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Published February 24, 2009 More Info »
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Published February 24, 2009
Here's a couple of winners from the books. Not golden or country, but random rantings I had buried in the old old computer. And it is seriously old. Huge and from the fifties. With whirling tape recorder wheels.Here's the first:   

I'll admit it, I'm a bummer. When I'm drinking I'll ask for a cigarette. Sucks, I know. Yes, I hate us too. But last night at a bar I was rudely denied (which I accept as fair) by a white guy with dreadlocks. This morning I realized I'm done. With smoking? No, with white guys with dreadlocks. Done. Done with going, "Ah, whatever floats your boat" when I see (and smell) them. Fuck you. YOU did that to your own head, not nature. Here's a quote from Ziggy Marley, black man and son of Bob:

"I don't understand white people with dreadlocks. Dreadlocks symbolize the struggle of the black man. And though the white man can understand many struggles, he will never understand the struggle of the black man."

So fuck you and give me a camel light, hippie shithead.

You know who else can go away? People in Mensa. Yes, the club for the super intelligent among us. Are you solving world problems? Are you called to a table in a secret fortress when humankind is threatened? No? What do you do? Spout trivia to each other over white wine? Really? Then what good are you and what is your club for other than to make the rest of us feel dumb? If you weren't on Jeopardy, kindly kiss my balls and shut your genius mouth afterwards.

Where is this anger coming from, you ask? From living on a rock hurtling through space mostly. Also not having wings growing from my back so I don't have to take the bus if my car breaks down.

My apartment building is getting fumigated soon. It's something I've never experienced. I have to wrap all my food goods in plastic and leave for two days. Thinking of going homeless for a while. Too bad I don't have my beard anymore. Maybe I'll go live in a Super 8 and at night yell, "Esmerelda!!!! Why?! Why did you kick me out! I swear I only fell on my secretary and my penis accidentally went in! I swear!!!" You know, just really, really specific screaming and crying jags. Until the manager knocks on the door saying, "Look, we're used to screaming and crying around here, but the details need to stop, buddy. Seriously, I can't get the mental image of you killing your wife's lover with a lawn mower out of my head now."

Now I have to go pick up two fake pistols and an unshootable sniper rifle for a music video I'm helping to make this week. I'm just like you. Thanks for reading.

Love,
The bear that only eats poachers



-----

I don't smoke anymore, BTW. Well, cigarettes. Here's another one:


I live two blocks up the hill from an elementary school. When I'm sitting at my desk writing, I can hear them play sometimes. Leaving my neighborhood in the morning, I drive past them while they're having their recess. It always gives me a kick to see them knocking a ball around, skipping rope, and yelling and/or running for no reason. Sometimes I even hear announcements on the school intercom when I'm in my apartment. Usually it's along the lines of telling a parent to move their car, but it still startles me to hear a voice echo over the hills suddenly. Makes me think, for just an instant, that we've entered a police state as a country. Damn it! The election was months away! We almost made it!

But just now I heard something I've never heard from the playground below. The kids were chanting. Loudly. Couldn't make out what the chant was, but it was a two syllable back and forth kind of chant. Like "Child fight! Child fight!" or "Light bright!! Light bright!" Sounded really clean, like literally every kid in the area was yelling it. Keeping perfect time. Spooky.

So....what if the children decide to revolt? What then? Zombies are one thing. You can shoot them in the head and feel fine about it. Kids are a whole different story. Sure, they only want whatever candy and/or video games you have in your house, but they'll do anything to get at them. Including overwhelm you and beat you senseless with their fat little fists. Morality makes us hesitate to use force against a child, and they know this. They will use it against us. Best thing to do is hide or run. Don't risk being overcome by the screaming, biting grade schooler hordes. 

If you do choose to punch and fight them (and seriously, don't--they're fucking kids!), you will not only lose, they will make an example of you. Kind of like pulling a gun on a bunch of Hell's Angels. Sure you'll shoot a couple, but when the gun runs out of bullets, the remaining club members will turn you into about seven vests. 

OH GOD! The door! The door!!! No! There's no time! Get away! 

Tell my parents I love th









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