Johnny TweezWasabi: Method Motivational Speaker

Below is a Transcript of Commencement Speech at Hirshwell's by Johnny TweezWasabi: Method Motivational Speaker

President Hirshwell, Members of the Hirshwell’s Corporation and the board of overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and of course, graduates of Hirshwell’s Community College at Night, I would like to begin by saying thank you. Thank you for allowing me to enrich your lives and become a major influence in your memories.

Most of you already know me from my motivational speeches and inspirational aura, but let me blow your minds by revealing that I haven’t always been so incredible. Just like you are now, I was at one time a lost cause, a frustrated young chap. I was constantly mad at myself for not accomplishing all I wanted to. I felt time was running out and I was moving too slowly for life itself. But then I discovered what would immediately give me the strength to overcome my problems. I discovered crystal meth.

Like you I was skeptical at first…but after crushing 14 boxes of Sudafed into fine powder, dumping the contents into a pitcher of An-hydrous ammonia with 4 unraveled alkaline batteries until it produced a rotten egg smell and fog, then pouring the mixture into a Ziploc bag, separating and pouring contents through coffee filters, filling a rinsed out 20 oz pop bottle 1/3 of the way with salt, cutting a hole in the top, inserting a fish hose, connected to the two original bags with the filtered contents, opening the bag to release the smoke so it doesn’t become stale, and waiting 2 to 3 hours for it to dry before shooting it into my veins, I was soon able to stay awake for 8-970 hours at a time.

Whereas I used to feel groggy, I suddenly had the adrenaline rush to complete all my homework as well as everyone else’s, paint houses, write novels, build ice sculptures, master ju jitzu and taekwando, play a 1 on 5 basketball game, learn every language in existence, and sell meth to all the young kids my community…all overnight. I’d gained a superpower and that superpower was identified in the urban dictionary as Smurf Dope.

Class of 2011, if you don’t believe me, I beg you to simply give Scooby Snax a try. I guarantee you won’t want to stop.

Dr. Seuss once said, “Oh the places you will go…if you smoke chank and cheebah.” Clearly he knew how to get things done. Are you ready to jump aboard the train to happiness town where skyscrapers are erected from powder monkeys and hope is not a myth, but rather a vat of Satan Dust?

All our lives we are taught to believe meth is a poor decision, but I learned something, and you soon will too: the most important lesson to learn after college graduation is that life isn’t about others making decisions for you, it’s about you shooting up on white crunch so you can feel like the king of the universe.

Graduating class, if I leave you with one message besides that it’s important to smoke baggers, I’ll leave you with this: If you are one the lucky few to discover your true passion in life, don’t run away from it, even if it explodes in your face because you didn’t stir the ammonia at the correct speed.

Allow me to explain. Soon after finding my calling, I put together a lab out in the desert so I could expose more people life’s wonderful solution. You’re welcome.

However, with most epiphanies come some epipha-nos. One day while cooking some happiness, I accidentally burned my entire face off. But like any true motivator, I persisted. I searched through the mushroom cloud that’d encompassed my lab, found a needle, and shot up. Six months later after a ridiculous amount of plastic surgery, I am here to tell you that I am still on meth, and still loving life.

Students, the reason I tell you this story is because many in this position might have given up. My friend who was running the lab with me actually quit meth altogether and left joy town. He went to a place where instead of having fun with meth, they just talked about all the times they used to have fun with meth. Excuse my tough love, but are you bored? Because I am.

Your time is limited, so don’t let the noise of after school specials and DARE programs drown out your desire to reach for the stars, especially if those stars look like some Sweet Ass Spinderella that you can smoke.

If you’d like to support my solution to life, please feel free to buy my meth or my CD, entitled Meth: Taking the “if” out of life, and also taking the “L-e” out of life and replacing it with “Meth.” The CD is available on i-tunes or in my new undisclosed basement lab in Chinatown.

Thank you for your time. Meth foreves.

$1400 / Common Rume w/ futon and small TV!

Wanta liv in ar common rume fore only $1400/mo?

A Coming Of Age Gangsta Tale

My friend, C, frequently says he’s gangsta: “Yo I’m gangsta, son!” He says it like it’s a self-affirmation: "I’m good enough, I’m strong enough, and doggonit, I’m gangsta son!" If you put your mind to it, you can believe anything you want to, son.

He'll say something like "you know how I do" because he's so aware of his own identity that he assumes everyone around him knows how he do. That must be wonderful to have so much self-awareness. And on top of that he also knows that the answer to "how he do" is a respectable one. He's like an apostle, unable to be swayed from his faith. He'll loudly explain "Son, you know how I do" and I'll say, "I know how you do. You read Spiderman and Batman and sit in your house on the weekends to play Call of Duty." And he'll say "Aight son, quit playin'" which is like saying, "The Lord forgiveth all, even thoseth who have fallen from grace."

We've had our differences. When I first met him he could see that I didn't feel gangsta so he yelled in my face: “Just relax! Motherfucka, RELAX!” and I said, "I’m trying, but I freaking out from the irony in this."

He has so much confidence he can’t see how I could lack it so he gives me the same advice he’d give himself. “Yo don’t take shit from no one, just tell that nigga to back the fuck up!” Whereas I'm a little skeptical. “Um, do I have to use the n-word? I don't really feel comfortable telling anyone to back the fuck anywhere. I'd prefer to chiggity check myself before I wriggity wreck myself." Don't get me wrong, I understand that words can never hurt me, but they can inspire someone to hit my bones with sticks and stones and AK-47 bullets.

One thing I've come to learn through acceptance and self-awareness is that I don’t want to be gangsta. Not because I can't be gangsta (I mean, we all know how I do), but rather, because these top five reasons why gangstaism does not work for me:

1.) Gangstas spend quite a bit of money on champagne and almost immediately waste it by pouring the champagne on their bitches. I don't like to waste. There are people starving in China who would be more than appreciative about that champagne. Also I pay close attention to hygiene and pouring champagne all over one's body can lead to rashes and other health issues.

2.) Gangstas often need clothing that displays their gang colors. I cannot stand shopping and also some days I don't have many outfits to choose from since most of my clothes are in the hamper. I'd rather not get shot because my blue bandana is still getting washed at the laundromat.

3.) Gangstas appear very concerned with pimping out their ride. I, on the other hand, am looking for something fuel efficient. I'm not all about money. I'm also about the environment and protecting it and understand that if my car is not weighed down by expensive rims and a $10,000 sound system that I can do my part for the ozone layer.

4.) Similarly, gangstas appear very concerned with pimping out their crib. I don’t care what kind of leopard print carpeting the interior designer uses for my bedroom as long as an actual leopard is not harmed.

5.) Gangstas must be angry on a frequent basis and must communicate via yelling. I prefer to designate my energy elsewhere, such as into comedy writing or filmmaking. However, while I have little interest in shooting people for their money, I am not totally against shooting them because they’re annoying.

Despite this list, I learned a powerful lesson about my friend C.

One night at a comedy club I got offstage and C said, “yo that blond was laughing hard at your shit. You should hollar at that bitch.” I understood he meant: that I should shout loudly at a ho, but he said it casually like I was hollar certified. I said, "Hold on, I just need to 'drop it like it’s hot' and 'ride dirty back to 8-mile.' Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now?"

I was put off. I felt insecure. I thought, "I’m not really the type to holler at a bitch. My voice cracks. I can yodel at a bitch, or nod and murmur at a bitch, or even talk extensively about my favorite movies with a bitch, but I don't want to meet a bitch, let alone holler at one. If I hollar I want it to be special. None of this 'Damn girl you got a big ol’ booty.' That could be construed as offensive."

But then I thought, "The world is made up of so many people with so many different points of view, dialects, and voices, all of them incredible in their own way. C has wonderful advice and I shouldn't dismiss it just because he speaks in gangsta tongue. When C says 'hollar at that bitch' he is simply trying to communicate that I should 'go over and speak with that nice young lady because we might hit it off since she seems to enjoy my sense of humor.'"

And then I thought, "I don’t want to be at my deathbed and realize I should’ve hollared this whole time. I should feel confident, knowing that C thinks of me as someone who can adeptly hollar at a bitch. He didn’t sound sarcastic when he said it to me. Rather than think less of C I should give myself more credit. I do have the power to hollar at a bitch. I should show C gratitude. I should tell him 'Thank you for saying I can hollar at a bitch.'" It was as if he’d given me a key to gangsta city and was letting me do as I pleased. Obviously I’d avoid certain alleyways, but for the most part, I was free to do as I pleased.

So I approached the attractive blond and her friends, waved, and said, “Hey Bitches…" And that's how I met your mother. Good night son.

Throughout my life I feel like I've had several heroes I often haven't acknowledged in my mind. My dad has been a hero of mine, but I didn't realize it at first because I only recognized his faults, or rather, our dissimilarities. When he woke me up in the morning by singing Broadway tunes or reached back from the front seat of the car to stop my brother and I from fighting, I tallied up the instances and painted him as a negative force in my life. The same with my mother, and until recently my brother.

I had friends growing up and still have friends today who act as heroes of mine, but because of my pride I'm often afraid to define them as heroes. Calling them heroes seems to give them a higher ranking than me in life's hierarchy. But I realize they've been my heroes. I've looked up to them, I've often imitated subtleties in their actions and inflections in their voices, and even repeated whole movements and phrases because I saw how it worked for them and believed it would help me improve if I did the same. In this way, they have been Gods to me.

God seems to be a word some use to describe the attractions of the universe, while others use it to describe chaos. For some he is a very strong image in their mind, for others he is shapeless, impossible to even imagine. I use “he” to describe God only because it’s more convenient when explaining my point, but God is genderless, or a specific gender depending what guides you.

God is necessary to survive and though some may reject his existence, faith in God exists in all our lives in some form or another. Every self-help book gives us something to believe in: smile every day and fake it till you make it, or set specific goals so you have something to reach for. We put just as much faith into these ideas as an ultra orthodox Jew puts into the words of the Torah. While one believes that the Boston Celtics winning the NBA championship will bring happiness, another believes the same results will occur after the extermination of homosexuality. Several years ago Boston was a town of losing sports teams. There was a curse that had to be broken and we were led to believe that it would take 100 years to break.

A curse is just the mind’s way of saying there is no God or that God is dead or that God wishes ill upon you. If one feels cursed then he or she merely doesn’t believe in him or herself. No one is cursed as long as they have faith, and faith is simply, one’s desire to go on and experience life. One can lose faith for a variety of reasons. If someone cheats on a guy, he might lose interest in meeting anyone else, or in other words, he might lose faith that there is reason to the universe, especially if he doesn’t examine the cause and effect of his life in detail. However, he doesn’t have to analyze. He just needs to change the dynamics and definitions of his faith. Whereas before he may of thought it impossible for someone to cheat on him, now he must realize that it is possible, but preventable, and that cheating is not yet confirmed to be a definite in every relationship.

That ability to redefine your faith differentiates you from a fanatic who follows a strict image and code that cannot be broken, someone who doesn’t understand that the universe is shifting around them.

However, one might also say that if you don’t back down from your beliefs then the universe will shift at your command.

Whether the definition of your God changes or not, the faith must remain strong in order to remain happy and in order to keep a strong faith one must remain happy. Happiness and faith seem to be the same and so when we pray to God to end suffering around the world, or help our favorite sports team win the championship, or get some guy or girl to like us, we’re simply asking a controllable universe to grant us happiness. If the universe were uncontrollable then what would be the point? Even those who believe in predestination still believe that their place in the afterlife can be controlled. So control is always present in the mind of someone who is faithful. It’s those who have no faith who feel everything is out of their control, the world is chaotic, happiness is beyond their reach, no one can save them, until they’ve lost site of any sort of direction or reason for existence.

This is why the need for religion is understandable, yet the conflicts amongst various religious groups is laughable.

If you don’t have a strong sense of who you might take it out on others. When I’m onstage telling jokes that I’ve told so many times the reason for humor has escaped me, I tend to lose drive, and I am distracted by anything and everything in my path. Someone texting on their cell phone might inspire a tirade. A heckler might lead me to believe that all audiences are bad. God is simply the ability to know what you want in this world be strong enough (faithful enough, strong minded enough, focused enough) to get it. Sometimes I write a new joke and for me that new joke acts as God for the night, delivering me past any distractions or reason for negativity.

God is simply coal in our fuel tanks, which probably explains why those who are bad on Christmas get coal, so they no longer drift from faith, but rather steam roll and accelerate toward their goals and happiness.

Beheading Video

BEHEADING VIDEO GONE WRONG!

Terrorism isn't as easy as it looks...

How to Sound Insecure When You’re Trying To Get People To Read Your How-To Article

Hey so I don’t really know much about the subject, but I guess I could maybe give you some dumb advice on how to sound insecure. That’s if you care about what I have to say, which I don’t know why you would. I’m stupid. And I smell bad.

1.) I kind of guess the first step to sounding insecure might be something like adding “I don’t know” to everything you say, but I don’t really have a clue. Am I convincing you yet? Probably not. I’m a nincompoop.

2.) If you’re still reading this poor excuse for an article, I’m so sorry for wasting moments of your life you can never get back. (This isn’t really a tip. I just feel really bad).

3.) Do you think I’m dumb? I don’t believe you. I think you think I’m dumb. It’s ok. I’m pretty dumb.

4.) If you want to sound insecure then maybe you could sort of stare at the ground every time you say anything. Right? Sorry.

5.) Seriously, do you think I’m dumb? I’m not going to believe whatever you say.

Don't Try And Fuck Me

Two Men. One Bed.