A 101 Year Old Marathon Runner Discovered The Secret Behind Limitless Energy!!!

You think I’m going to tell you? Get the hell out of here!

Yeah, I read the story. Marathon runner! A hundred and one, with my prostate every piss is a marathon.

Did I discover something? How would I know? I can’t remember what day it is. Where the hell am I?

Look, lady, I’m trying to run here. See that peak? I’m heading up there now. Say, what’s wrong with you? You’re panting like my spaniel.

These questions about what I eat and drink, what is that? Who cares what I eat and drink? For one thing, I’ve got no teeth. I haven’t been able to taste in years. My wife, when she’s mad at me, she could be feeding me ca ca, pardon my French.

She’s a hundred and fifteen, my wife. Don’t talk to her about my energy. All she cares about is my lack of energy. In the noodle, you understand, and I’m not talking about my head.

That’s her up there. Almost to the top of the peak. She runs ahead so she can get back and cook my dinner, God knows what that might be.

All my family runs. Hers too. My mother was running when I was born. She dragged me behind her by my umbilical cord. Don’t ask me if the placenta is a magic energy food. Remember, I didn’t have teeth back then, either.

You know that saying, the one about not getting old? It was a guy in his nineties said that. What the hell did he know? When I was ninety, I was… I was… What were we talking about? Why are you stopping? You’re gasping like a guppy. We’re no higher than twelve thousand feet or so.

Look, I can’t stop. Come for dinner.


Miracle Diet: The Wormhole

Before leaving on vacation, I want to share a truly amazing diet aid with you. For only $49,999, I will send you a small wormhole, no larger than a fishoil capsule. It comes with a remote, plus onboard digital intelligence.

Just swallow it and set your diet goal using the remote. Your wormhole will do the rest, from within your stomach. It’s that simple.

Eat all you want, literally. Pig out! And, if you change your weight goal, a click of the remote informs your wormhole of the fact.

Warnings and Limitations:

– Just as unwanted food can disappear into the wormhole, on rare occasions unwanted galactic vermin can emerge from the wormhole. Reference John Hurt, or Stephen King’s shit weasels, or, in a true WTF moment, yourself.

– Your unwanted food disappears not only from your stomach, but from your moment in time. In certain rare instances, you may wake up one morning weighing 500 pounds.

– Your heart, it won’t beat, it won’t beat the way it used to, and your lips, they won’t kiss, they won’t kiss the way they used to.

– If another wormhold offer catches your eye and you unwisely swallow the competitive capsule, so that two wormholes have occasion to content with each other, your warranty shall be null and void. In addition, you may find that you have been converted into an exact double of your spouse. He/she will not get along with himself/herself. Overweight though you may be, you’re better company than a damned dirty spouse clone.

The Classics Diet

Do you secretly want to lose weight, but you’d never admit it because you’re above all that? Diets are anti-intellectual? No diet includes quiche and Birkenstocks? Your spouse, the professor, would never use words like “fat,” “old,” “cow”?

Do you eat with your finger raised? Your pinkie, I mean? Your pinkie finger, I mean?

The Classics Diet is not a diet. It is a way of life. You read the classics, right? Not like those other slobs on your block, who watch TV and drink and go on diets? The Classics Diet is simply another name for what we call “Method Reading.”

Being so smart like you are, you undoubtedly know all about “method acting.” How De Niro gained all that weight? How Brando hung out on the docks? Well, you can do the same thing, Mr. or Ms Smartypants, while you’re sitting there in your beanbag chair reading, yes, wait for it, one of your goddamned precious classics. While you read, you live like the protagonist does. You eat what the protagonist eats. How hard is that to understand?

Monday – You are reading: Ulysses   You are eating: the inner organs of beasts and fowls.

Tuesday – You are reading: Galway Bay   You are eating: not potatoes, that’s for sure.

Wednesday – You are reading: Oliver Twist   You are eating: gruel.

Thursday – You are reading: Dracula   You are eating: bloodsickles.

Friday – You are reading: Black Beauty   You are eating: hay.

You’re not done yet, not if you’re one of those brainiacs with a reading list of great books that you’re working your way through. Keep up the method. You’re no quitter. All the way, to the end of the list. Alternatively, you can eat the books.