Imagine there being so many dance/talent shows on television that every single person in America is a contestant on one – forever.
Imagine Taylor Swift getting dumped but instead of writing another generic pop-country song, she tears the man’s throat out like Patrick Swayze in Road House – forever.
Imagine P. D. Montgomery utilizing overly complex wording and aureate language to illustrate his ardent partiality towards the stuff he watches on Netflix all day while drinking bourbon in his underpants – forever.
Imagine a woman in Brooklyn giving birth to an original Joy Division vinyl LP wearing a paisley fedora – forever.
Imagine Buzzfeed doing a list of “The 25 Things About Buzzfeed That Buzzfeed Loves to Buzzfeed About” and the internet collapsing in on itself – forever.
Imagine a skeletal Joey Chestnut eating hotdogs – forever.
Imagine Tom Brady finally seeing himself in one of those Ugg ads and putting a loaded revolver in his mouth – forever.
Imagine that one scene from The Amazing Spider Man where Dennis Leary just unloads round after round of buckshot into the Lizard and it’s fucking awesome but kinda sucks because you know he’s going to die anyway – forever.
Imagine sitting next to that one coworker who only remembers one line of each current pop hit but likes to sing it out loud at random intervals throughout the day until you try to dig the lyrics out of your brain with a power drill – forever.
Imagine CNN becoming a channel where a bedraggled and haunted Wolf Blitzer just reads the Google News RSS into a webcam – forever.
Imagine George R. R. Martin drinking your tears out of a beer stein – forever.
Imagine Ricky Gervais giggling at one of his own jokes on some talk show for way too long, but then we cross-disolve to him giggling in a padded room in a mental hospital because our entire universe is just in his shattered mind – forever.
Imagine watching an episode of BroCast where you think Eric is actually wearing a nice tie, but then it zooms in and you realize it’s a human foot tied to his neck with twine – forever.
Imagine what, after four Halo games, Master Chief’s armor must smell like – forever.
Imagine waiting for the 6 train in the summer and you get that one drop of sweat that rolls slowly down the small of your back to your buttcrack – forever.
Imagine seeing Christina Hendricks naked, but she has no nipples – forever.
Imagine sometime, when the team is up against it and the breaks are beating the boys, you go out there with all you’ve got and win just one for the Gipper, but then find out the Gipper was banging your girlfriend – forever.
Imagine getting a lap dance from a really hot stripper who genuinely likes you, but she gets carried off by one of those giant eagles from The Lord of the Rings – forever.
Imagine Michael Bay as the next pope – forever.
Imagine Jean Louise having her greatest fantasy come true, but then realizes with a scream of despair that, without stupid people, there’s no one to pick beans for her coffee – forever.
Imagine Chris Christie and Rand Paul screaming in each others faces really loud and then they just start making out really hard – forever.
Imagine a homeless guy squatting on his seat on the subway to shit but instead a Faberge egg comes out, though it still smells like poop – forever.
Imagine you’re on a Japanese game show – forever.
Imagine riding atop an MQ-1 Predator UAV like it’s Falkor – forever.
Imagine Miley Cyrus opening her mouth to sing at the Super Bowl, but no sound comes out except an atonal hum like distant machinery – forever.
Imagine Alex Rodriguez waving a cowboy hat and hollering astride a nuclear bomb as it falls from a B-52 above the Baseball Hall of Fame – forever.
Imagine the 1992 LA Riots reenacted by thousands of drunk toddlers – forever.
Imagine your doctor losing his flexible sigmoidoscope inside of you – forever.
Imagine Lee Powers tearfully muttering “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds” after being forced to ride Citibike to save a puppy wearing people clothes – forever.
Imagine Bode Miller reading Catcher in the Rye out loud to Ryan Lochte – forever.
Imagine a man trying on a pair of jackboots to stamp on human faces with and they’re really comfortable but a bit overpriced and he can’t justify buying them on his salary, so he goes home but really regrets not splurging a little on good jackboots so he goes back the next day but they’re all sold out and they won’t restock until next month – forever.
Imagine that scene from The Crying Game except when Stephen Rea gets down to where the vagina should be, it’s just WWII veteran and author E. B. Sledge smoking a pipe and shaking his head in disappointment – forever.
Imagine somebody sticking a pin in Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and he rapidly deflates like a sturdy ballon, flying haphazardly around the room making fart noises – forever.
Imagine if you woke up one day to find your life was a combination of Glee and Groundhog Day – forever.
Imagine not putting the lotion in the basket – forever.
Imagine an episode of Law & Order: SVU that’s just a forty-two minutes of Ice-T explaining what happened to Lehman Brothers – forever.
Imagine every single Facebook comment and post starting with “I’m not racist, but…” – forever.
imagine tommy moon forgoing all punctuation and capitalization while screaming obscenities at his ipad forever
Imagine Anthony Wiener dying in exactly the same way as James Cagney’s character in White Heat – forever.
Imagine some Islamic extremist group releases a video where they behead someone, but when they do a bunch of those gag spring snakes pop out instead of blood – forever.
Imagine an ironic handlebar mustache on a human face – forever.
Imagine me naked – forever.
I don’t get it.
And you’re supposed to be the literary one.
Don’t be hatin on my human foot tie.
Imagine that video of the female army MP bawling and screaming after being pepper sprayed, but instead of hitting strike pads, she’s hitting David Petraeus – forever.
Petraeus has that same dream every night.