Nostradamus was a Nostradouchebag

That’s right, I said it. And you know what? I am frankly a little upset that I am the only one on the internet (I did not fact check this statement) who is saying it. In lieu of that, I will say it again, Nostradamus was a Nostradouchebag. Or possibly a Nostradumbass. Here is my reasoning for it:

It really all comes down to a single question: Did Nostradamus know that he was predicting the future when he was writing those goddamned quatrains? Let’s take this question hypothetically and answer it as such.

If the answer is “NO”:

If he did not know that what he was writing down was “prophesies of things to come,” then why did write it all down? He felt compelled? Bullshit. I felt compelled to write a bunch of poetry in 2008, and all that came out of it was the realization that I cannot write good poetry.

“But what if he was given the ability to see future without knowing what it meant by a higher power?” you may be asking me. Which, in all honesty is stupid of you, seeing as though I cannot read your thoughts and I am probably not sitting in the same room as you read this. But I will answer it anyway because you want me to. My answer is this: God made Mohammed, Jesus, Moses, and Abraham prophets.  And all of them ( though they could very easily be considered crazy) at least preformed some kind of amazing feat. They were all able to back themselves up with the muscle of a higher power.  Hell, Moses was as crazy as you would expect a guy who was abandoned in a river and wondered through the desert for 40 years to be, but God still gave him a staff that could turn into a snake and the ability to murder the shit out of some Egyptians. God did Moses the favor of backing him up when shit was going to get real. He did not do that with Nostradamus. Nostradamus, just made some crazy claims in the forms of 4 line poetry.

Judging by some of the “predictions” it’s almost as if good ole merciful Yahweh didn’t even give a damn. Either God really stopped giving a damn after we killed his son (that would account for The Dark Ages), He ran out of good ways to tell us things, or Nostradamus was a shit-house crazy old man who lost it after his first family got murdered by the plague. I’m going with that last one; No one claims that Batman knows the future, and basically the same thing happened to him.

And that’s not even taking into account that if God really did give Nostradamus those predicitons, then why in the holy name of fuck did He code them in poetry? He gave us The 10 Commandments as 10 simple, easy to remember sentences, and we still get them wrong all the time. Why did He think we were going to be able to figure the quatirains out before the events take place? If He did have anything to do with Nostradamus’ prophesies, then He is either a total dick, or He fucking loves irony.

If the answer is “YES”

Then Nostradamus is a dick. It’s that plain and simple. He is a dick for seriously writing down every goddamn quatrain,  every line, and every word as a goddamned riddle. Here, this picture will illustrate what I mean:

If  he really knew that all these bad things were going to happen, he could of at least  wrote the warnings in clear, understandable prose that would be impossible to misinterpret. I mean after all, we are talking about massive wars and hu-mon extinction here. And yes, Prose did  exist back then because that’s how everyone talked. Thinking that people in the 1500s and 1600s talked like they were in a Shakespeare play is like people 500 years from now thinking that everyone from our time act like the drunk assholes from Jersey Shore.

Seriously though, Nostradamus really should have spelled it fucking out for us.

“Oh, Hister meant Hitler, and Hitler was born near the Hister portion of the Danube River? Well thanks for letting us know Nostradamus. I mean, yea 6,000,000 Jews are dead, all of Europe is one big pile of rubble, and Japan got nuked twice, but you still warned us. Sure it would have been great if you would have just told us flat out, so that way we wouldn’t have let things get this bad. But hey, hindsight is always 20/20, right?” Fuck you and your plague riddled family, you godforsaken charlatan.

Oh, and for those of you who do not know what quatrain I referenced in the previous paragraph, it’s this one:

Out of the deepest part of the west of Europe.

From poor people a young child shall be born.

Who with his tongue shall seduce many people

His fame will increase in the Eastern Kingdom.


First of all, Hitler’s parent’s weren’t poor; sure they weren’t rich, but they had enough money to send him to school after all.

Secondly, what counts as “The deepest part of the west of Europe?” To me Deep Western Europe would be more west, not more east, but hey I’m only using logic.

And finally, the third line, “Who with his tongue shall seduce many people.” I wonder who else did that…

Muhammed Ali

Bill Clinton

Martin Luther King Jr.

Barack Obama

Glenn Beck

Sarah Palin


Ronald Reagan


Dane Cook


I would like to point out that I did not have any order for the pictures above. I just brainstormed there. Deal with it. What I’m saying is that being a good public speaker and very charismatic will get you power, and you just have to hope that the person does not use that power for evil. I’m all for calling Hitler the Anti-Christ, but based on that quatrain, anyone can show up at any-time and fit that same description.  Hitler then becomes some evil prick that makes time traveling baby murderers something honorable.

Oh and in case you’re wondering where all this is coming from, I read this article a couple of days ago on Vice Magazine’s website. It was pretty interesting, but also pretty depressing, because they said that the world was going to end in 4 weeks. But they also said that it will be caused by a huge earthquake  traveling East to West with the new day. Apparently you cannot trust anyone in the priesthood when it comes to anything with geology.

What I am getting at with this ramble is that we don’t know when the world is going to end, and we never will. The only reason we do this shit is because we all love the “we’re all going to die” scenario, probably because we are all secretly hateful bastards and want to see our enemies die, while we stuggle heroically.

The thing is that we hu-mons will never know the future, and no amount of gypsy blood or DNA modification is going to change that.  This means that all the end of the world conspiracies are trying to say they are the needle in an infinitely large haystack. Even the prophesy that the 2 Northernmost countries in the world would destroy each other in a nuclear war. The two Northernmost countries, by the way, are Russia and…..

Well, shit

Hey,  If there are any Canadians reading this right now,  I am willing to sell you Alaska for $500 on the condition that you must take the entire Palin family with the deal. You may do with them whatever you wish.

I am not saying that we are going to be here forever, and I am definitely not saying that all the doomsday scenarios are not possible. What I am saying is that we humans are not privy to that kind of information. Only Yahweh, Allah, Vishnu, The Maya Death Gods, or Barack Obama know when that is going to happen. But if Yahweh is the one pulling the strings, Palm Sunday was pretty good proof that I am safe, or that God has a great sense of humor (see footnote for story… yea, there’s a footnote).

God fucking loves irony so much that he fucks it and calls it the next day.

Footnote: On Palm Sunday, I went to church with my mom, as all begrudgingly good Catholics do. At the end of Communion, I was kneeling in the pew, watching the distributers bring the Gifts (The Body and Blood, or the crackers and wine, depending on whether or not you are a heathen). And as I knelt there, I watched the last woman bring her plate o’ Christ up to the altar, and I couldn’t help but wonder “how funny would it be if she tripped right now? Those crackers would go flying everywhere, it would totally ruin the tone of the service from solumn to slap-stick. I just hope I could keep myself from laughing.” She made it up to the altar just fine, but when she was headed back to her seat, she tripped and fell  right in front of the entire congregation. Everyone, including myself, gasped. I thought it was funny, not because she fell, but once she did, I thought “Oh shit, did I do that?” My next thought was “Hey God, thanks for answering my question and all, but honestly, I was okay with letting that one go. I didn’t know the answer to that one. You really wasted your time on me when you could be helping the people in Japan right now. But still, thanks, I do know the answer to my question now : it was kind of funny.

Alright, I’m done.

Peace until the world ends in 4 weeks


My Time as a Castaway on an “Island Paradise”

Day 1

Dear Log,

I woke up looking at the beautiful blue sky today. This alarmed me, because the last thing I remember was people panicking on the ship I was on; The Wet Duchess. Putting 2 and 2 together, I realized that I must have been shipwrecked. The island I landed on is tiny. There is one coconut tree, 1 live chicken (for some reason), part of a boat, and some grass. I harvested the coconuts and am hoping that they stave off my hunger for long enough for me to get some eggs from the chicken before I slaughter it. I hope I am rescued soon. This place blows.

Day 2

Dear Log,

I don’t know why, but I can visit a shop that sells seeds! Did you know that you can grow corn in a tropical climate? I sure didn’t. I also didn’t know that it only takes two days for corn to come to harvest. That means those bastards in Iowa are just lazy. I actually want to call bullshit on this, but I do not have access to a computer. I’ll Wikipedia that shit as soon as I get rescued. It should be any day now. I also bought an apple tree (another plant that I thought couldn’t survive in a tropical climate) a couple more chickens and a goat. They had cooler trees, crops and animals there, but I wasn’t allowed to buy them because they said I wasn’t a “high enough level” yet. I’m not even sure what that means. Whatever, I’ll figure out a way to “level up.” Let them play their fucking game.

Sorry I’m so irratible- It was a long night. Actually, there is no night. Wherever I am, it is a perpetual state of day. I tried to sleep, but the sun with its smug ass grin on its face kept shining on me. Not to mention that bastard playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on the kettle drum who randomly fucking plays near my island. I started to throw rocks at him, though, so point 1 for me.

Day 5

Dear Log,

I know this is going to sound crazy, but people have been stealing my shit! I woke up today and I realized that I only had one egg left with each chicken and they usually lay three. What the fuck is going on? Who would do this? I don’t even care about the chickens. They can kill the Goddamn chickens and have sex with their corpses for all I care. I just want off of this island. Hopefully I am here the next time they show up. Maybe I can barter my way off of this fucking rock.

Day 7

Dear Log,

I’ve been here for a week, I only sleep because I will randomly pass out, and I still see no sign of ships on the horizon. It doesn’t help that I have to spend time harvesting crops and gathering milk and eggs from my animals. But it at least passes the time, and hey, I’ve been selling the food that I don’t need to survive off of for those coins that are worthless in the real world. And I guess I have been leveling up. The people at the shop tell me that I am at level 3 now. I’m not sure how they now, but I guess I can trust them. I mean, what are they gonna do, screw me out of money?

Day 8

Dear Log,

They screwed me out of money. I went to the shop late yesterday and I saw a strange looking bird called a cassowary. I had to spend real world money on it. Yea, I don’t know what the fuck it is, but they say that it is aggressive and won’t let anyone steal it’s eggs. I was fucking amazed. They knew about the thieves. I asked them about it, and they told me that the people that were stealing my shit were friends of mine. Of course I didn’t believe them at first, but then they told me that I could visit my friends’ islands and steal from them too. If the people at the shop are telling the truth, then my “friends” are going to learn firsthand that payback is a vengeful bitch.

Day 9

Dear Log,

I visited my friends for the first time today. I am not sure how I get to their island, but I did more or less unintentionally plant my crops in the shape of a swastika, so maybe it was Nazi magic that takes me to my friends’ islands. You wouldn’t believe how many of my friends have been stranded on their own separate islands. We all seem to have been stranded the same way too, which is a little too coincidental for my liking. I suggested to my one friend Matt Bible if I could move onto his island so that we could figure out a way to be rescued, and he told me to go fuck myself. Fucking Jews.

P.S. – I just found out that I can take pictures of my Island (again, I assume Nazi magic is at work). Here is what I hope is going to be the first of very few.

Day 11

Dear Log,

I received a gift from a “friend” today. It wasn’t a boat, raft, flare gun, or anything else that would be useful for me to get off this fucking island. Thanks a fucking lot for the cow, Ashley. I’m sure the heat from the tropical climate will make the milk extra delicious. But I guess today wasn’t all bad. A treasure chest washed up on shore today and was filled with… those fucking gold coins. Where do these gold coins come from? Seriously, what country would consider this legal tender? Is this even real gold? And why can’t I use this shit to buy my way off of this island? God, It’s like the people at the island shop are keeping us all here. They already have dicked me over by not giving me the equipment needed for me to slaughter one of my animals. Other than eggs, I am a forced vegetarian. It’s bullshit.

Day 14

Dear Log,

Apparently, I lost my dog. I don’t even remember having a dog, so I wasn’t particularly upset about this. My friends are helping my find it, but I don’t trust them. And why should I? They steal my shit! But of course I’m a hypocrite because I steal from them, but I bitch when they steal from me. I feel like I should calm down about it a little, but my life is at stake here. I am fucking trapped on this island and no one seems to want to get back home but me. And those people at the island shop aren’t helpful at all. They sold me a fucking raft, but as I’m hauling it to my island, they tell me that it is only for decoration. WHO WANTS A GODDAMN RAFT AS A DECORATION WHEN THEY ARE STRANDED ON A FUCKING ISLAND?!?!  Jesus Cliff-Diving Christ, I don’t want my island to be slightly more comfortable because it was arranged by Ty fucking Pennington, I want to go home!

Day 18

Dear Log,

Sorry about the outburst a couple of days ago, I was frustrated. Anyway, my suitcase washed up on shore today. This would be a great thing if all of my clothes inside weren’t so tattered. I’m not sure how this happened; my suitcase was locked. It kind of look like someone was rummaging through it too. Why do I have the sneeking suspicion that the people in the Island shop had something to do with this? Anyway, I have also got my dog back, which is cool, but I don’t know what the fuck to do with him. He doesn’t heard the animals, he does not fetch me fish, he doesn’t guard my island from my bastard friends, and I am not going to even attempt to milk him. So basically, I just gained another mouth to feed and I am still not allowed to kill my animals. I hope Fido here knows the rules too.

Day 22

Dear Log,

I just bought 2 turkeys (with real money, no less) and when it came time to harvest them, I found out that I am harvesting stuffing. What the FUCK?!?!?!

Day 44

Dear Log,

Holy shit, My island got bigger! I woke up this morning and realized that I had a lot more grass than I remember. I guess I “leveled up.”  This probably means that the people in the Island shop want me to produce more yield. Yea, I have to meet a quota. I knew this was all bull shit.

Day 60

Dear Log,

I’m trying to get used to this place-I honestly am. I plant my crops, I harvest from my trees and animals, and I buy that stupid shit from the fucking Island store. I am the tool that they want me to be. I even have begun to ignore the blatant stupidity of a kiwi bird giving you kiwi fruit. I do not want to know where the fruit comes from, but I assume it is out of its ass. But today-today they added something to the shop that pissed me off so much that I had to call bullshit. Mistletoe bushes. Fucking Mistletoe bushes. First of all, mistletoe is poisonous, so why the fuck are we planting this? Are they planning some type of festive Christmas massacre? I don’t know but Fuck Them. Secondly Mistletoe is a parasitic plant that grows on trees- not from the ground. And not only does mistletoe NOT grow from the ground, mistletoe does NOT let the farmer know that it is ready for harvest by growing a bow. Fuck mistletoe, fuck the people in the Island shop, and fuck this island!!!

Day 63

Dear Log,

It’s snowing on my island. Again, FUCK THIS ISLAND!!!

Day 77

I think I stopped caring. This past week I bought two giant monkey head statues, a Chinese tiger statue, and a dragon kite. I’ve started to plant flowers (which I originally thought was an incredibly retarded idea) mainly to get awards. Also, I am just now allowed to fish, so I am finally allowed to eat meat. Too bad I hate fish, and there are only three types that I can catch. But whatever…

Day 86

Dear Log,

Sorry that I haven’t written so much lately, I’ve just been losing track of time. All the days are blurring together. I only know when a new week passes when the Island shop has some new retarded shit for me to buy (This week- Valentine’s Day shit). Ashley and Sam gave me teddy bears. I would be pissed by this, but these teddy bears do keep me company. I named one Thrasher and the other Todd. They’re hardcore gangstas. Todd will kill someone without a second thought, and Thrasher will kick your ass, rip it off, hand it back to you, and tell you have a nice day. Yea, thrasher is a gentleman as well as a hardcore ghetto gangsa.

They will kill you.

Day 95…no, maybe 99?

Dear Log,

Now I have a volcano AND a stone henge. Let me list off the things I have on my Island:

The aforementioned volcano and Stone Henge

Dragon kite

Tiger statue

Hula girl that I cannot have sex with. I call her “Slutty Jane” anyway.

My Moi statue

A pirate flag

Tiki heads

Fucking Christmas trees

Bamboo plants that magically turned into sugarcane at some point

Maple trees

Breadfruit trees- you harvest bread from them- I want to kill myself.

Teddy bears

Mystic lamas- there is nothing “mystic” about them


Tiki cauldrons to cook omlets macaroons, chips and salsa, pizza, and vege stir-fry

Where the FUCK am I?!?! where is my Island suppose to be? The shit on my island is from all over the place! What the fuck are the people in the Island shop trying to pull?

seriously, where the fuck am I?

Day 110ish

Dear Log,

Thrasher and Todd have told me that the best way for me to get off of this island it to become one with the island. So I decided to change my clothes to more reflect native garb and to sacrifice the hula girl. When I went looking for new clothes, I found A leprechaun costume, cat ears, and clothes promoting Austrailia…

I don’t even know what to say about this anymore, So I will continue. You can make up your own Goddamn jokes for this.

I bought a grass skirt, and some tribal paint for my face and chest. After that, I sacrificed that uptight hula girl to the volcano god Burnynuttus (which sounds like a weird name for a venereal disease). Burnynuttus was not appeased and the dragon that has been terrorizing my island attacked my animals. Despite the failure of their first idea, I gave Todd and Thrasher a second chance and gave them a cannon and extra ammunition so that they can kill all of my friends.

me huntin for some head

In case you were wondering, yes I am wearing normal clothes- my grass skirt was in the wash

Todd and Thrasher with their cannon and pirate flag- also my peppers may be radioactive

Day I don’t give a Damn

Dear fucking Log,

I woke up this morning (or at least I think it was morning) in a daze with a throbbing headache, and a bunch of my shit missing. I don’t mean crops, milk, or eggs- I mean trees and my fucking Stonehenge! Someone stole all of it. I went to the Island shop, and they made me buy them again. They literally forced me to buy it again. Well, fuck all of this. I’ve started a war.  I cleared my plots of farming soil completely from my island, except for a few that that the shape the of the letters “F” and “U.”Thrasher, Todd, and I killed that bastard with the kettle drum with the cannon, and then we started to take out my friends one-by-one. There is only one thing left to do. I still have some mistletoe berries saved from when we were allowed to plant. My animals, my Moi, my monkey heads, the dragon, the hula girl, and the tiki heads, and I have all agreed on what I should do. I will eat them and will die a painful death. But hey- at least I found my way off of this Island.

If you are reading this, I am already dead, and you are now stranded on the Island that I once lived on. You are trapped here. You cannot escape, you cannot fight, you cannot win. You may not believe me now, but one day you will see how the people in the Island shop control you, and keep you here. You are their slave. The sweet escape of death is the only way out. I’m not even sure if you will get a chance to read this. Those assholes at the Island shop might have found this before you. Hopefully by burying it here, you will be the only one to find it. I’m starting to feel the poison from the mistletoe kick in. I need to put this in a bottle and quick. May God have mercy on my, Thrasher’s, Todd’s and your soul.

Fuck you Island Paradise

Minigan Blackwood-Castaway

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