Pinkerton's Weblog

You Don't Buy a Cure For Cancer, You Just Rent It

From Yahoo News:

Cup of urine a day keeps ailments at bay

BANGKOK (AFP) - Drinking urine can eliminate sinus trouble, turn grey hair black and even cure cancer, a Thai academic said, citing a study of local Buddhists who engage in the unorthodox practice.

Ratree Cheepudomwit, of the Thai Traditional and Alternative Medicine Development Department, said hundreds of urine drinkers attested that consuming a daily cup worked wonders for their overall health and helped slow the ageing process.

She said that in June she queried 250 members of Santi Asoke, a strict indigenous Buddhist movement believed to have thousands of followers, and 204 respondents said they had learned from ancient Buddhist manucripts that drinking one's urine improved health.

"Of the respondents, 87 percent confirmed that it had head-to-toe benefits for them, including for example reduction of dandruff, grey hair, sinus problems and cancer," Ratree told AFP.

The medical elixir was not easy on everyone's system, as about one in 10 urine drinkers suffered diarrhea afterwards, but the practice should not be viewed with disgust, she said.

"Other groups of people who drank urine were Buddhist monks who practised in accordance to scriptures which are more than 2,500 years old," she said.

I love how these lunatics name-drop millennia-old Buddhists in their effort to make what they're doing sound completely non-retards, instead of what it is (retards). According to spokeswoman Ratree Cheepudomwit (or, as she is known in Jaytonia, Rat-Tree Cheeto-Dumbwit): "Other groups of people who drank urine were Buddhist monks who practised in accordance to scriptures which are more than 2,500 years old."

Well, I still don't see how drinking piss cures cancer if -- wait, did you say 'scriptures'? And '2,500 years old'? And, most essentially, 'monks'? Because every one of those words means 'unassailable fact' according to my Movie to Actual Reality Converter. All three of those words at once means that if I'm not drinking my own pee right now, it should only be because I'm working on a schematic for a hose that goes directly from my dick to my stomach.

They're bald, they meditate in a tower all day and they eat riceballs. Sit in your closet for thirty years eating nothing but rice and trying hard to think about not thinking. I guarantee after ten years you're drinking whatever comes out of you and convincing yourself it makes you Green Lantern.

If we were talking about ancient Native American tradition, we'd at least be getting told to eat boiled buffalo jerky or something. Buddhist monks don't own shit. It's not like they've got a lot of options in terms of possessions to endow with magical cancer-eradicating powers. Outside of 'robes', 'towers', 'prayer mats' and 'rice', their own urine is pretty much the only other thing a 2,500-year-old Buddhist monk could resonably collect. It's possible they invented all this crazy business about pee-drinking turning you into a rock star because they were just bitter everyone else on the planet was inventing actual medicine while they listened to rice boil on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere and wished their religion let them have actual shoes and nice hair cuts.

Honestly, fuck Buddhists. Assume for a second that it is true. That means those ratfuck bastards have had the cure for fucking cancer for over 2,500 years and didn't mention it once. Every time they had to come down from their mountain and collect alms so they could buy more rice and prayer rugs -- because as enlightened and better than us as they are, they still require everybody else to make sure they have food and clothing -- they didn't once say "Thanks for giving us free money, everyone. By the way, if you eat a bowl of poop you can cure leprosy with your mind."

The next time one of those orange towel-wearing lunatics comes up to me for change, I'm going to suckerpunch him in the stomach. They've been sitting on a billion dollar miracle cure for two millennia and they still need to ask me for a dollar at an airport. They make Wiccans look level-headed and sane, and Wicca's a religion composed entirely of hippies and fat teenage girls compensating for their intense need for cock. Wiccans are apparently more in tune with the Earth Goddess and Nature -- logic dictates they should be pumping out holistic miracle cures left and right. And I've never seen a witch drink her own goddamn pee. So maybe 2,500-year-old Buddhists didn't know what they were talking about, and just needed a better way to pass the time.

Live coverage of the Republican National Convention...

Jay Pinkerton here, in New York and corresponding via a live satellite feed connected directly through my blog.

Given the poor quality of the satellite (several duct taped oil drums and a coat hanger I successfully launched into space earlier this year), I have so far been unable to get a live hook-up.

As a substitute, I am uploading photos, live, as I take them, live, at the New York convention. I will also be supplying, live, ongoing commentary for this momentous political event:

Above, disabled New York Police Officer Donald Turner kicked off the evening not forty minutes ago, with an empassioned plea for our nation's youth to vote. Turner was crippled in 1992 through youth apathy.

Turner ended his speech by reading the Pledge of Allegiance, though would not take requests to rap it in a funny voice. Turner did eventually oblige repeated requests to sing the Lynnard Skynnard hit 'Free Bird' after I convinced him it would help interest teens in voting.

A visibly moved Republican National Committee Chairman Ed Gillespie later told me he often raps the Pledge of Allegiance to himself for "the calming effect" it has on him.

The Gatlin Brothers sang the national anthem just twenty minutes ago, the universal language of a baseball game about to start. Many in attendance were moved to tears when I told them it was about America, and that America was attacked by terrorists several years ago. From right to left: Tim 'Big Red' Gatlin, Jimmy 'Big Gunner' Gatlin, Jerry 'Big Mistake' Gatlin. Not shown: the power of song. Of note: Jimmy 'Big Gunner' Gatlin got high with me in the kitchen after, and was totally cool.

Soon after the national anthem was played, a large movie screen was ceremoniously lowered from the stage, where disabled New York Police Officer Donald Turner's moving speech from ten minutes before was once again played to restore flagging inspiration levels.

The dosage is tragically miscalculated, and toxic levels of inspiration rocks an unsuspecting crowd. Above: Rose Mason (54) and Gladys Harrison (72) go briefly insane as a result. Harrison was rushed to the hospital after eating her own hand.

The convention finally started not ten minutes ago. Everyone got so excited they all started talking at once (above). I said from the beginning that three podiums was a stupid idea — but no, the shirtless drunk guy can't be right, can he? Assholes.

Republican National Committee Chairman Ed Gillespie finds everyone present guilty of "voting responsibly". You had to be there, it was hilarious.

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-Jay Pinkerton
Dateline: five minutes ago, New York

Back of the Bible: The Book of Zephaniah

The Book of Zephaniah marks the latest entry in the ongoing Back of the Bible series. There's also a new intro page for the series here.