will be.

This guy just sounds like a more successful David Blaine.

Guess what, David? You’ve been outdone – big time. As a matter of fact, this dude is blowing you away! Blaine once spent 42 days suspended in a glass box next to London's Tower Bridge, with water his only sustenance. YAWN. In the past, Blaine was buried alive for a week. It’s too bad someone remembered to dig him up. DOUBLE YAWN. The magician has even stood atop a 2-foot-wide pillar nearly 10 stories tall in New York City for two days and two nights, and then, at the last hour, in a state of utter exhaustion, jumped off the pillar on live TV. YAWN-O-RAMA!

David Blaine, you are 68 years from being #1. Why don’t you go ahead and join the temple of Ambaji, so you can at least do a little glory-leaching. Both of you can wander into the nearest desert for a bit of friendly competition. My money is on the yoga guy; he can do 42 days without food or water standing on his head, and probably has. Together, you can follow each other like two brainless lemmings, deep into the wasteland. You don’t want to be the second best magic stunt fag on Earth, do you, Dave? I’ll give him 30 days out there -- max, before, during the final agonizing moments of his life, the vultures will commence to circle, ready to peel the flesh from his corpse. As David Blaine’s carcass begins to decay, additional vultures will gather to feast.

Exhausted, Prahlad Jani will have to stop to nourish himself with more yoga. Then, through divine intervention, a plate of General Tso’s chicken will magically fall from the sky. There he will face a choice: eat General Tso’s chicken, in order to obtain the get-up-and-go to escape, or continue doing yoga until his eyes are pecked from his cranium by ravenous vultures.

Obviously, I would go with the chicken, but after 68 years of not eating, he’ll be pretty set in his ways, and would probably choose a martyr’s death at the beaks of carnivorous birds. Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. Your carcass will serve as a reminder to impressionable youth that:

You, sir, have led an empty life.

I gotta go -- the pizza delivery guy is here,