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 | People often ask me. "Hey you!" they say "Why do you put up with all this shit?" Usually I answer them in concise and polite terms and then rough them up with that extra special Midwest Polack Kung-Fu. Today as a special treat I'm gonna go into detail. Whatchoo talkin' 'bout foo'?
In order to understand how my corner of hell has developed
and contributed to the overall decline in the quality of everyone's life
it's necessary to get a tad autobiographical. It's not pretty. It's not
happy. It's downright boring but it needs to be done.
I was abducted by them shortly after corporeal attainment, a little over 24
years ago. They seemed nice enough at first. I got nourishment, proper
hormonal stimulation, shelter, your basic womb with a view. As anyone knows
though, monotony can begin to wear on one's imagination and patience. Lack
of language and symbolic thought only added to my predicament. Every bit
the prisoner I began to play my part to the best of my ability. Every
inmate takes it upon themselves at some point as their duty to escape.
Struggle is as natural as death. One often leads to the other. I never saw
the forceps coming. I miss my brain.
The one overriding fear of my life at this point is psychologists. Those
who can't, teach. Otherwise known as Those Who Can't Teach. No need for the
comma, these people are only a hair higher than Scientologists on my list
of reasons why there is no god. Sandwiched between Dave Barry and the
Pontiac Sunfire. Please refer to the list as needed.
Sometimes it's downright depressing just to sit and think about exactly
what I am likely to accomplish in my lifetime. Why do I feel a need to
leave a mark? Not bloody likely I'll be remembered for poetry about the
necrophiliac urges an imaginary character feels towards weasel carcasses.
Pretty slim chance that I'll be as famous as jesus for drooling out the
pain and anger I feel towards the general populace of whatever locale I
happen to be living in. Although look how well Hitler did with that
idea...
It's a pain in the ass to even bother breathing nowadays. The median IQ has
fallen so low lately that it's pointless to even TRY to explain to some
cretin what it means to behold the GRELL. No better than animals, no
more imaginative than a stone.
Then I remember the joy of superiority. If I feel small in comparison to
the coffee achievers in the world, at the very least I can gloat to myself
over the undisputed fact that I am still better than the average mental
hemorrhoid. There's a lot of beauty out there, manifesting itself in the
bus shelters and junior colleges of this nation. The pure simplicity of the
simpleton. Plus hot girls. Hot girls and High Fructose Corn Syrup will be
the salvation of us all. Sleep. Precious slumber crys
out...must...sleep...
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No God, No Way
1. Michael Jackson | |