Firemen Are Pussies

I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that no job I will ever have will provide me with the opportunity to be a hero. It seems a little unfair, then, that just by virtue of being employed in certain occupations as a fireman, for instance you’re suddenly considered one. You wouldn’t call me a doctor if you saw me in a hospital, or Chancellor of the Universe if I put my pants on before my shoes. Being a fireman is similar to doing one of these things. And everyone calling them heroes is like lying to retarded children.

If I walked down the street wearing a bright yellow coat and goggles, you wouldn’t call me a hero, you’d direct me to the nearest tickle fight, which you’d rightly assume I had not only organized, but had been eagerly anticipating participation in. After thanking you, I’d then go into the Glittery Pink Feather shop to buy things made out of lace.

And don’t even get me started on members of the armed services. That’s like a giant coward bomb full of failures. Here are the reasons for joining the military with their corresponding anti-heroic origins in parentheses:

  1. Having something to prove (insecure)
  2. Having nowhere else to go (human wasteland)
    My point is this: I’ll bet if I tried real hard, I could drop out of school and lose my job at the steel mill too. But I choose not to. Instead, I choose to read books rather than EATING THEM. I call it learning.

Some say it’s the unrelenting stalwartness in the face of danger that makes them heroes. Bullshit. There are three things a fireman thinks when he walks into a burning building:

  1. run away
  2. afraid
  3. they’re going to call me a hero for this
    Pussy, pussy, different kind of pussy.

So to the firemen and members of the armed services: we’re lying to you. Everyone at home is glad they don’t have to do what you do. Do you know how much fun watching a parade is? No. No you don’t because you’re always in them. Watching a parade is like having sex on a mountain of happiness. You may get to be on display, but you’re also walking seventeen miles down a road on a sunny day.