I Hope You Fuckers Are Happy  

Here I was, just starting to feel a little bad for my role in the ongoing saga of mass animal die-offs around the world (see my previous post), and then you guys had to one-up me by doing the impossible: killing Jack LaLanne. Word from my Hollywood friends is that Jack was just hanging out yesterday, updating his MySpace profile, when he stumbled onto a link entitled "The Most Awesomest Thing EVER". Naturally he clicked on the link, which sent him to this blog. However, what he ended up finding here turned out to be not so awesome:

For shame people... FOR SHAME. Apparently, Jack took one look at the current poll results and his heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The same heart that swam handcuffed from Alcatraz to Fisherman's Wharf, and completed 1,033 pushups in 23 minutes. 96 years of kicking ass, only to be finished off by 19 extremely hurtful votes. Not cool guys.

All blame and grieving aside, this notable passing of an iconic health and fitness guru has left me taking a really hard look at things. You know, ask myself some pretty powerful questions. Such as, is it possible that the polls I have been posting for fun have some sort of secret power, wherein we are able to vote for and actually have an effect on who lives and who dies? I guess there's only one way to find out! I posted a new poll, one with the direct intent of voting someone off the island of life. A long time ago I promised you all God-like powers (either that or dinner at The Outback, but I think this works too), and now that I've delivered, what will it be --who stays, and who goes??

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21 Reasons to Live

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