Pillows

My roommate in college was a pillow humper. You know, that face-down masturbation technique where you brutalize your pillow, destroy your bed, and horrify even the most pornographically polluted mind.

He’d wait till I was asleep (or so he thought), and then he would attack the pillow in a way that calls to mind stories of how an entire Roman legion raped Boudicca’s daughters to death.

That never happened. In fact, her whole story is a classic example of how mice play when the cat is away. And how thousands upon thousands of them die horridly when the cat returns with an unlimited armory of heavy javelins and superior tactics. It’s all quite stupid, really. Hey, the massive Roman legions have wiped everyone out and are annihilating the new age Druid wicca people, who are making a desperate and doomed last stand. Now’s our chance to strike!

I don’t think the Britons were in their right minds at that point. While sacking London, Boudicca’s troops cut off the breasts of noble Roman women, then they sewed the breasts over the faces of their victims. I’m sure there must be some sort of explanation for that. Some ancient ritual or deity or something? Because, if not, you just have to wonder. Your commander says cut off that lady’s tits. Okay, sure. Whatever. Now! Sew her tits over her head!

Wouldn’t anybody – from any culture, at any time period in history – sort of stand there and stare incredulously? What was that sir?

Ah, to be in the British army circa 60 AD. Peel potatoes, sharpen spears, sew tits onto heads, and the endless marching!

Back to pillow humping. Because I know you love it. Yes, you, my single Google Reader subscriber. I know you used to be a pillow humper. Though, probably, only with pillows that were shaped like animals.

My roommate, in the wee hours of the morning, would fuck his pillow like a dying man…uh…would fuck…something. I don’t know what I was thinking there, because I’m marathoning NCIS and the only image in my head is Sasha Alexander. Sweeter than the softest pillow.

Needless to say, I was always terrified. I don’t think I slept for a year. Seriously, I almost wanted to call the police and have them save the pillow. It was heart-breaking, and it haunted my waking hours.

In my sophomore year, I took a 17^th job (or so it felt) and went with the single room. I’m still paying for that decision today financially, but it was well worth it.

All this gets me to my real point – The latest research that says the oceans will rise 1.5 meters by 2100, whatever the hell a meter is. The study says tens of millions of people will be displaced.

I would care if those tens of millions were Americans, but they’re actually going to be Bengalis. And, according to the report, 72 million Chinese and 10% of Vietnam, amongst a slew of other unimportant nations. I’m sorry about the Bengalis but, you know, buyer beware in their case. Well, I guess they were kind of stuck with their lot because national borders for non-white countries, up until the 1950’s, were drawn by very drunk children who had never left their basements.

But when it comes to China and Vietnam? Who cares. We still have a score to settle with the Vietnamese, and China has it coming. I know, I know. What about immigration problems here in the US? Dude – 72 million Chinese? The way gas prices are going, we’re going to need to rebuild our train network. And when it comes to laying track through inhospitable hinterland, the Chinese are our go-to race. They’ll rue the day the ice caps melted. Blast that tunnel, fuckers! Yeah, that’s right, nobody thought to put up structural supports because all the white foreman were at the brothel. Don’t worry, your bodies will be vaporized when we blast it open again.

I think the rising sea level thing is funny. I also make a daily prayer that the apocalypse will come and I’ll be the last man on Earth.

I’ve had apocalyptic dreams all my life, except for when my roommates were humping pillows. When I was a kid, though, they weren’t dark dreams. All of my friends survived, though we staked out different parts of the Earth to “rule” and never talked to each other. Notably, though, was that the apocalypse involved trampolines. In my dreams, the entire planet was covered by trampolines and you had to bounce on them to get around. So there’d be these long quests to go visit my far flung friends in their distant, lonely empires and cover thousands of miles in huge trampoline leaps.

I think there’s a dangling modifier there… The leaps weren’t thousands of miles, individually. It would be epic fantasy novel questing to get to my friends. Except bouncing instead of running around in the woods with goblins. Just day after day of peaceful bouncing from trampoline to trampoline. Then, weeks later, have tea with the friend, then bounce home.

Though, if I were living isolated and alone on trampoline world, I’d probably be a pillow humper, too. I shouldn’t be so unkind to my old roommate. After all those weeks of bouncing to have tea with the friend, we’d probably just talk about how boring the apocalypse was. Nothing to do, the world is dead because it’s covered in trampolines… Hey, Nacho, have you ever fucked a pillow while bouncing really high on a trampoline?!?! Gosh, I’m so glad you bounced over!!! I’m going to show you my trampoline pillow humping technique and I REALLY WANT you to critique my method!!!