Charity Work

I love cynical people. They still possess humanity. Some are bigger assholes than others, but they all have one thing in common: a sense of humor, however fucked up. You can tell the difference between a cynic and a misanthrope easily by looking in his eyes. The cynic is reaching out to you (however fucked up); the misanthrope wishes he could evaporate you with laser beams -- usually from his eyes, occasionally from his penis tip.

You can tell a lot about a man by the fuck-you look in his eyes (or, occasionally, his penis tip). For the cynic, it's defensive, a survival instict; for the misanthrope, it belies, well, a hatred for his fellow man. And, occasionally, latent homosexuality.

(Relax, I'm being satirical. So it's OK.)

I've spent enough time in bars to realize that

(I shouldn't spend so much time in bars)

drunk wisdom is just that, so please don't hear me out. If I were me and you were you, I'd ignore me too.

But I'm saying...

Sincerity should be measurable like blood-alcohol levels and Seismic waves.

[K-Mart: Ever heard of a polygraph, genius?]

Alright, scratch that. Good intentions should be measurable like what the road to Hell is paved with. I'm not going to cut off a finger to help your cause, gaucho, but I sincerely wish you the best of luck. Come through for me, papi.

If you're ever in need of a kidney, however, I'm your man. I got a spare. And I'm always willing to help a man in need. However fucked up.