So… here we are. It’s July fourth… The fourth of July! For some people -IN FACT - for most people, J-fourth is no different than any other day of the year. For us glorious and braveheart-filled, bastardly, overly-excited, overly-dressed,overly-oderly, lovely-oderless. Fuck.
Well, you say you know of a man! By golly gee, say I. Huckleberry fuckle-chuck! A man that will do great things!
“Things, you say”, shifty eyebrows cocked, “These things.. are… shit. Are things of great magnitude, some… you know… some real things. Really great things, at a new dimension perpindicular to marvelous, a right on, right triangle, ninety degree banger to the west.
What’s a banger? Fuck if I know.
If we’ve all lost our minds I’d already be in the boat heading out to the inlet” .
“You’re taking too godamn long, fucker! “, said the wind.
“Back off, you wanderous flounder. Like fluke, you lay, dwaddle, skip to my, Louis! Oh my, Louis! Skip to my Louis! My, Louis!”, said my face.
“What do you want, mom?!”, coughed up Louis.
“I just want some damn respect boy, and you comin’ in here with your shit-covered feet marchin’ in on down on my oriental rug, fucking up the dining ro–”, sang Louis’ mom.
-Huge molten flameballs begin to manifest themselves almost instantly. Destruction is probable… danger is medium high to major high. Thrusters are activated. Resitance is infertile, but not futile.
“You have AIDS”, splattered Chucky.
“I smoke angeldust”, wretched Claud.
“I’m pregnant”, said your girlfriend.
-This was probably in the name of the Lord, but who knows? Who knows these days-
“Ahhhh, what the fuck I seem to have lost my way abouts. For instance, I’m not the type of guy that pluralizes words like “about” in to abouts.
People that say, “it’s only a bit awayS”, “It’s aboutS here!”, are low class. Fucking low class sluts. Nasty little piggies. Soldiers, tireless alien-issue cologne.
What was once so familiar now seems even more familiar. I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about feedback.
Feedback is a great word. Feedback is not a feeding of a back nor back to the feeding, or even a miniscule misdirection of a minor threat gone fraudulent.
However, we must ask ourselves on this fine day, “Is it I, my eyes rise up on? Or tis it ye, thee who shall haveth for thy wine the blood of a swine”
-His truly comes marching on through the kitchen door like a rhinocerous on fire, screaming hot steaming mucos from his rhinocerously nasal voids known to man as nostrils. Known to tree as nostrils. Known to earth as nostrils. Known to mankind, known to the kind, not-so-well-known to the poor.-
And so he straps his sandals on his left foot.
The sandal was on backwards. Well, not backwards. Upside-down.
It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was, but he was still working on sliding the sandal on his left foot. The right foot wasn’t the foot in question. The right food would surely be next on the list, though. When it came to putting sanadals on his feet, Uncle Louis never hesitated with the first foot. For some reason, Uncle Louis’ first-foot was always the left. Funny that a right-hander put his left shoe on first. Maybe Uncle Louis was a fraud.
So we ask ourselves, today, on this wonderous day. Oh, what a day. Here I am listening to the anecestry of a lifetime died bleach white, tied in a knot, and thrown over ya chest. Boom, boom, chicky boom-boom.
Visualize, recognize, decieve, deciet, curious, curious george, monkeys, curious monkeys, occupation, occupation of mind, occupation of state, occupation of mind with monkeys, occupation of state of mind with monkeys, occupation of mind with state of monkeys;
a. All monkeys will abbide by Section C: colon section.
b. There shall be order in the court.
c. I am not a free man.
d. He struck the mother fucker down with his gavel, gat, nine-milimeter shark attack.
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