Thursday, September 30, 2004

I feel like spoony g except the cranky version. But conversely, I’m not cranky, ie, when I get into closer proximity of the source of said crankiness, for some odd reason I mellow, whut is up with that? Maybe it’s cosmic rays.

PS: it’s my weekly silver & black fuck a city shit. This week’s city is Houston. Fuck you Houston. Fuck texas in general. Fuck the geto boys. (oooh, ok I don’t mean that bit, can you guys move to Oklahoma for a week & call it a dillio?) fuck Houston the porn star, and not in the biblical sense. Fuck Houston the rapper, fukn on sale mofo when keith is buried in the racks. Fuck Houston airport, making me walk around when your fukn automated walker thingies are broken. And, uh, fuck, uh, every ward except the 5th. And uh, the Houston Texans, eat a dick, think of a better fukn name next time. Hi, were the Los Angeles Californians. Dumbasses.

Speaking of places, is it me, or does north Carolina seem like one of those places that’s not real. Like it’s just a finely tuned promotional campaign. For whut, I don’t know. I mean, it’s too perfect. Michael Jordan, Duke, how there’s mysteriously a “south” Carolina, superbowl outta nowhere last year? I think it’s just like a giant area 51 type deal where once you cross state lines they abduct you & brainwash you and then hold you on lockdown and have your stunt double with a pencil thin mustache like make fake phone calls to your relatives saying how much fun you’re having and that the scenery is so magical and like how you just saw the prettiest cow pasture. And when it’s time to go, they put this little chip in your brain so they can control you whenever necessary and you go on your merry way. I mean, Michael Jordan could be a robot for all we know. Why else would mike chackevsky or however the fuck you spell that shit say “no” to the lakers, I mean besides the obvious that they’re gonna suck donkey dick this year.