Kyp, you are so money I just can't stand to see you breathing.

We keep it rough in Springfield, cut off our own damn limbs, (on purpose!), while grocery shopping and its no big deal at all!

In other news.

Last Friday I accompanied my friend Jamie down to the old stomping grounds of Clarendon, VA. We went to a bar right down the block and across the street from my old apartment ($225 a month, utilities included…guess how long ago that was?) and the offices of Kidner Transport, the moving company of Brigaddonish lore I have written about on this site a time or ten.

The bar was rocking a beach theme, it's called Mama Quan's Tiki Bar I do believe, and was packed to the gills with all manner of people I would love to see dead. They did nothing to me per se to deserve a deathwish but it's just their manner and energy that makes me hate them, hate them with an insane passion that unnerves me. Perhaps it's the nasty eye-cocked staredown that you have to endure with these fucking idjits whenever you want to take a step forward, maybe it's the mating call of a pasty white kid yelling, "YO DAWG THAT GURRRL IS MUNNNNEY FO RILL SON!!!!!", (see visual aid at top left, the bomb is a beautiful wish on my part and was not an actual part of the occurences of the evening at hand). Perhaps it's the clothes or maybe all three.

Most likely it's the entire package.

Whatever the formula for my ire, I would like to see them all gathered together in a pasture, say lure them in with a free Mister Greengenes concert so it's like Woodstock for dumbasses, and drop a daisycutter onto the beer bong tent in the center of the field. The ground littered with limbs and sandals, ill-fitting tube tops and cottage cheese legs shimmering with fake tanning spray, would bring the world closer to back to center. How come none of these nitwits ever get the urge to throw themselves into the meat saw? Life is so unfair.

I don't question where they come from (or accordingly why our college graduates are still fucking stupid after getting diplomas). I just find it stunning that anyone would willingly, repeatedly and worse excitedly join that herd. What am I not getting? Do I somehow miss the Siren like allure of pot-bellied loudmouthed harridans waxing poetic about how krunked they got at Dewey Beach and what a slut whoever isn't standing in front of them at the moment is? Do they somehow bark an inviting melody from their spittle flecked and Hecht's procured lip gloss covered mouths that my ears aren't attenuated to receiving?

Perhaps my neurons aren't firing correctly that I can't get jazzed about rolling with a posse of roundheaded chronic masturbaters that cop their vernacular from the Sports Junkies and think they're badasses when they crank up Nelly at the stoplight, (as long as no real black people are around). Obviously there's some kind of disconnect between my view of their detestability and the world at large because one thing about them, they do gather in tremendous numbers.

I imagine that my horror of being in their company and associated blood mission to glare at them hatefully despite no discernable effect or damage to their worthless selves is akin to that of a South Korean border guard knowing there's a million damned souls just over the hill waiting for the order to charge. The guard knows that despite his best efforts there's nothing he could do to stop them once they started to mass and he has naught to do but load a magazine, pray for his children and try not to shed a manful tear.

Ok, it's probably nothing like that but still..............

Jamie says I'm just grouchy and old, (true) but even when I was young (admittedly still pretty grouchy) I despised the then version of these dildoes hopping to and fro to Young MC and the like. No wonder the country keeps getting itself into so much trouble, these are the future upper crusties spawned from the homes of the current upper crusties that are in charge of things. If they're this detestable can you imagine what is going on with the lower class!

Odds Bodkins!

Did you see Batman Begins? Maybe I'll work on concocting some sort of potion to drop in North Arlington's water supply ala the Scarecrow. It won't drive people crazy with fear, it will transport them twenty years ahead in time so their future straw-brained selves can see what fools they were as young adults and give them a chance to save themselves from reflectionary embarrassment.

Or perhaps I'll take the path of least resistance and go to a real bar where I can be assured that none of these fucking fools could ever spend more than 30 seconds and not burst into flames or get stabbed in the face with a pinball machine.

That sounds like a better option.

See you there.