Contrary to what my neighbors will tell you, I am a man (mostly machine) of highly developed morals, and anyone that challenges that statement is just begging to be tied up and raped with the corpse of my neighbors’ cat. I’m just kidding, there – that lil guy’s still alive.

As evidence of this claim (the morality one, not the decree to molest people with a cat), I present you, dear reader, with an actual conversation I recently had with E. Gauger on the heady subjects of religion, criminal justice, and fusing the morbidly obese to couches.

People, big and small, fusing to inorganic matter has always been a point of fascination for me, and it just seemed appropriate to incorporate it into this vision of righteousness.

Anyhow, here, for you, is the conversation in its entirety. Read it with an open mind, an open heart, and maybe, just maybe you’ll learn a little something about science, the nature of man, and maybe even about yourself.

MANSOFA

EG: This will cheer you up:
EG: A 66-year-old church elder convicted of indecently assaulting a child will not be sent to jail because his obesity means his health is “precarious”.
EG: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/northern_ireland/8393463.stm
JV: they should hurt the old man.
EG: They really should.
EG: What will they do, put him under house arrest?
EG: He’s already obese, he never leaves anyway.
JV: they could make him even fatter.
JV: and sit him on a couch.
EG: Until he becomes ONE with the couch.
EG: Wheezing and suffocating under his own flesh.
JV: that’s right.
JV: and then televise his being airlifted from his house through the hole they had to cut out of the roof.
EG: And as they lift him, the weight of the la-z-boy to which he is attached is enough to pull the flesh off him.
EG: Like a well-cooked chicken.
JV: It’d help if they boiled him a bit before lifting then.
EG: Just keep the room real warm.
JV: Not fatally, of course.
JV: That’d just be sick.
EG: Or maybe get him a hot tub.
JV: No, no…they just boil him to loosen up the chub.
JV: good idea!
JV: A hot tub would help, certainly.
JV: Just so long as big clumps of flesh flop off, sort of like blubber from a rotting whale.
EG: I think it’ll work.
JV: We’ll see.
JV: It’s just the guy can’t be let off that easily.
JV: Sure he has his conscience to plague him, supposedly, but there’s a good chance this is such old business for him that this conviction is more a nuisance and that the man is even ANGRY about all this bother.
JV: So you have to make sure.
EG: He doesn’t care.
EG: He’s a clergyman.
JV: Make sure he suffers somehow.
JV: Exactly!
EG: He was molesting for something like twenty years.
JV: A clergyman.
JV: What better person to show the meaning of hell.
EG: This is like being caught at the end of a really long affair.
EG: Yeah it sucks your wife finally caught on.
EG: But at this point you just don’t feel BAD anymore.
JV: I didn’t feel bad when my wife found out.
JV: And I was even more obese than this guy.
JV: This is why I know what to do.
JV: Force feeding, and then a really fibrous couch.
EG: They knocked on his door and said, “Father O’Flabs, you’re under arrest for indecent liberties with a minor.”
EG: And he, from his motorized wheelchair, blinked wetly and said “What of it?”
JV: Get this: The couch has conductive metal fibers woven throughout it.
JV: You know why?
EG: A couch made of coffee sacks.
EG: Damp sacks.
JV: no, no..
JV: NO.
JV: You’re not even listening.
EG: Sack?
JV: I’ll punch your sack, woman.
JV: Anyhow, it’s a couch, and the metal fiber is in there as well.
EG: Go on.
JV: once he’s properly fused like a fat man should be to a couch, you can pass an electric current through the thing.
JV: Sure, you could just poke a fused man with a cattle prod or a taser, but then what would I do with this couch I made?
JV: Are you beginning to understand the beauty?
EG: He’d jiggle.
JV: This turns you on?
JV: Because it shouldn’t.
JV: It should be a jiggle of vengeance.
JV: A wobble of justice, dig?
EG: It would settle him farther into the weave.
JV: Hell, yes.
EG: Like shaking a bowl of cake mix through a sieve.
JV: Imagine it!
EG: I am!
JV: After enough time, he’d be so deeply fused with the sofa that just some fingers and his face would be visible in the thing.
EG: He would BECOME sofa.
JV: he would truly BE the couch, like some hideous Philadelphia Experiment craziness with a couch.
EG: “Sofa” as a classification of mass.
EG: A type of matter.
JV: Shit, you could then put Mansofa in a public place as further means of justice.
EG: Children would sit on him and make wishes.
EG: And giggle their cute giggles.
JV: So people sit on him and animals wizz on him and birds shit on him and so on and so forth ad infinitum.
JV: Children are the future, Eliza.
EG: And he wouldn’t be able to rip his squeezing arm off the couch to fondle them.
JV: The future torturers of the world.
EG: We have to raise them right.
JV: I’m not sure letting children sit on his face is a way of hurting him, ma’am.
JV: Maybe the kids could be wearing special gear before getting on him.
JV: Like, maybe someone with a box of gear to hand out, the way 3d glasses are distributed before a movie.
JV: Only instead of glasses, it’s spiked pants.
EG: Only children with poor bowel control are allowed to play on Mansoga.
EG: sofa
JV: No, he might like that.
EG: It would help with the slushing process, though.
JV: I really want to avoid him being cool with some of this stuff.
JV: I’d want to make sure that his skin had almost liquified, and that his body would have settled over the cushions the way thin dough settles over a woman’s face when you cover her face with dough.
JV: The way it conforms to the surfaces.
JV: That way his nerves are spread all around the couch.
EG: Pizza dough, the stretchiness.
JV: For MAXIMUM FEELING.
JV: How can we profit from this, though?
JV: And I don’t just mean the obvious Japanese sources of income for disgusting shit like this.
EG: Well.
EG: We can insulate him.
EG: And then sell jiggle rides.
EG: Like a heated waterbed that sloshes itself?
JV: You’re not thinking with horror, man.
JV: Remember, this man is serving his time for crimes against humanity.
EG: I KNOW.
EG: I’m thinking with the end goal in mind.
EG: Insulation will stew him up.
EG: Marinate.
JV: So upholster him?
EG: More like vacuum sealing.
JV: I was imagining he was more this Cronenbergian flesh-sofa.
EG: Yes, but the shocks would transmute to any uninsulated thing that came into contact with him.
EG: This is simply one torment on a rotation of horror.
JV: Well, okay. How about this?
EG: He should also have various foreign species introduced.
EG: Ants would be good.
JV: We obviously have different approaches we want to try here, so why don’t we each get an obese man and fuse him to a couch and then compare notes and see who gets the most hits on fuse-tube.
EG: No, I think we should just do them all. Draw up a schedule.
JV: I know a pretty morbidly obese guy that lives in this building, and he’s super nice, but I bet he’s hiding something worth torturing him for.
EG: Probably really great snacks.
JV: That way we can keep our subjects’ paths of horror pure in themselves.
EG: No.
EG: You aren’t getting it.
JV: Too late, yo.
JV: I just chloroformed him.
EG: Any one torture is going to build up resistance in the subject.
EG: You have to switch them out.
JV: Holy shit. You wouldn’t think someone this morbidly obese would be so HEAVY!
JV: WHEW!
JV: Alright, he’s on the couch, and crying. S’going well.
EG: Chloroform is no good…too dangerous.
JV: how long is this supposed to take?
EG: Stick with GHB or ambien.
JV: he doesn’t look too fused yet.
EG: The merge?
EG: Check the manual.
EG: Did you get an extended warranty?
JV: Ah, says to cut a few lil slices into his back so that the healing mingles with the fibers of the couch.
JV: Makes sense.
EG: Ah, yeah. See?
EG: It’s going great.
JV: Man, this is swell.
EG: Did you ask him about snacks yet?
JV: He says he doesn’t have any.
JV: Woulda been nice to east snacks while doing this.
EG: The first thing he should eat is that pumpkin. Fill it with sour cream.
JV: Oh, you mean for HIM?
EG: No.
EG: I mean he’s gotta have some. Check his apartment once he’s nice and fused.
EG: Don’t want him rolling down the hallway after you.
JV: As for feeding, I have a system I used back when I had a baby.
EG: Funneling corn mush to bloat the liver?
EG: And eating really nice foods in front of him.
JV: Nevermind where I got the baby from, k? So what I’d do is fill water balloons with beans or mashed potatoes, k?
JV: And then I’d just squeeze the stuff into his mouth.
JV: “HE” being the baby.
EG: I follow you so far.
JV: This was back when I was working for the government.
EG: And this got the desired result? With the baby, I mean?
JV: Working on project HUGE BABY.
JV: It was pretty good, but in the end they just ended up using that gigantism formula that was all the rage back in the 90’s.
EG: Yeah I had that injected into my ass.
JV: Everyone did.
EG: I had real bad ass punies and they wanted to make sure I was hitting all my proper growth marks.
JV: Everyone injected that into your ass.
EG: my god
EG: Probably should put a turkey thermometer in the fat guy.
JV: You worried about his temperature?
EG: I’m just big on collecting data. You know how I roll.
JV: Let’s not drop the religious angle, though.
JV: Remember, the guy’s a clergyman.
JV: Maybe on Sundays we display him at his church where his former congregation can see what his life of sin led him to.
EG: The guy stuck his hand up a little girl for ten years, it’s hard to imagine anything upsetting him.
JV: Ah, well, we could dress a bear up as Jesus and let him at him for a lil bit.
JV: Bears HATE sofas.
EG: But they love fatty food.
JV: And they can’t stand clergyman.
EG: True.
JV: Hell yes, it’s true.
JV: That’s how my dad died.
EG: Which is why bear mace is manufactured in a holy water bouillon base.
JV: He was a priest one day, and BAM: BEAR EATS HIM.
EG: But we saw your dad at Thanksgiving?
JV: What’s left of him, yeah.
JV: There was a lot more of him before that.
EG: He WAS pretty small.
JV: I’M pretty small.
JV: Makes me wonder if I was a priest once, m’self.
EG: Wait, aren’t you the obese clergyman?
JV: But enough philosophy, let’s get back to the matter at hand.
EG: Okay.
EG: The sofa matter.
JV: Eliza…aren’t we ALL the obese clergyman in our own way?
JV: Think about it…
JV: yeah…
EG: I think I read that.
EG: Or saw it in What the ^@%#&^!? Do We Know.
JV: Isn’t “The Obese Clergyman’ one of the scenarios used to train officers for wargames?
EG: It’s in that book the Secret, too.
JV: Games and Theory stuff, right?
EG: Yes, but the fat men in the training exercises are just blanks.
JV: I’d hope so.
EG: Well, no one should get hurt…
EG: Look, I need to use the restroom. Slide a sandwich under the door in about five hours, okay?