What?

beershelfThis blog is about you.  That should make you happy.

While you’re sitting there on your fat ass drinking a beer, the four horsemen of the Apocalypse (Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death) are galloping up your back alley.  Because it had nothing to do with getting laid, you weren’t interested in Global Warming, Drone Warfare, or the local school board election.  You couldn’t be bothered even registering to vote, much less going out on a cold, rainy day and standing in line.  Besides, you heard once, maybe twenty years ago, that they pulled jury duty notices from the voter registration file, so no way were you going to sign up for that.  Jury duty?  Why bother?  That’s a sucker’s game.  The crooks all get off thanks to their expensive lawyers anyway.  You know they’re crooks because they wouldn’t have been arrested otherwise.  If you had your way, they’d all be turned over to Jack Bauer.  He’d get the truth out of them.  That’s the way to handle criminals in the real world.

No, it’s better just to sit there on the stoop, thinking that nothing is going to touch you, and complain to your neighbor (who was trying to sneak out so that he wouldn’t have to “converse” with you) that it’s not fair that you have to pay school taxes when you don’t have kids, that you have to pay federal taxes when “the rich people don’t pay anything”, and that they had no right to put that speed bump in the street that runs by the grade school when that’s the best shortcut to (and from) the nearest bar.

Now the guy at the liquor store, he understands.  He agreed with you about how your neighbor shouldn’t have allowed the gub’mnt to vaccinate their kids.  No wonder one of them is retarded.  Sure, the neighbor calls it autistic, but it’s really the same thing.  And it’s them shots that do it, right?  After all, a hunnard years ago, wuzn’t no goddamn vaccinations, and kids grew up alright.  And there wuzn’t no autistic kids around either.  That proves there’s a connection, right?  Damn straight.

You still haven’t forgiven those crooked cops that took away your license for a few speeding tickets.  And you weren’t drunk.  The pigs were just pissed that you didn’t offer them none.  And you were on a damn riding lawnmower anyway, not in a car.  There’s no such thing as mowing while drunk, is there?  Well, there ought’n be.  You pay their salaries.  How dare they ticket their boss? What has the world come to that goddamn flunkies can write out a ticket to their boss?  You never got to write a ticket to your boss!  Well, not when you were working, anywho.  Thank Gawd for those unemployment checks, they pay for the beer.

Not that you really need a license.  Who could drive the car anyway, with that damn Denver Boot on the wheel?  Fuckin’ Boot.  Why the hell should anyone have to pay for parking anyway?  It’s not like you don’t pay more than your share of taxes.  That’s supposed to mean that you own the streets.  Screw ’em.  It’s not even your car, it’s the wife’s.  And, hell, she never used it nohow.  The bus stops right on the corner and you got her that little popup umbrelly if it rains.  At least they can’t take the house — that’s rented!

But, still, you’re a citizen, damn it.   You earned your citizenship ’cause your parents were born here.  Not like those furry-ners that just come over here and squat down and shoot out an anchor baby.  If the gub’mnt wants to control something, why don’t they control that?  After all, you pay for the gub’mnt — or you would, if you had a job or owned anything.

At least you’ve still got your dignity.  They can’t take that away from you.  And as long as you have dignity, you’re A-oh-kay.  And maybe another beer.  Yeah, you got everything you need.  You just own the whole fuckin’ world, don’t you?

Be seeing you.

 

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