My Personal Health Time Capsule

Through all of the senseless beatings of my youth inspired by my red hair and dauntingly asinine sarcasm, a few good memories still find their way through the repressed electrochemical signals of my brain and out of my mouth for all of the world to hear.

One of these memories comes from my elementary school’s ceremonial opening of a time capsule. It was fifty years since the opening of my school, and we gathered around in awe of all of the terrible ideas that could be brought to us straight from the past. I just got this stupid sheet of paper with numbers all over it, so I immediately burned it. My alcoholic father subsequently admitted himself to a mental institution where he spent his free time eating paint chips off of his cell walls and cursing Jesus for being so damn smug. Later, a group of aliens were caught profiting off of the sale of child pornography just before the entire earth was destroyed by a solar flare.

Good times.

But before my abusive father, Nicolas Cage, admitted himself to that hospital, he told me something I will never forget. “I killed your mother, but I couldn’t kill you because they put cameras inside my head so that I wouldn’t kill again. Also, aunt Jemima was adopted. She’s black, son, it should have been obvious.”

Those few words were the most inspirational words that my father ever told me. Before this, the longest conversation we had was “Son, I killed the cat. I shoveled it into the bag, but I’m not going to do all the work here. When you’re finished digging a hole, he’s behind Ben and Jerry in the deep freeze. By the way, you’re not allowed to register to vote.”

It was the former conversation that made me realize the importance of remembering your past, and telling your therapist everything even if it doesn’t seem relevant at the time. Nicolas Cage’s words have thus inspired me to make a personal time capsule- a time capsule of a very, very personal nature. I am going to document my current health, and then include a brief description of how I think my health will be when I am 40 years old in 2030. (This is assuming that Star Wars doesn’t come out with a movie worse than the Clone Wars, thereby causing myself to unavoidably commit suicide)

The Personal Health Time Capsule:

Now (Year 2010, Age: 2 years until I can legally get shitfaced)

1. General Body Type: Skinny as a mother fucker

2. Metabolic Rate: Faster than a hamster on methamphetamines

3. Anomalies:

• Anti-Semitism
• Actin' a Fool
• More white than CSPAN

Then (Year 2030, Age: 2 years before I will get laid, and one year after I adopted one thousand kittens and let them form a general democratic assembly to dictate my movements)

1. General Body Type: Skinny as a mother fucker

2. Metabolic Rate: Slower than a sloth on barbiturates

3. Anomalies:

• Anorexia
• Nihilism
• Kidney Stones
• The Cancer
• Seizures onset by the GOP
• Wet Dreams

This concludes my personal health time capsule, and I hope I, like Nicolas Cage, have inspired millions to look deep within their own souls and find out the true meaning of life. Oh Nicolas Cage: life, like your acting career, is one big mystery. How did we get here? What does it all mean? How does one man with the personal characteristics of a lively corpse with Down syndrome still get asked to make movies, and why can I not look away from the backstreet abortion that is his acting career?