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Last Man on Earth: Charlie Sheen

I've decided that with 2012 less than a year away, I should start to prepare worst case scenarios for myself, so that I will be ready to save the world's population when it comes time to love make against the glowing embers of burnt zombies and dilapidated strip-malls.

Now... I'm shallow. Really super unbelievably shallow. However, I would make exceptions if the fate of the world relied on me popping out a few babies ( kind of gross though, considering incest would be the only way to get the world going again) then, you know, I could just paperbag a man up, or he could paperbag me up if half my face was burned or clawed off by a zombie shitzu or something, but we could make it work. Fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, downs syndrome, whatever. I'll hop on it. A super sexy martyr, sacrificing personal taste and satisfaction to have the human race keep on keeping on.

If Charlie Sheen was the last man on earth though, if all I had to rub up against was crazy eyed Charlie Sheen, post-Hot Shots! Charlie Sheen ( a big thanks to James for introducing me to his best work), Bombshell McGee pussy-lickin Charlie Sheen, cocaine-addicted crab infested Charlie Sheen, then I would just jump into a big old zombie-infested pool and start sucking on baby brains.

It's the principle folks: you cannot reinforce Charlie Sheen's sheen... the human race, if based on Sheen genes, would implode upon itself in a matter of seconds. Even the zombies would refuse to gnaw on Sheen spawn. They would just throw their own limbs at them, to keep them from locking them up in luxury closets.

Douchebags are not sustainable forms of life when there isn't a TV to keep them at a safe distance from the general population.


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