Ever woken up in a tub of ice, plus one scar and minus one kidney?
I’m lucky that this inconvenient side effect of being young and dumb and drunk and hanging out with questionable Europeans providing questionable recreationals in questionable locales – was never one I experienced. In fact, as I sift through my historical chronological baton-pass of bad decisions that was my lifestyle choice for so long, I come to one conclusion: I’ve had a horseshoe up my ass for much of my life. Luckily, no one’s tried to extract it – or anything else vital to carrying on with my living of life – yet. But, sometimes (usually when the rent and bills go up), I remember that movie Dirty Pretty Things and just kinda wonder – how much is this viscera I can’t even see really worth?
For how many months could its expulsion from my body cover my mastercard bill?
I mean, the Hindu guru that I don’t have would definitely tell me about how true abundance comes from within. So why not get an appraisal for the meat machine factory parts that I can’t even feel until something happens like their tubes getting rock raped with crystalized crap I have to wait to piss out? #KidneyStonesAreWorseThanTheChildbirthIRefuseToEndure
Indeed, someone took the time to research the cost of “an arm and a leg”.
I heard in another piece that the heart can actually go for as much as a solid mill.
But that’s probably at the other end where there’s a desperate rich person trying to Jack Bauer his own cardiac ticker with dollars into not blowing up. Not surprisingly, on the black market, those major parts like your heart and liver and eyeballs are most expensive. Why? Because those lights on the Christmas tree of life are the first to dim once mostly lifestyle-choice maladies start to eff you up – like diabetes and heart disease and so on. And as the infographic shows, just one bad staff apple at the funeral home can farm your parts out for pay. Dude, I feel like I should just set up deadsy organ-selling now in my will. If they’re getting taken anyway, at least I can claim dibs on them now and demand money for my peeps later.)
But let’s backtrack. Rewind. Put a pencil in the cassette tape hole and slowly turn.
Is anyone else realizing the black market exists mostly because people are trying to prolong a life that they made shitty putting shitty shit in their bodies for most of it before these foreign organs?
Why pay some underground doc to prolong a life of pain or breathing through tubes?
Eff that shiz. That’s dumber than putting money out to replace the transmission on a car that’s crapping out anyway. It’s all ending soon anyway. Spend your money having fun if you have that much to waste. You’re gonna die just like me – except sooner, probably. So my advice is to fillet your funds – not your bod – and enjoy what’s left of what you’ve got instead of excising the fun outta it like a liver from a roofied coed.
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Fit young cannibals « Miss Ashley Pants
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