Love Delivered

"I've been looking for love in all the wrong places, but I've learned a lot about Dragonball Z in the process."

Are you hungry? I'm hungry. But I don't feel bad about it anymore. It happens to everybody. If someone tries to make you feel bad for being hungry, just tell them, it's normal for your average human being to get hungry 50 to 65 times a day. Depending on how much you work out.

But it's okay to get hungry, because there's lots of different foods out there to eat. Apples. Rack of lamb. Ketchup packets—if you're in a rush or not as hungry as usual. Some people even eat other people if they get hungry enough, but let me tell you it better be really hard circumstances, like you're stuck in a lifeboat together and one of you is dying. Or you have their permission.

If you don't want to jump right to eating people, try delivery food. It's great. Even the crummiest shitholes, like Boswell, Oklahoma, have delivery food these days. You can get pizza delivered right to your door, or your window, if you throw a few extra dollars in it for the guy. Other places have delivery now, too—sub sandwiches, chicken wings, salads, pizzas, bread of questionable mental stability, Mexican food. Chinese food, they even have Chinese food delivery, and believe me, that's a long trip.

I say the delivery thing hasn't gone far enough, or has yet too far to go, however the phrasing should be. In some places you can get groceries, cold food, delivered to your house. You can get mail even—crazy world. People will deliver cars to your house, some companies. There are even some thieves who will come right to your house—no more need to go out.

I would like to see a day where everything is delivered right to you. Bring the mountain to Mohammad, the Arab Bible says, and I agree. Doctors should call on you right at your house—can you imagine the day?

That's only the beginning, or the middle since the beginning is all the stuff we already have. All kinds of crazy services will be the way of the future. You can get flu shots or tax forms or someone can come out to your house and appraise how much it's worth—all without having to leave, or cart your house in on the back of a flatbed to the bank. Already the internet has made it where you don't have to leave your house to start receiving threatening messages or to be hounded by people with weird fetishes. Which reminds me, I've got some stuff I've got to do when I get finished with this.

Clowns? You like clowns? Shitloads of clowns will pile out of a special truck and they'll be doing cartwheels and all sorts of whacky crap right on your lawn. You'll be up to your ass in clowns until you're sick of them. Then you call the gun shop and have them bring over a double-barrel to chase off the goddamn clowns. 'Cause you can only stand so much, you know, before you go apeshit.

No more looking for love, either. I dream of the day, eventually, when love comes right to your door. Some charming lady dressed just the way you want will come right to your door. You get all the love you want, give her some money, then she goes away and you can watch TV. Not today. But someday.

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