Gift Ideas For The Guy Who Has It All: Me
by Dick ValentineToday is my birthday. Let the gravity of that statement sink in, let it get deep down into your psyche, swish it around, taste it, it's delicious. I know it's hard to imagine, but at one point, some undisclosed number of years ago, I wasn't here. Did you hear that pop? That was your mind being blown, and you liked it, you dirty dirty boy.
You may not remember the way the world once was, all darkness and melancholy, or the morning the burning sun finally rose on your heart and bathed you in its luminous warmth, you may not even remember that it was on August 10th, but it was, and now you know. Let that knowledge inform your actions. In other words, do the right thing: buy me something. Do it.
This is a holiday that ranks just behind Christmas only because I thought it would be tacky to one-up God by being born first. Had I been born a few millennium earlier, you'd be carefully laying presents around the base of a scale replica 1965 Shelby Cobra adorned with fuzzy dice and the suggestive silhouettes of reclining full breasted women every August, and everyone would know December to be the worthless month of ice storms and seasonal flus that it truly is.
As things currently stand, the entire western hemisphere generally takes the entire week off work and in the East every first born male child who has reached the age of maturity must mark the day by taking a sacred pilgrimage into the wild and returning with the slain carcass of an adult elephant, which they must then consume raw, in one sitting, in the hope that they might achieve the fullness of manhood as I have. They're crazy for that kinda shit over there.
I've received some awesome gifts in the past, like the month of gladiatorial games Ceasar held in my honor that eliminated two-thirds of all life on earth, or the constellation shaped like an electric guitar shooting warm feelings that Jesus set up for me. This year, President Obama and Prime Ministers Sarcozy and Putin are pitching in to have their joint military forces etch my face into the surface of the moon with nuclear missiles.
Most of my adoring readers have already FedEx'd me their first born child, a signed contract offering to let me impregnate them with their first born child, or, if they are a first born child, just themselves in a box. But frankly, I'm pretty disappointed by the few of you who have yet to send me anything. I spent the better part of the morning trying to decide whether drowning you in your own repentant tears or just canceling all your birthday's for the next decade would be a better punishment, but around noon I decided to be merciful. So I am going to give you one last chance to mend your hedonistic ways and send me a card or something.
I know I'm notoriously difficult to shop for, because lets face it, I have it all. I also know that if I disapprove of the gift anyone sends me, they will instantly die from the shame they have brought upon themselves and their family. It's a bit of a catch-22. So I just did you all the huge favor of putting together a list of a few of the things I'd particularly like to receive this year. Enjoy it, I just did the hard part for you.
1. Creative rights to everything that happened on earth before 3,200 BC. This is widely considered to be "prehistory" because there are no written records from before that time. I'd like the creative rights to this time period so that I can travel back in time, make up some sensational histories of the day, then come back to this time and sell the film adaptations for some serious bank. I'd then sue the writers of the movie 10,000 BC for infringment and making shitty movies.
2. Ties and sweaters. I love a good tie or sweater. I'm freaking insane for them. I can't tell you how many times people have gotten me a tie or a sweater for my birthday, but I can tell you that I've never gotten sick of it. Sure, I bought all the ties I thought looked even remotely wearable years ago, and granted, no one has ever actually worn a piano key or Hawaiian themed tie other than as a joke, and it's true that I could wear a different tie every day for 12 years before I had to wear one of the ones I've been given twice, but none of that means that my closet doesn't have room for a few more. And sweaters? I like to wear them three or four thick and enjoy summering in Antarctica, so keep 'em comin' baby!
3. A new element named after me. Or several. I know scientists have been having some trouble getting new heavy elements to stay together for any length of time, so it might not be feasible to create a new one. Plus, an atom that only lasts for a fraction of a second before violently exploding would woefully misrepresent my own sexual prowess, and I can't have that. So if you can't make a new atom that can be stimulated for days at a time before going off in your face, I suggest you just rename the entire periodic table of elements after me. It could be confusing at first having every element named Dick Valentinium, but hey, you're the guys who figured out how to split the atom, I'm sure you can handle this.
4. A pyramid. But not just any pyramid. This one needs to be bigger than all the other pyramids combined, because I want to fill it with all the other pyramids stacked on top of each other. I'd also like rooms for tennis courts, a swimming pool, and guest sarcophaguses for my friends if they stay over. Oh, and a fifteen car garage. And a zoo. And the parliament of the United Kingdom. It probably needs to be done by the end of the day, because it's kind of a dick move to unveil a monument in someone's honor the day after their birthday.
5. Gravity. I crave it. Deliver it to me, whole.
6. A harem, replete with every currently living woman between 18 and 40 who is unrelated to me. The age requirement isn't a hard rule. If you know a particularly hot minor or MILF, send them in. I can always keep the minors in the holding tanks until they ripen. The living and unrelated requirements ARE hard rules. If this is going to happen, all you guys need to start constructing the actual building (which might be pretty big) ASAP and all you women need to start marching over here with your daughters. I'll be relying on social workers to bring in all the sexy orphan girls. Now I don't want anyone to get alarmed about this. I'm not going to violate your or your loved ones. I happen to know that you peaked during your sophomore year of college, and I don't want anything to do with the whithered husks that were once your breasts, the stony ruin that is your mouth, or the arid crevasse from whence the blubbery carcasses of your daughters emerged gasping for their first diet coke and large fry. Unless, of course, you're a hottie, in which case I'm gona violate the shit out of you.
Note: Unless the list specifically mentions that I'd like more than one of the preceding items, please send a mail merge to everyone else in the world letting them all know if you are getting me something on the list so I don't up with 5,000,000 singing wall-mounted bass or the world's entire supply of grain or something like that. Don't laugh, it's happened before.
