Re: So I got an assignment to write an autobiography...
Posted:
Mon Sep 19, 2011 7:49 pmby Matt-Chicago
Here it is:
I was born in a cornfield in the middle of Finland, Minnesota. Unfortunately, due to the mandatory military service, I soon found myself conscripted into the Finland Defense Force (FDF), due to my IQ test showing that I would become an intensely intelligent tactician. Soon enough, I found myself conscripted at the ripe old age of three months old, where I found myself playing the bagpipes. It was a sad, sad day when they realized that not only could I not play the bagpipes at three months old, but I could more or less fit into them. I was a very small child.
But I never gave up, and kept on trying until one day, I managed to perform a toot. This led to congratulations from my superior officers, and it was taken as proof that I had truly grown into my role as an incredible tactician, thanks to my swift understanding of how a bagpipe even works. Seriously, have you even seen one of those things? It’s like a bag with tons of pipes sticking out of it, completely goddamn impossible to use. I don’t even know why they made me do it. But regardless, at the age of 7 months, I became the commander of the United States of Minnesota.
It was at this point that I realized that the United States of Minnesota was a bunch of bull, and it was actually a cover for a preschool. When I found out about this, I let my mother have it, calling her any number of insults such as “poopyhead”, “fartface”, and “mother****ing **** head face lookin’ *** mother****er”. When my mother heard such harsh words coming out of my mouth, she smacked me in the face and disowned me for life. But I didn’t let it get me down; instead, I began to form the seeds for my own United States of Minnesota, which lead to the current United States, formerly called US2 .
There are many of you out there that may be wondering; “What the hell is US2?”. Well, I will tell you. It was my first idea as a child, after forcibly taking over the United States via polar bears on motorcycles, to name it that in order to make it seem like it was some sort of awesome new edition. After being told that something squared equals itself, I swiftly backpedaled and just called it the United States of America again. It was a bit embarrassing.
Regardless, it was then that I realized that with the power of the United States at my disposal, that I could make some very bad decisions and not have anyone question them. So I invaded Vietnam. Now you may be wondering how I did this, because I was born in 1993! Well let me tell you how.
Nevermind, I’ll tell you later. And no, I won’t make sure you know when it starts, but it’s a different story arc that I’m still building up. If you aren’t willing to wait for it, then you are a horrible reader and you should probably be disciplined. Preferably by someone named Billy Mays, who was also one of my best friends. But I’ll get to him later. In any case, I left my best bud Adolf to keep the US going while I took on some higher learning. And by that, I mean that I was hired on as a lawyer’s manservant and then stole all his books while he was having sex with all his clients. It was at that point that being a lawyer started to look pretty good. Hell yeah.
Okay, time for the Vietnam war declaring explanation. I built a ****ing time machine, that’s how. But since that was boring, I decided to just skip that bit. I mean, who even cares about that? Soon after invading Vietnam, I used my stunt double, name of Nixon, to cover up the mess. Unfortunately, he got trapped at Watergate hotel and shot in the head by anti-United States forces. Their name? Al-Kaeaedaefafej. Due to not knowing what the hell kind of name that was, we just called them Snoopies.
The war was very long, and very bloody. We were fighting the Snoopies on every front, and losing ground every day. We all sat in our war room while I sucked on my binkie, attempting to think of something, anything that could save us. But nothing came, and we all unanimously agreed that we must nuke all of Europe. Including Great Britain. Because seriously, **** those guys. Bunch of ponce-headed fartheads. But we knew that this couldn’t come down on my head if I was to live…. So I did what I had to do. With Binkie in my mouth and a radio in the other, I ordered the nuke as I flew on Air Force One, making my way towards the circus. It was time to prove my mother wrong. Stupid ***** said I couldn’t make my way into the circus, but I sure showed her.
Within all of an hour, I was suddenly being renowned within the Tri-County area as the smartest ****ing baby in the world, and for good reason. Every time I swore, the people laughed and clapped as though it was the most clever thing they had ever seen. And then when I pulled out my AK-47 and started shooting in the air…. Well, they thought that was pretty damn funny too. It was a very easy job. Of course, when I started making this part of my act, certain people had objections; namely, everyone who wasn’t a circus-goer. Bunch of ****ing prudes, really. I was a baby, why did they care if I was hiring prostitutes? Hell, it’s not like I could do anything with them, I just wanted to pretend to be Scarface for a little while. …You know, maybe it wasn’t the hookers. Maybe it was the piles of cocaine I bought in order to keep the fantasy real. Also, just advice for the kids of whoever’s reading this; don’t do cocaine at a year old, that **** will **** you UP.
This point in my life was very difficult for me. After being fired from the circus I entered into a hobo shelter, where I spent the rest of my life until now. Now I play Xbox every day of my life, which I stole from an upper middle class white family, and I get online with the wifi I steal from my neighbor with the makeshift antenna. I cobbled together a working laptop from sticks and brick, and that gets me through the homework that I must accomplish while living in my one bed one foot apartment. It is a difficult life, but I believe it has prepared me well for my experiences to come in begging; from the circus I learned how to entertain well enough to get paid for it. My plan is to be so incredibly wacky that the white people slumming it decide to pay me a dollar, which I will save up for a later date in order to purchase a hot dog. Then after purchasing it, I will place a shiv inside the hotdog, using it to shank one of my neighbors in order to get his nice burlap coat. I should be pretty much set from then on, and I plan on owning a business shortly after this endeavor. It will be called O’Doyle’s Rules, and it will become a successful law firm due to the experience I gained from being the lawyer’s manservant.
After I successfully establish the law firm, I will sell it immediately for a few million dollars, put it into a bank, and live comfortably off of five hundred thousand dollars a year for the rest of my life. As I settle into my new position of being filthy rich, I will know one thing; that all of it, even the bit where I had to scrape off the rust from the bottom of a portopotty with my bare hands, will have been totally worth it. I will say this as I lounge alone in my La-z-boy, watching whatever sports you white people watch. And then I’ll probably go on a rampage in the middle of a shopping mall or something else suitably tragic for Lifetime to make a [poo] movie about, like that one where someone got off on parole for smuggling like two tons of cocaine over the border. God, that was literally the stupidest thing that I ever watched, and it actually laid down the foundation for my entire life; I knew that never would I make a movie so bad that it was literally painful to watch.
Of course, I never planned on being a movie director. But suddenly, I’ll get a call on the phone one day asking for my assistance in a Hollywood movie based solely around my experiences. I will tell them of the circus, of the hunter who killed the alpha of the bear den I lived in, scattering the entire pack forever. Of the wolf pack that I directed to kill the hunter, and of my high school experiences. High school was quite possibly the most interesting part of my life, due to the fact that I had decided to keep the wolves for my own, and they proved very effective bodyguards against the tyranny of the administration. They couldn’t give me detention if I had my wolves growl at them. Of course, I only made it through about twenty seconds of class before being forcibly removed from the school and placed into a penitentiary. I was able to keep in contact with the wolves through various calls, but long distance relationships were never my strong point. In the end, the wolves moved on, leaving me alone in the prison.
It was then that I started my gang called the O’Doylian Conglomerate, made up of predominantly white males that I had found in the pen, most of which were convicted of credit card fraud. With my entourage of Steve Jobs, Donald Trump, and Warren Buffett, I took control of the entire penitentiary through convenient bribes and quick running. Even the warden feared to cross me. For some reason, I never thought of actually leaving the prison. After all, with my wolf pack gone, how could I ever survive? But something strange happened; the men I had formed the gang with… They became my wolfpack. During all the shooting, cuffing, and pillaging, we stuck together through it all. And eventually… We made it free. The cunning operation was completed with a great deal of aplomb, as we sat down to have our identities confirmed and signed off on, and then got let out into the world. Trump was the mastermind of this particular escape attempt, and a more devious operation I have never seen.
However, with our only ties cut, the gang split up. Everyone formed their own companies, leaving our minions lost and confused. So I took them in. I had them work on a certain project of mine, one that would change the entire world as we knew it.
I was going to build the Death Star.
They told me that I was mad, that such a thing would literally be physically impossible to create with the amount of people that existed on the planet. But where others saw an insurmountable obstacle, I saw a simple opportunity. I began using the connections I had earned in prison to get a Chinese passport, which I used to enter the country. From there, I began to build my power base. A Browning M2 here, a nuclear missile there. Soon enough, I had enough connections to make my way into the Chinese government, and after pointing out that I could level the entire [m'kay] continent with intercontinental ballistic missiles, they soon promoted me to the level of Grand Imperial Inquisitor Majesty, which was an office that I created myself. From here, it was a simple task to simply sip a few thousand tons of aphrodisiac into the water, which caused birthrates to absolutely skyrocket. And so I got the workforce required to build the Death Star.
After that, everything else was relatively simple. The Russians appeared to be the only ones seriously considering space flight, so I sent money to them while simultaneously thinking of ways to undermine the government and take control myself. They used my money to increase funding to the space program, and I used even more of my money to pay for a few hundred thousand spies loyal to the Chinese government, which was quickly becoming the strongest in the world. Due to careful management of lasers capable of making babies grow faster while in the womb, the population was increasing at a rate of about twenty thousand every five minutes, which was –very- essential to the overall plan. Those children matured incredibly quickly, resembling a full grown man within about a month, but their growth leveled off after that. I had the perfect tool to bring the house of cards crashing down; a private army literally incapable of being disloyal.
But something sudden happened one day as I was fishing for koi in my underwater palace. I got a call from one of my old friends, Donald Trump. He said that he had a proposition for me, and I listened intently as he described his offer to pay all the costs related to the creation of the Death Star, and all I would have to do is let him fly it around a bit after completion. I agreed eagerly, looking forward to the sheer awesomeness of cruising about in a massive freaking space station. AWESOME.
Within less than five minutes, the entirety of all Chinese infrastructure, money, and labor was devoted to the creation of the space elevator that would take the workers up to the Death Star, where they would begin working on the station proper. Trump told me that he had enough money to make it so that they wouldn’t have to work in a vacuum, but screw that. I used the extra money to make this really awesome latte maker in my office. It’s about two stories tall and it can make every single flavor known to man. It’s okay, I guess.
About thirty minutes later, the Death Star was fully complete. The Chinese were so insanely awesome at building that only about seventeen trillion were lost in the construction of the station, when estimates hovered around several thousand quadrillion. But this wasn’t enough; I needed control of the most powerful country on earth once more. So I gave Trump a call, told him that he was now my *****, and then took over the United States with a force of about twenty men in a dinghy. And the Death Star. But whatever. But that wasn’t the end…. Oh no, it wasn’t even close. The aliens were coming.
You know those things from Star Trek? You know, the warrior guys with the massive eyebrows that killed eachother to see who was worthy of command? Man, those guys were ****ing awesome, but they’re not what showed up. Nah, they were a bunch of pansy *** little bug things, and we blew them all up with one shot from the Death Star. Unfortunately, I kinda accidently hit the sun while I was at it, and the entire solar system went supernova in about half a second. But it was cool, because I put the sunglasses on the Death Star. Gotta be mindful of those UV rays and ****.
Of course, without a home planet to actually call my own, I was at a loss. But then… Then I thought of something. When something gets broken, you fix it. So why not just recreate the solar system? After about .13 milliseconds of thought, I began work on the sun. That took about seventeen minutes, since the Chinese boys were warmed up from the Death Star, and then all I had to do was recreate Earth. Of course, I had to make it last a few billion years, but that wasn’t too long to wait. So now here we are, with a new United States, a new China, and me, hiding on the dark side of the moon with my massive, world destroying Death Star.
Moral of the story? Don’t piss me off or I will ****ing destroy you and your entire ****ing planet.