Edna Explains Why Old People are Better in Bed

My Grandma Edna always try to tell me why she is waaaay better in bed than young women. I tell her, "No you are old, and your vagina is scary and probably full of antique furniture."

She takes every opportunity to brag to me about how she had sex with the Harlem Globetrotters, and Martin Luther King Jr, and how she used to get launched out of a cannon naked in a Philippino sex show. She brags about having slept with a wild gang of walruses, and having invented ecstasy. 

I am so over it. I filmed her ranting on our way to Rite-Aid to get her jumbo sized tub of Butt-ol, and this is what she had to say...

Louis C.K. I Love You - A Louis Love Letter

Dear Louis C.K.,

I love you. 

I know you don't really believe in marriage anymore, but in a metaphorical-non-legally-binding-no-expectations kinda way, I want to marry you. 

Top Ten Reasons I love you Louis C.K....

1.  The gentle glow of your balding ginger head seems to beg me for smooches and pats. The carrying out of which would fulfill my maternal instincts in alluring new ways. 

2. Your resigned attitude on life. Reality made you work for so long before rewarding you. Along the way it seems like you detached your Self from all hope, emotions and long-lasting narratives of meaning...much like the great Buddah. I find your feelings of meaninglessness very transcendental, and your wisdom, well, grrrrowwwl.

3. You are the perfect amount of fat.

4. The consistency of your wardrobe makes me feel emotionally secure.

5. Shall I compare the cadence of your masculine voice to the sweetness of a Mozart symphony? And yet, its good humor rivals the french cacophony of Karl Lagerfeld's trademark slur. The paradox of which, is a divine pleasure to my heart and mind.

6. You have this twinkle in your kind eyes that connects me to the sublime consciousness. Even when your mouth is talking about rape, and slave-ownership, somehow, I trust your spirit is shouting LOVE. 

7. I could imagine you taking in a homeless whore off the streets like Van Gogh, and warming her soul and mind with the generosity of non-judgmental spirit. For some reason, that gets me viscerally excited. 

8. You are a maverick. You are revolutionizing the business of comedy through your innovative takes on c.d. sales and live shows. You are like that primordial hunter in the tribe that discovered how to run bison off of cliffs for an easier kill. 

I wrote an article on it here...

9. Sex with you would be sensory. Sweat, pudge, donut residue...Anthony Bourdain's pallat would weep with envy. 

Reasons to Love Heather Rushworth

There are many benefits to marrying me.

TOP REASON: I am 26 and in my sexual prime which is needless to say... fun to be around. My womb emits glorious good feeling energy around the clock in the hopes of getting men to fornicate with it. I don't really know if wombs have hopes and dreams, but if they did, mine would want to get close to you. 

2. I am college educated. I have a degree from U.C.L.A. and seven thousand dollars in student loans you could help me out with.

3. We have the same skin coloring. You wouldn't feel pressured to sunbathe in Barbados with me.

4. James Franco grabbed my boob once, and he liked it. That gives me some sexual street cred.

Madonna's MDNA Tour is Breaking Ball-Busting Records

Check out my Exec Digital article here...

http://www.execdigital.com/entertainment/celebrities/madonnas-mdna-tour-to-break-all-time-sales-record

Or retweet it here...

Madonna to break all time grossing record fo MDNA tourhttp://bit.ly/PZ3k8h  What a hero to power women everywhere! #celebrity#music

Follow me on Twitter @heathrrushworth

The Noble Fight

Coffee woooheee, I want it all for me. I like to think of myself as a flame-throwing revolutionary, but I think the only realistic occurrence that would make me hit the streets and march is a prohibition on coffee. No measure would be too great. I'd go into hand to hand combat with a Colombian Cartel Lord to secure a can of the dark devil. But hey, I come from a long line of Polygamist Mormons, so for me, every caffeinated sip is like an unshackling of my once morbidly obedient soul.

The things in life that matter are the things you fight for. Whether the fight be against a person, a government, or your own long programmed, rigid morality, is entirely up to you and your individual preferences. For some people, Crack use is galaxies away, for others, it is as easy as crossing the hall. And knocking on the door of their neighborhood crack dealer. The one who lingers at the single entrance of the apartment building, in his urine stained sweat pants, hissing out of his two cracked teeth, "Hey there you little piece of chicken, you little piece of dog sh*t, wanna buy some crack b$tch?"

For those people, not doing crack is enough of a fight to survive. Believe it or not, it takes a lot of soulful energy to maneuver you way out of the path of a crack dealer, and even more to say no to the dealer when he inevitably pops up in your shower hissing, "Hey b*tch! I thought I said, Do you wanna buy some crack?"

So why we judge people based upon their status in life is a total mystery to me. Every person is fighting for their life in one way or another. If your life is so privileged that "fighting for your life" means arguing with the valet guy for changing the Sirus radio station in your 2012 Land Rover, then well, you aren't fighting for your life, you are fighting for your soul. In many ways, you are worse off than that crack dealer, because the price tag on your urine stained pants resulting from your Oxycontin addiction, reads THE EARNINGS OF THE AVERAGE FAMILY OF SIX IN NORTH KOREA FOR A YEAR.

But in the end, those are just numbers and you too, deserve sympathy. Sympathy for mustering up the courage to try and make sense out of the chaos of modern life. And I say you deserve even more sympathy if you go even farther, and try and derive beauty and meaning out of all of it, out of any of it.
Noble are the souls who look for the rainbow between their neighbor's two cracked teeth.

Is TV the Antichrist?

IMAGE: Kill Your T.V. by Heather Rushworth

This is a picture I drew on a post-it, of an infant watching his favorite television show.

Is it just me, or are TV's and Satan a lot alike? Actually, the television like Satan, has many redeeming qualities. For one, they both make awesome babysitters.

Maybe I am alone here, but whenever given sole-responsibility of a child, I hand the kid straight over to the supervision of Uncle Television Set.

Because chances are, the void-box will do a much better job than me at keeping the attentionally-retarded (new scientific term?) kid interested, if not fascinated. Which is very helpful when aiming to not have the kid stick his hand in a pot full of boiling water, or drop an axe on his brother's head, or start a child drug cartel that smuggles boatloads of crack cocaine over the international equator. Which are all actual things that have happened to me, while I was "supervising" children on my babysitting watch.

By "supervising" children I mean watching television myself.

But in all honesty, I think the TV may be the Anti-Christ.

Think about it, TV's are black (satanics love that color) boxes that sit in everyone's home, sometimes in every room (like your conscience.) Their very presence is magnetic; they look like big black magnets. I dare you to walk into any room and not notice the television first. They are like a scantily clad single mother at an Easter church service. Seductive! No decent hard-working American, even knows how a television set actually works.

How do those tiny people fit in those little scenes? How are we sure our television sets aren't watching us? We aren't. We aren't even certain that these "inventions" aren't the products of evil lawn gnomes plotting to hijack our imaginations while they plan a new Astroturf world.

Some days, if you listen closely enough, you can hear your television silently begging you to turn it on, to give it some attention. You know the voice, it sounds like, "Come on Steve Baby, turn me on! Watch me, I'll entertain you! I'm not like your wife. I won't bore you with emotions or nag you about the unpaid water bill." Like a delicious sinful apple, you know you shouldn't turn the television on. You know its bad for you. You know it will suck you in and steal every moment of your pressure-filled, unsatisfying life. Yet you turn it on anyways and chances are, you are glad that you did.

Brother, That is what makes the television a sin. Sinning by nature, is totally fun and awesome. You will never regret having sex, or doing smack, or stealing your neighbor's wife and selling her on the black market and you will never regret watching that eleventh straight hour of Ghost Hunters. But does that mean it is right? Does that mean it is bettering the planet? I don't remember anyone finding a cure for AIDS while watching Melrose Place. I do however, remember one of my favorite Melrose Place characters Matt, contracting AIDS which made me not only aware of the disease, but inspired real compassion in me for the cause. I even donated five dollars in a bucket outside a Ralphs in 2005. Which inevitbly made me five dollars poorer and didn't bring his character back to life like I had so naively believed.

Just think of what you look like watching TV. You sit there, curtains drawn, mouth all a-gape, flipping through channel after channel of people's lives that aren't your own, wishing you had a limo full of Kardashians feeding you grapes or a "best friend" like Oprah's Gale buying you strap-on toys.

However, to the neighborhood Peeping-Tom peering through your window, you just look like a dumpy, ineffective loser, slobbering in the dark at a box of flashing light, brainwashed by the manipulations of a demonic robot, who seduces you with sexy images of the new Taco Bell Beefy Crunch Burrito.

According to Estheisians 15:17 "That is exactly what Adam looked like to God, when he ate that apple while ogling Eve's boobies."

Televisions like Satan, don't want us to do bad, they just don't want us to do good. They want to beat God at his own game. If they can keep you in a catatonic, invalid state, Mountain Dew dripping out of your mouth as you laugh at a child getting hit in the nuts on American Funniest Home Videos, then you can't be out doing God's work.

Converting Muslims to Mormonism.

Did you know you are actually in the same psychological state as when you are in coma, when you are watching television? The images are so relaxing your brain shuts off from judging data as relevant and instead it just lets the data stream in unprotected, going straight into our unconscious and thus shaping our beliefs and perceptions of the world entirely.

We have to be more perceptive to the truth! Or else who is going to blindly elect or presidents and unintentionally fight our wars?

Anyways, don't trust your television sets. They aren't the friendly neighborhood grannies they would have you believe they are. The cookies they entice you with, aren't real, and if you fall into the temptation, you will be left with an empty, gnawing feeling in your stomach and a mouth full of electrical circuits and high voltage plastic.

Which oddly enough are the mystery ingredients in Taco Bell's new Beefy Crunch Burrito.

Namaste.

Lewis Thomas's 1974 Essay, Computers

I just found this essay in a 1970s reader of essays. I typed this motha fucka up after I couldn't find it anywhere else on the web. It is eerily predictive of the evolution of mass communication. Remember, this was written in 1974! Before internet, before personal computers, before Facebook!

Computers

by Lewis Thomas, 1974

You can make computers that are almost human. In some respects they are superhuman; they can beat us at chess, memorize whole telephone books at a glance, compose music of a certain kind and write obscure poetry, diagnose heart ailments, send personal invitations to vast parties, even go transiently crazy. No one has yet programmed a computer to be at two minds about a hard problem, or to burst out laughing, but that may come. Sooner or later, there will be real human hardware, great whirring, clicking cabinets intelligent enough to read magazines and vote, able to think rings around the rest of us.

Well maybe, but not for a while anyway. Before we begin organizing sanctuaries and reservations for our software selves, lest we vanish like the whales, here is a thought to relax with.

Even when technology succeeds in manufacturing a machine as big as Texas to do everything we recognize as human, it will still be, at best, a single individual. This amounts to nothing, practically speaking. To match what we can do, there would have to be 3 billion of them with more coming down the assembly line, and I doubt that anyone will put up the money, much less make room. And even so, they would all have to be wired together, intricately and delicately, as we are, communicating with each other, talking incessantly, listening. If they weren't at each other this way, all their waking hours, they wouldn't be anything like human, after all. I think we're safe, for a long time ahead.

It is in our collective behavior that we are most mysterious. We won't be able to construct machines like ourselves until we've understood this, and we're not even close. All we know is the phenomenon: we spend our time sending messages to each other, talking and trying to listen at the same time, exchanging information. This seems to be our most urgent biological function; it is what we do with our lives. By the time we reach the end, each of us has taken in a a staggering store, enough to exhaust any computer, much of it incomprehensible, and we generally manage to put out even more than we take in. Information is our source of energy; we are driven by it. It has become a tremendous enterprise, a kind of energy system of its own. All 3 billion of us are being connected by telephones, radios, television sets, airplanes, satellites, harangues on public-address systems, newspapers, magazines, leaflets dropped from great heights, words got in edgewise. We are becoming a grid, a circuitry around the earth. If we keep at it, we will become a computer to end all computers, capable of fusing all the thoughts of the world into a syncytium.

Already, there are no closed, two-way conversations. Any word you speak this afternoon will radiate out in all directions, around town before tomorrow, out and around the world before Tuesday, accelerating to the speed of light, modulating as it goes, shaping new and unexpected messages, emerging at the end as an enormously funny Hungarian joke, a fluctuations in the money market, a poem, a simply long pause in someone's conversation in Brazil.

We do a lot of collective thinking, probably more than any other social species, although it goes on in something like secrecy. We don't acknowledge the gift publicly, and we are not as celebrated as the insects, but we do it. Effortlessly, without giving it a moment's thought, we are capable of changing our language, music, manners, morals, entertainment, even the way we dress, all around the earth in a year's turning. We seem to do this by general agreement, without voting or polling. We simply think our way along, pass information around, exchange codes disguised as art, change our minds, transform ourselves.

Computers cannot deal with such levels of improbability, and it is just as well. Otherwise, we might be tempted to take over the control of ourselves in order to make long-range plans, and that would surely be the end of us. It would mean that some group or other, marvelously intelligent and superbly informed, undoubtedly guided by a computer, would begin deciding what human society ought to be like, say, over the next five hundred years or so, and the rest of us would be persuaded, one way or another, to go along. The process of social evolution would then grind to a standstill, and we'd be stuck in today's rut for a millennium.

Much better we work our way out of it on our own, without governance. The future is too interesting and dangerous to be entrusted to any predictable, reliable agency, We need all the fallibility we can get. Most of all, we need to preserve the absolute predictability and total improbability of our connected minds. That way we can keep open all the options, as we have in the past.

It would be nice to have better ways of monitoring what we're up to so that we could recognize change while it is occurring, instead of waking up as we do now to the astonished realization that the whole century just past wasn't what we thought it was, at all. Maybe computers can be used to help in this, although I rather doubt it. You can make simulation models of cities, but what you learn is that they seem to be beyond the reach of intelligent analysis; if you try to use common sense to make predictions, things get more botched up than ever. This is interesting, since a city is the most concentrated aggregation of humans, all exerting whatever influence they can bring to bear. The city seems to have a life of its own. If we cannot understand how this works, we are not likely to get very far with human society at large.

Still, you'd think there would be some way in. Joined together, the great mass of human minds around the earth seems to behave like a coherent, living system. The trouble is that the flow of information is mostly one-way. We are all obsessed by the need to feed information in, as fast as we can, but we lack sensing mechanisms for getting anything much back. I will confess that I have no more sense of what goes on in the mind of mankind than I have for the mind of an ant. Come to think of it, this might be a good place to start.

Gay Genes or Gay Jeans? Science decides.

<-----Cartoon Quote, "Your Blood Pressure reads 120/80. Yup, you're definitely a Lesbian."

Wow, boy am I relieved. I just got back from my yearly medical check-up and it turns out...I'm not gay! I was kind of nervous at first because I had been watching a lot of Ellen DeGeneres and reading a lot of articles in Liberal magazines that said they are locating a gene for Homosexuality.

I initially thought well that's no great discovery, I've spotted those jeans with my naked eye. They are called Ed Hardy's and their bedazzled butt pockets glitter so vibrantly they trigger epileptic seizures in even the most neurologically sound observers. You don't need a microscope to spot that Mr. Scientist man!

However, I was disappointed to find the articles I read did not mention anything fabulous, fashionable or gay like I had expected. Instead
they discussed how probably Asian scientists had located DNA strands that could determine a person's sexual orientation. I imagined the gay DNA coding was written in gold-embossed calligraphy and the genetic message was a Madonna lyric, where as the Straight coding was written in something boring like Helvetica. Lesbian coding was probably in a Flannel pattern and best read aloud to the accompaniment of an acoustic guitar at a Bakersfield bonfire.

I was shocked to discover other scientists had mentioned that homosexual traits can be spotted very early on in a child's life. The article omitted any pictures of homosexual fetuses in the womb as they would be disturbing to some readers. These included Sonograms depicting fetuses who had boldly taken the liberty of wallpapering their mother's womb and outfitting it with a garden patio blooming with Begonias. Also omitted was footage of a baby boy being born already wearing a feather boa and heels, carrying a boom box blasting Cher and making his earthly entrance in a neon fog of glitter dust.

Inquisitive to my genetic sexual orientation, I asked my mother if I had any gay tendencies as a child. She said I went through a phase where I wore baggy pants and wife beaters but that could be equated to the fact that I hung out with a lot of Mexicans.

I was nervous when the Doctor took my blood pressure as I had been eating a lot of seafood and I didn't want the Doc to confuse my clam blood levels with clam-diving. Also, the doctor was a Woman which made me nervous because I kept staring at her breasts which probably seemed very lesbian. I couldn't help it, she had a ketchup stain on her smock in the exact shape of Newt Gingrich's profile. Is that a gay thing to say? Do straight-women make comments about Newt Gingrich?

Oh no, I think I may be developing Hypochondria-Homosexualia (n.), that's the clinical name for the irrational fear that you may be contracting homosexuality.

I passed the eye exam with flying colors. It consisted of me looking at a far away placed poster of a naked Megan Fox, with one hand over my eye, to which I murmured, "Eww, this makes me uncomfortable." Apparently that means I have 20/20 straight vision. If I had yelled, "Yowza, yummy yummy ta-tas" I would have tested fully gay and if I said, "Eh, I would be more turned on if it was Anne Heche" I would have tested as bisexual.

So anyways, I tested as 87% Heterosexual, which made me feel unsatisfied because that is a B and I started weeping and saying, "Nobody cares about me!" which boosted my straight-girl score to a 93! Wooh-hoo! Now I can watch Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman in Black Swan guilt free!

P.S. I can't wait for gay hospitals, where the stethoscopes are bedazzled and the doctors all perform melodramatic monologues they ripped off from Grey's Anatomy.

God bless science and GOD BLESS GAYS!!