Consider these moral dilemmas:

1. The trolley is coming at full speed. No one is on the tracks. If you don’t push some people down there right now, then this whole exercise will be meaningless.

2. Three innocent people are on the tracks, with the trolley approaching rapidly. Next to you is an obese man. You can talk to him, but if you do, people might think you’re friends with a fat guy.

3. You’re a doctor. You can save three of your sick patients if you harvest the organs of one healthy man. Unfortunately, you don’t have time to think about this because your hospital is a trolley and it’s about to run over a bunch of people.

4. Two people are on the tracks. One is attractive, the other, ugly. Figure out how to save just the hot one without them thinking that you’re a bad dude.

5. There are three trolleys stuck on the track, and one giant human is about to crush them. The screams of the trolleys sound frighteningly human. Is this man God?

6. There is no trolley, because it was aborted.

7. Your job is to pull a lever in case the trolley ever looks like it’s about to hit someone, though the pay is low and your boss is a real dick. Now the trolley is heading for three people, but if you pulled the lever, it would basically make you a bitch.

8. The trolley is about to kill everybody you know, yet it’s hard to say that any of this is your fault, considering that all you did was give the trolley a gun and a motive.

9. Relax. Trolleys are gonna do what trolleys are gonna do.

I am addicted to MDMA. The taste of MDMA, that is. It is so scrumptious. I am vehemently opposed to recreational drug use.

My favorite flavor of MDMA is strawberry. I eat it all the time for the delicious feeling in my tastebuds. Then I spit it right out so I don’t get any sinful feelings in my brain. “Why don’t you just eat regular strawberries?” people ask me. The answer is because strawberry MDMA is yummy. A better question, I tell them, is why people feel the need to get high.

I have lots of MDMA at parties, because I spend so much time at them telling people not to do drugs that I like to reward myself with a tasty treat. Sometimes, someone will offer me some MDMA, and I’ll say, “Ooh, yes, I love snacks with friends!” Then they’ll actually take the MDMA instead of tasting it, and I’ll be like, “What? This leaves me with no choice but to call the police this very minute!”

MDMA can be great in a variety of dishes, like my signature MDMA with water. I like to make it for people who are addicted to MDMA to show them that there is more to life than drugs, like cuisine. I also make it for my friends who aren’t addicted to MDMA, but a lot of them end up getting addicted to MDMA after they have it, so I have to make it for them again to get them un-addicted.

There is so much MDMA at my house that my neighbors are starting to get suspicious. Last week, they called the police on me, but I did not mind since I had been asking the police to come over for months to discuss drug prevention initiatives. When the officers arrived, I offered them some cheese and crackers because I was so hungry that I did not feel like sharing my MDMA. Silly me. Those policemen saw right through my big lie! They brought in a dog who was so hungry for MDMA that he found my entire secret stash. Now I am in prison for lying, greediness, and being an all-around bad friend. It just goes to show that if you love something, you should share it, especially if it’s some tasty MDMA.

I am so handsome.

Me: Hey, baby. 

Girl: Oh my god! Are you a centaur?

Me: Yeah. Surprised you noticed. Most people can’t stop looking at my gorgeous face.

Police Officer: I’m placing you under arrest.

Me: Why? For looking too fine?

Police Officer: You’ve kicked and killed the last five people who’ve walked behind you.

Me: Serves them right for checking out my ass. The show’s up here!

Lawyer: I honestly don’t know how to proceed. Legally speaking, we’re in uncharted waters.

Me: Just wait till the judge sees me. He’ll drop the case—and his pants! Can I get a “hell yeah”?

Lawyer: I mean, it’s quite the dilemma. Is a half-man truly entitled to the rights of a full one?

Judge: Considering the abnormalities at play, this case has been deemed beyond my jurisdiction.

General: That’s right, your honor. The U.S. Army will take it from here.

Me: Is this for a photoshoot? Because I do not do camo. It clashes with my luscious gold locks.

Me: I know what you’re thinking, and no—Brad Pitt and I aren’t related.

Military Scientist: Please, sir. The genome extraction process requires you to be totally silent.

Me: I’m usually pretty good at leaving people speechless. Do you have a mirror I could look at?

General: The boys in the lab are using your DNA to create a race of centaur super soldiers. You’re going to help us take down China, son.

Me: Wait—so they’re all going to have my sculpted nose? My dreamy eyes? My chiseled chin?

General: No. Only your equine strength and speed.

Me: But they’re missing out on the best parts!