Thursday, March 20, 2003


the hardest thing about being so damn fly is the airport reservations.

You’d think it’d be a piece of cake, being mc mac mall and booking a flight, but oh no not so annie moe, the peeps just wanna babble and admire your shirt and tell you things like, “everyone down at the malt shop is just ga-ga over your new album” and shit like that.

After a while it gets old. I ain’t gonna lie. Every once in a while some attention and a compliment or two are damn nice. Good stuff. But shit after the 83rd time of trying to polish my shoe to a perfect shine with their own hard-earned elbow grease, they could knock it off already and move on with their day. I’m cool, really. Seriously. Gee in the fee. Oh, si.

Why do I have such deep thoughts and night and then when it’s time to type this it’s like, “it was a dark and stormy evening in the gulf of Mexico. Keanu and Shealani were about two astro-medallions short on a six pack of Pacifico. Things were looking dire, and then rode in on his horse Silver was this threatening but nonconfrontational haole with a black mask and a white hat with a red sash on it. he seemed happy to see them, and no that wasn’t a gun, they were pretty sure, at least in his pocket. As for guns, he had two, one in each hand, and a knife in his mouth and his eyes were as daggers, deflecting the wind but counting your worth from first glance to final battle.”
See why is it crapola like that that comes out, when all these deep thoughts are just waiting to come out? Like what’s up with war? Will history show that we were totally justified? Will evidence come to light that if nothing had been done, then Sadaam would have torn the world a new a-hole with some secret samadai plan that no one except Ghandi could have predicted?

And even if there’s no indication of any of that kind of stuff in actuality, will our government fabricate something, weave a little web to make it appear so? To validate everything, all the death, all the sacrifice? How many American lives will be lost, what is worthwhile amounts? But screw that, the fact that we know the score afterward should not affect anything, you gotta move forward, knowing victory is at hand, and if shit ain’t right, then rearrange and plagiarize until it’s pretty as a picture and all wrapped up like Little House on the Prairie. See I start talking and don’t know whut I’m representing, and suddenly I’m accused of hamster abuse. Should we be talking in terms of casualties applied to each side? Is it good if they die and we live?

Part of me says fuck yeah, gotta break some eggs to make an omelette, sam, but another part of me is like “every sperm is sacred”every person is a special little feller or girlie and who are we to play judge jury executioner to people that for the majority are just pawns of some madmen and his thugs. And then it’s where the issue gets flipped again, an argument against something turning in an argument for it…

See that’s why I don’t go into that place of Alfredville acres. It’s controversial, it’s not cut & dried, it’s not random ranting, there’s no order, no predicticablity, no room for made up words people stories fantasy ass horse manure. Straight up reality, something that a weiner dude attitude ain’t gonna account for in the final reckoning.

Um, and that’s why the new state bird should be a pigeon. Rebuttal?

Oh good job, dude. Such a clever little ending to some earnest and dogshit-eared diatribe which you wouldn’t be able to back up into a boat-sized parking spot. Feel better?

um, let me think about that one... I do, yes I do, thank you.