Among other telltale signs of dicklessness, the “man” in question was raving about an inevitable zombie apocalypse, perhaps uncertain if the end of the world would come as a result of this or happen afterward when there were no humans left. Or maybe he’s trying to say that the people currently living in Wburg are already zombies. Whatever the logic, if you’re going to do something “badass,” at least put some goddamn intent behind it.
Sometimes, there’s a reason for nature’s (you didn’t think I was going to say God, did you?) attempted eradication of a specific place. This time, she had it in for a certain dickless sect of NYC–Williamsburg. That’s right, Paris isn’t burning anymore. It’s now a document storage facility on Kent Avenue.
Sometimes, nature just wants to get rid of “men” without a dick
While a slew of firefighters, spraying out water from hoses that did nothing (won’t even touch the subtext there) except get blown away by the wind, worked all day on Saturday to rid the area of its blaze, Mother Nature, who saw fit to miraculously set some papers on fire at 6:20 a.m., was having none of it. She kept that shit going all day long. Maybe she’s trying to send a warning: Stop flaunting your dicklessness or suffer my wrath. And maybe next time Williamsburg won’t be getting off (non-sexually of course) so easy.
I suppose there’s nothing wrong with carefully sowing your wild oats before deciding to relegate yourself to one woman. But there’s a difference between youthful folly and an utter lack of expressing interest in anyone or anything other than your own visual pleasure. Being into and aroused by every woman you encounter is not only exhausting for all involved, but it also infers you’re probably riddled with all manner of sexually and socially transmitted diseases. So if you find your eyes bulging out at every pair of tits you see walk past you from Driggs to Kent, try to remember to have some motherfucking discernment.