Commercial Break: Facts About Ginger Death
Hello men and women of Gingerdom. This isn't the typical "how to survive if this random shit happens to you" article you may be used to. Imagine this as a commercial. More specifically one of those you see about some random medication. You watch for long enough and you see its canon of side effects whizzing by and you think to yourself “This list seems longer than all six introductions of Star Wars combined” (but you forgot the Family Guy ones...so nine. Then you add Spaceballs, so you just settle comfortably in your rolly chair with a ten).
Now imagine if you have been prescribed this medication six times a day for the past three years. "Oh crap," you think. Then the commercial went on to say "call now so we can sue the hell out of those responsible. We will keep most of the money ourselves but you can have enough to live like a slumdog-millionaire-rock-star for the remainder of what little time you have left."
Now this is the point where you get really, really excited. This article is kinda about that excitement.
But don't get too far ahead of yourself. The commercial that is your life has no lawyers pillaging the pharmaceutical industry for you. This commercial ends after the side-effects scene and after receiving the knowledge that you will be having a slow and painful death relatively soon. This article is about the opposite of said excitement.
This article is to help you realize you will die…
<insert "Duhn duhn duhhhhhhn">
…very, very soon.
On a lighter note, Billy Joel's Ginger step brother was kinda overshadowed by the rock icon status of his older sibling. However, one day when the boys were young, Billy was going through his routinely 5p.m. Ginger bashings. When he was about half-way through his repertoire, a joke was made about how there are no older Gingers alive. The Ginger step brother responded with "Only the good and Gingers die young."
Billy took this to heart and cut out the unnecessary parts and made a pretty successful song from his step-brother's Ginger wisdom.
Now I'm going to ask you a question that I want you to reflect on for a minute. Have you ever seen a 95 year old ginger? No? Didn't think so. What about 90? 85? 80? You are sure that they exist, but you just have never ran into one. In fact, they do not exist. They are dead. Tina Louise is the oldest known Ginger, pulling in an impressive late-seventies. She doesn't count for three reasons:
1. If she survived fifteen years of Gilligan's shenanigans and still remained sane, than she is most likely a robot.
2. For a Ginger, she is incredibly hot and must be in favor with the gods, and thusly got her Ginger-card taken away. A dedicated Ginger shuns all favor.
3. All of Gingerdom stopped watching Nick At Night reruns when they jealously realized she was probably sleeping with the professor.
Since it is evident that Miss Ginger ain't so Ginger and your Google search for old red hairded people brought you no easy tidings to bear, I am sure you are very shocked at the realization that just rocked your world.
The only thing equivalent I can think to compare a Ginger's lifespan to is an autistic goldfish's memory.
I give you 30-35 tops. Yeah, that's soon. But its ok because that is around the average lifespan of humans for most of known history i.e. before pharmaceuticals and doctors and aloe vera.
Off subject but I'm also pretty sure most Ginger babies are killed at birth. It's not really a stated or reported statistic but more of an unspoken understanding between the doctors and parents: nobody wants to be seen raising a ginger and doctors don't want to be known as the person to bring the plausible Anti-Christ into the world. Luckily, if the parents have pleasant memories of an old Gingery aunt or if they just want to watch the world burn, some Ginger-spawn remain in perfect health and continue their bumpy path to childhood.
Well not perfect health per say. They still suck at everything athletic. They will always have the brain power of kids three years younger. They will also be so clumsy that the chance of them falling off a cliff to their doom is a staggering 24%. Overdosing from skin cancer is a whopping 42%. Being beaten to a bloody, pulpy death by a flash mob is 14%. Being beaten to a bloody, pulpy death by more of an organized sort of mob is 15%. Drowning in a pool because we don't swim well and were thrown into the deep-end by our Ginger-loathing swim instructors...I would say 9%. Unexplainable self-explosions from excess rage in Ginger Rage meter is >1% (only a handful of known instances throughout history). Choking on popcorn at the movie theater and nobody trying to help you for fear of having to touch your overly-oily complexion ranks in at a 4%.
If none of the above happens to you, then you have two other options.
1. Suicide because a video game that you invested so much of your life in got deleted from your hard drive and you just can't comprehend a world worth living in without your level 99 Druid and its Studded Amulet of Roharra = 50%
2. Your next door neighbor and best friend from third grade (who at the time had bad acne, buck teeth, and no friends; but has since become quite popular, handsome, successful, and kind of a bore that isn't worth your time) felt awful about how pathetic you turned out so he convinced one of his Fraternity brother’s ex-girlfriend to drunkenly have sex with you and when you went to touch her bare booby, you felt as if you might have peed your pants, you let out a yelp that sounded like a suppressed fart, grabbed your chest with one hand, and had a heart attack before your other hand made contact with booby = 50%
So with the only short but eventful life we are all cursed with, I want to remind you to live a life worth living. Get outside (with copious amounts of sunblock, of course), make friends (the less they make fun of you the better), and never forget to smile (creepier the better to keep strangers at bay).
Think about this. Cherish it. Live fast, die soon.
Stay young Gingers.
Now imagine if you have been prescribed this medication six times a day for the past three years. "Oh crap," you think. Then the commercial went on to say "call now so we can sue the hell out of those responsible. We will keep most of the money ourselves but you can have enough to live like a slumdog-millionaire-rock-star for the remainder of what little time you have left."
Now this is the point where you get really, really excited. This article is kinda about that excitement.
But don't get too far ahead of yourself. The commercial that is your life has no lawyers pillaging the pharmaceutical industry for you. This commercial ends after the side-effects scene and after receiving the knowledge that you will be having a slow and painful death relatively soon. This article is about the opposite of said excitement.
This article is to help you realize you will die…
<insert "Duhn duhn duhhhhhhn">
…very, very soon.
On a lighter note, Billy Joel's Ginger step brother was kinda overshadowed by the rock icon status of his older sibling. However, one day when the boys were young, Billy was going through his routinely 5p.m. Ginger bashings. When he was about half-way through his repertoire, a joke was made about how there are no older Gingers alive. The Ginger step brother responded with "Only the good and Gingers die young."
Billy took this to heart and cut out the unnecessary parts and made a pretty successful song from his step-brother's Ginger wisdom.
Now I'm going to ask you a question that I want you to reflect on for a minute. Have you ever seen a 95 year old ginger? No? Didn't think so. What about 90? 85? 80? You are sure that they exist, but you just have never ran into one. In fact, they do not exist. They are dead. Tina Louise is the oldest known Ginger, pulling in an impressive late-seventies. She doesn't count for three reasons:
1. If she survived fifteen years of Gilligan's shenanigans and still remained sane, than she is most likely a robot.
2. For a Ginger, she is incredibly hot and must be in favor with the gods, and thusly got her Ginger-card taken away. A dedicated Ginger shuns all favor.
3. All of Gingerdom stopped watching Nick At Night reruns when they jealously realized she was probably sleeping with the professor.
Since it is evident that Miss Ginger ain't so Ginger and your Google search for old red hairded people brought you no easy tidings to bear, I am sure you are very shocked at the realization that just rocked your world.
The only thing equivalent I can think to compare a Ginger's lifespan to is an autistic goldfish's memory.
I give you 30-35 tops. Yeah, that's soon. But its ok because that is around the average lifespan of humans for most of known history i.e. before pharmaceuticals and doctors and aloe vera.
Off subject but I'm also pretty sure most Ginger babies are killed at birth. It's not really a stated or reported statistic but more of an unspoken understanding between the doctors and parents: nobody wants to be seen raising a ginger and doctors don't want to be known as the person to bring the plausible Anti-Christ into the world. Luckily, if the parents have pleasant memories of an old Gingery aunt or if they just want to watch the world burn, some Ginger-spawn remain in perfect health and continue their bumpy path to childhood.
Well not perfect health per say. They still suck at everything athletic. They will always have the brain power of kids three years younger. They will also be so clumsy that the chance of them falling off a cliff to their doom is a staggering 24%. Overdosing from skin cancer is a whopping 42%. Being beaten to a bloody, pulpy death by a flash mob is 14%. Being beaten to a bloody, pulpy death by more of an organized sort of mob is 15%. Drowning in a pool because we don't swim well and were thrown into the deep-end by our Ginger-loathing swim instructors...I would say 9%. Unexplainable self-explosions from excess rage in Ginger Rage meter is >1% (only a handful of known instances throughout history). Choking on popcorn at the movie theater and nobody trying to help you for fear of having to touch your overly-oily complexion ranks in at a 4%.
If none of the above happens to you, then you have two other options.
1. Suicide because a video game that you invested so much of your life in got deleted from your hard drive and you just can't comprehend a world worth living in without your level 99 Druid and its Studded Amulet of Roharra = 50%
2. Your next door neighbor and best friend from third grade (who at the time had bad acne, buck teeth, and no friends; but has since become quite popular, handsome, successful, and kind of a bore that isn't worth your time) felt awful about how pathetic you turned out so he convinced one of his Fraternity brother’s ex-girlfriend to drunkenly have sex with you and when you went to touch her bare booby, you felt as if you might have peed your pants, you let out a yelp that sounded like a suppressed fart, grabbed your chest with one hand, and had a heart attack before your other hand made contact with booby = 50%
So with the only short but eventful life we are all cursed with, I want to remind you to live a life worth living. Get outside (with copious amounts of sunblock, of course), make friends (the less they make fun of you the better), and never forget to smile (creepier the better to keep strangers at bay).
Think about this. Cherish it. Live fast, die soon.
Stay young Gingers.