he got joo-joo eyeball, he one holy roller

Few things make me happier than the knowledge that, from this day forward, anytime you hear the song “Come Together” — either the Beatles or Aerosmith version, I’m not picky — you won’t be able to get past the part that goes “come together, right now, over me” without immediately thinking about bukkake, and then thinking “that’s fucking gross,” and then thinking about me.

“God damn you, Jeremy, for putting that in my head” you’ll whisper. “Next time I hear this odd yet catchy song, I will not think about disgusting bukkake” you’ll pledge to yourself as if to show me up. But the next time comes* and surprise! You did it again.

Eventually though, you won’t be revulsed by the thought and will even begin to find it funny. Maybe it will bring us closer, you and me, and wouldn’t that be swell? And you’ll hear the song and every time they hit the chorus you’ll smirk a little, maybe even laugh a bit if you’ve got some liquor in you, and the people around you will wonder what the hell is so funny.

“What the hell is so funny?” they’ll ask.

And you’ll tell them (as if you came up with it yourself, because you’re like that and steal other people’s funny all the time, but I don’t mind so much so no worries) and they’ll be revulsed. And the next time they hear it, they’ll curse your name but, eventually, they’ll find it funny, too. And so on and so forth.

It’s my way of paying it forward this new year. You’re welcome.