Monday, April 28, 2003
Births are cause for celebration. Death is cause for despair.
I’m not talking about anything too deep here folks. Or maybe I am. Let’s say that two people have partial ownership of something. An agreement is set forth that over time with proper compensation, said item shall be transferred in full from one party to the other. When time comes for the final paperwork to be stamped by Franklin the magic donkey, it is a distinct possibility that the first party may not be ready to totally give up the goat, the foothold.
Because endings are no fun, especially when their affect on the scrilla factor of said party is extreme and not of the compensatory level expected or desired. Especially when a pie has grown to a much larger size than previously expected and suddenly the slice owed to the originator has shrunk to the size of a crumb, then a scrap and then simply table scraps not fit for a dog.
But nothing is for free, my peeps. Unless the paperwork dictates, nobody gets a free ride, and even then chances are slim. You make your bed and you must lie in it.
It’s not deep, it’s just true. Endings suck ass. Not always but in many cases yes. When something is created it’s sis-boom-bah, when something is taken away, not necessarily destroyed, but given a new master and the role of the old master is cut like a paper-doll, (shitty simile, sorry about that) no fuk it I’m not sorry, it works. What? Dammit I lost track of what I was saying. Let’s just say, that sometimes people just cannot recognize when the party’s over. The dj is packing his records, the lights are on, the bouncer is grabbing your shoulder, but you still want to dance. Sorry Charlie, time to hit the bricks.
Feh. Bleh. Bah. Whatevers. I’m not too crazy about this post, but unlike anti, I’m not good at throwing shit away, so fuck it.