I have a plan to repopulate the universe in my own image. Aren’t you tired of everybody looking different and having different opinions than you, always complaining and squabbling? Aren’t you sick of it?
I know I am.
I think I can remake a new universe in my own image and achieve godlike status by blasting into space vials of my own sperm.
My DNA and genius and good looks will start a new master race of super intelligent and handsome muscle-bound well-endowed giants. Think of it. No more dwarfs or ugly people.
Here’s how it works. It’s like when you’re stranded on a desert island and want to get off. You write a note and put it in a bottle and throw the bottle in the ocean hoping someone will sail along and find it floating.
I can do the same by filling small bottles with my own semen and paying to have them rocketed into space in the hope some alien life force will find one and use it to procreate (for those of you morons out there, procreate means to make babies). The bottles have to be very very small.
It’s pretty hard to fill a large bottle or a carton. A gallon jug? Wow! No way! You really have to work at that.
You companies out there who manufacture tiny bottles, please submit bids to me at Sammonsays.com.
An entire world will be created of people who lucky for them, resemble me. No more diversity. I don’t have to put up with it. Of course, once these look-alike beings have populated some heavenly asteroid, they’ll send for me to rule over them.
You might ask, once they find the bottle of sperm, how will they know what to do with it? Each bottle will also contain a small instruction note with easy to follow direction picture graphs.
I’m going to call this new life force, Sammon Semen.
Everyone will look like me. I’ll be their new Moses.
I have gray hair, so that will fit nicely. I can be inspirational. I look sort of like Charlton Heston with the nose of Ringo Starr.
I can carry tablets down from a mountain if you want. I can make dramatic, religious type pronouncements. Like “Come thee, all ye,” and “thou art,” and words like that.
Of course, my look-alike children will revere me and wait on me hand and foot, bathing my feet, kissing my toes. Addressing me as, “your worship.”
This new kingdom will of course need a flag so that we can receive foreign aid from the United States and have a seat at the United Nations (in a hundred years when I’m still young and spry because I’m the new Moses it (the UN) will instead be called the “Multiplicative Federated Existential Progeny.”
The new flag of my paradise will be a New York Yankee symbol.
I’m also planning to market my sperm locally (here on earth).
No doubt, this will require a lot of sperm. I’ll be very busy in the next year producing it. I’m thinking of quitting my day job to devote to this labor of love full time. I’ll be donating day and night.
There’s one possible catch. I’ll also have to contract with some banal company or corporation to arrange for the blasting into space of my juice. This could be the difficult phase because often these corporate hacks are short-sighted, ignorant shit-heads who fail to see the importance of what I’m trying to do. I’ll have to retain the services of someone who is as ruthless and close-minded as they are.