(In honor of tonight being Halloween, the year’s most
frightening holiday…I have scared-up a list of my greatest fears. I hope that you find them horrifyingly
hilarious.)
There are two universal truths
about human desire. The first of these universal truths is that, as people we
all want what we can’t have… and two: we all fear what we don’t understand. In
my mind these two truths are eternally intertwined.
What do
I really want? Immortality, which sadly I can’t have without becoming a vampire
first, and what am I afraid of? Practically everything. In an attempt to
itemize and consolidate my fears I thought I would try to list my top 10
irrational fears. Hopefully, this list-making experience will help me to get
over some of these scary subjects and bring me one step closer to immortality.
Fear Number 10 – SPIDERS… There are an abundance of reasons to be afraid of these creepy crawlers. When I was young I fell prey to the propaganda that was “Charlotte’s Web” but after learning that a small percentage of these creatures can fill me up with po8isonous venom, then I try to stay away from the eight-legged freaks. I have individual fears of both ants and bungee jumpers, spiders are a deadly combination of the two. As if my fear of spiders wasn’t naturally bad enough the Spiderman film series revamped my fear with a vengeance. Now I’m afraid that my dad may be a supervillian who will eventually get killed by a spider. After that I’ll have to take over as an evil-genius/green goblin (which I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at. Sure I have my evil moments, but I’m a real shitty scientist).
And on that note: Spiderman’s selection of arch nemesis is far from realistic. Do spiders really have to worry about being killed by Goblins? I think that the story of Peter Parker would ring truer if his enemies were actually a spider’s natural predators.. the bad guys should be natural spider killers with names like… Mr. Tennis Shoe and Rolled-Up Newspaper Man.
Fear Number 9 – BUBBLE GUM… Chewing gum makes me upset because it’s not a food, but it wants to be chewed. Beggers can’t be choosy (or chewy). It’s as if gum wants to have all of the fun of being in your mouth, without facing any of the hardships that come along with traveling throughout the digestive system. Come on gum, shit happens… and you’ll end up being a part of it if you stay in that mouth for too long.
My real fear when it comes to bubble gum, is that I’m afraid to be a round people who are chewing it because there is always the very real possibility that some of that gum will end up in my hair. We all know that the only way to get bubble gum untangled from your hair is to use peanut butter to flush it out. If too many folks end up with peanut butter in their hair, then there will be less peanut butter for all of the sandwiches of the world… which leads us into my next fear…
Fear Number 8 – A MASSIBE PEANUT BUTTER SHORTAGE… I know what you’re thinking, “this guy is a total peanut butter freak… I would never want to get between him and his Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups.” While it’s true that I love my daily peanut butter and honey sandwich, my fear of this shortage is for entirely selfish reasons. I’m afraid that if we start running of peanuts not only will the elephants and baseball fans of the world starve, but they will also look for replacement nuts to crush. To put things quite frankly, I DON’T WANT ANYBODY TO CRUSH MY NUTS… period! Not only would the crushing of my testicles be highly inconvenient and uncomfortable for me, but the act would be tragic for taste-testers as well. TRUST me, my nuts do not taste good when covered in jelly (Don’t believe me? Just ask any of my ex-girlfriends).
Fear Number 7 – A COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL BIBLICALLY BASED FEAR OF THE NUMBER BEWTWEEN 5 AND 7… this brings me to a fearful reworking of a classic numeric joke. Question: why was 6 afraid of 7? Original Answer: Because 7 eat 9 (pause for a rim-shot). Despite all of my other fears… cannibalism doesn’t really scare me. Due to my painfully pale complexion I don’t really consider myself as a prime subject for breakfast, lunch or dinner. I think that a newer, more appropriate version of the joke would read… Question: Why was 6 afraid of 7? New Answer: Because 6 is a fucking little bitch, that’s why! I’m always going to be suspicious of a number that is less-confident than I am. Plus, if 6 is a bitch, I have a bad history with bitches. My last girlfriend was a total bitch and she left me for a guy she met while she was in a play that I helped her train and try-out for. A brief recap… my #7 fear is the number 6!
Fear Number 6 – AHHHHH, HOLY SHIT, 6! (See above)
Fear Number 5 – SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION… I don’t really know if it is the pure spontaneity or the fact that I would have to be combustable for this to work out, but I am utterly afraid of randomly exploding. One minute you’re here the next you’ve completely vanished… that’s some scary Hoodini/Who-Done-It type of shit. Quite possibly the only thing that I could think of that would be scarier than spontaneous combustion would be my number 4 fear.
Fear Number 4 – A LENGTHY, WELL THOUGHT-OUT, CAREFULLY PLANNED COMBUSTION… This scenario adds a fear of the unknown to the fear of being upwardly blown (and no I’m not talking about getting head from a midget… that fear narrowly missed the top 10). In this case the fear of the known overshadows it’s more spontaneous counter-part. Every time that I get explosive diarrhea I’m usually sure that I have fallen victim to some elaborate ploy by evil Indian or Mexican chefs who are trying to blow me up with their deliciously spicy food. If I were to explode while in the restroom when the air conditioner was on, then the shit would surely hit the fan (along with all of my other scattered pieces).
Fear Number 3 – WAKING UP AFTER A TRULY WICKED HANGOVER, ONLY TO FIND THAT I NOW HAVE A TRAMP STAMP… some of you folks out there may be unfamiliar with the term “Tramp Stamp”. No, it is not the form of marked postage that one uses when shipping a package to a little hussy. A “Tramp Stamp” is also not a commemorative issued tamp displaying the likeness of Charlie Chaplin. Rather a “Tramp Stamp” is the name of a tattoo that is located on the often exposed lower back of a sexy young lady (or a boldly out of the closet gay man) right above their buttocks (also known as the gateway to the coin slot).
This marking (usually a Chinese Symbol, single sassy word,
or some variety of foliage) tells people, “Hey, I’m a slut and you’re just
inches from my butt.”
I’m afraid that I’ll get too drunk at some point, wake up
with a “Tramp Stamp” and then find out that in my drunken stupor I had done
something illegal and wound-up in jail. Behind bars and inmate with a “Tramp
Stamp” is like a mailman who wears
under-trousers that are full of doggy biscuits.. those hounds wanted your ass
before, but now you’re going to end up with their bone dug into your backyard
no matter what.
Fear Number 2 – DEALTH… While this fear is far from original, it is completely relevant to all
living beings. I, like many, am not crazy about the thought that my existence is finite. I spent the first 16 years of my life with the knowledge that the female sector of our race did not believe that I existed… and after nearly a decade of having moderate success with the ladies, I am dreadfully frightened of ht estate of no-existence returning.
As existentially depressing as not-existing would be, I am
more afraid of death itself than the state of not living. By death of course, I
mean the grim reaper… you know the guy. The dark black robe, the shank like
staff, the Darth Vader respiratory disorder.. he’s one scary dude (for
clarification on just how scary of a “Dude” he can be, I would highly suggest
the file: “Bill and Ted’s Most Bogus Journey”).
A recent study of fears tells us that public speaking is the number 1 fear is America… Death ranks as a national number 2 (if Tim Tebow ere to sign with death… it would likely help death out in the BCS Power Rankings). My biggest problem with Mr. Death combines those two fears… I’m really afraid that I’ll be performing as a stand-up comedian and death will be my opening act. Knowing death, he’ll completely kill the crowd and I’ll have nothing to work with (knowing death, he’ll probably kill the club owner as well and I won’t even get paid).
AND MY NUMBER 1 FEAR OF SOMETHING THAT IS COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL IS…
Fear Number 1 – THE SONG “BILLIE JEAN” BY MICHAEL JACKSON… There are so many reasons for this song to be number 1. First off, this is the greatest song of all-time and it deserves to be number one on every top-ten list (regardless of topic). This song is so good that it is dangerous (even though it is a selection from MJ’s 1982 album “Thriller”, as opposed to his 1991 album “Dangerous”).
Every time that this song comes on at a dance, party, bar mitzvah , etc. I take over the dance floor and do the entire “Motown 25” dance routine. The power that this song has over me is quite frightening… it has become a staple of my life and social popularity. However , what if this song comes on while I’m at a funeral and I can’t control myself from grabbing my crotch and screaming “Owww!” This could totally ruin the mourning ceremony for a friend, family members or loved ones.
Or, even worse… what if this song is played at my funeral and my life-less body hops out of the coffin and starts moonwalking across the alter? Sure, that sort of reaction may be more relevant with the title track “Thriller”… but hey, who would play “Thriller” at a funeral (except for perhaps Vincent Price and Michael Jackson)?
I’m also an expectant father (my son is due in the middle of March) and a big fan of irony and the Maury Povich Show… what if years down the line I go on the show and find out that “The kid is no my son…”? I would be utterly divested by the prophecy of my favorite song.
A very brave fellow once said that, “There is nothing to fear, but fear itself.” Most likely this man has never rocked-out to Billlie Jean, in a room full of gum-chewers, during a mass peanut butter shortage. I guess when you really get down to it, “I fear nothing more than I fear myself” (Christian Slater: ear your hear out.)
