Look what happened to my fine question as to the musical genre of your upcoming prison album.
Obfuscation, by the highest authorities.
I can get you in as a producer at a label. Nothing fancy, bare essencials kind of thing.
Unless that kind of work is beneath you.
Anyway that’d have to be in a couple of years at least, I’m not there myself and I’m NOT going back broke.
Btw $2 will get you the whole tortilla shop. Viva el socialismo.
And you might be tough, but you ain’t Venezuelan potato picker tough. I guarantee it.
potato picker tough?
try workin’ on a tree farm with gnarly women who chew tobacco in the appalachian mountains 4,000 ft above sea level in december.
i believe i got them taters handled, rap.
I wouldn’t even dare you to prove it. There would be no fun in it.
Appalachians… That’s in the US, right?
Lol.
No homes. You don’t.
Our working class makes your working class look like snot-nosed pussies.
bro. there are two places on this earth that produce the hardest of the working class. that is siberia and the blue ridge mountains. when i lived in boone i got to work with people who i didn’t even think were possible. i’m talkin’ bout straight MOUNTAIN PEOPLE, dude. like some kind of descendents from the sasquatch. these people don’t even have bathrooms and use out houses in the back yard. cook five times with the same bacon grease before they throw it out. i worked with this dude once who had a fucking anvil in his living room. he was a carpenter and a blacksmith. right there in the living room we’re hanging out after work and he’s banging out a fucking broad sword on the anvil. had a hole in the roof to let the smoke out… pulled a tarp over it when he wasn’t working. you think i’m kidding. every one of his teeth were black. probably never even been to the dentist. this sonofabitch could drive a sixteen penny nail in one hit and wore the same overalls damn near every day. impervious to pain and cold. made his own moonshine. shit was so strong it’d burn a hole through your throat. i’m talking about a whole nuther breed of human being here, hombre. you don’t find animals like this south of the equator… i don’t care how many potatoes you pick.
Believe it or not, I’m not impressed.
But enough, Brian. I’m not inviting you down there to pick potatoes.
I’m inviting you to stomp around and be up to no good. There’s a million ways to make money, I don’t think it will be a problem for you. Of course, making enough money to get back out is different. A lot of people make less than a dollar a week. But you could still do it, depending on how much of a snob you are “I won’t do this I won’t do that” bla bla bla.
if you met this dude you’d be. this guy was an anthropological marvel of modern science. we called him mud, and that was being nice.
I’ve met the crack version of that dude. The dude for who that dudes’ bad day is a good day.
But your earnestness is touching.
Lol, broadsword. Living rooms… an outhouse!
What does he have a rich sister?
That’s what impresses me most about gringos, first worlders in general. How unaware they are of what’s actually out there.
It’s like we look at you, the pinnacle on top of the crystal tower, the nest itself of richness and luxury, and when you go inside there everybody thinks the world outside it’s all the same, slight variations maybe.
Here, again, republicans give you a beating in awareness and understanding. They actually grasp the scale. The old school ones, these Ben Shapiro, Never Trump motherfuckers have a similar perspective as socialists.
that attitude is reserved for first world capitalist countries only, where employers are so full of shit you’d rather go homeless than work for em. it ain’t about the work… hell i love to work. it’s the filth, the lies, the stupid little mind games, the complete lack of gratitude. this crap is below me and i don’t involve myself in it unless i absolutely have to.
i actually tried to apply for a voluntary work program needing carpenters in mexico. i think it was in oaxaca if i remember correctly. this was years ago when i was in my che guevara stage. filled out the application and everything. we were to build housing developments, rec centers and other miscellaneous shit in lower class communities. you didn’t get paid, but you got room and board… plus i’d take any reason to get the fuck out of this country at the time, so i was psyched about going. and then… the felonies. i’m sorry sir, but we can’t accept felons in the work program. but… but, i wasn’t even gulty of em! they wrongfully convicted me! jesus christ all i want is to get out of this cesspool and i’m even willing to work for free… and you still won’t let me? can i get like political refugee status or something? you gotta get me out of here man! nope. and thus marked the end of my short lived che guevara legacy.
no, he had a job… and enough sense not to become a crack head.
This is so sad man…
Anyway, the invitation stands.
Like I said, you’re cocky but I think you’d like it. Hopefully we wouldn’t get killed too quick. Or at all.
Lol, ironically I think our ticket to survival would be to put you to work. Not picking potatoes. But cockyness there goes from death sentence to ticket to paradise if you are seen to be providing cool shit. To invest the cockyness, in a sense.
i’m actually a great guy. i’m just cocky around knuckleheads. you gotta get em in the ground before they start to smell.
Btw, this is what fucks up veterans. Having seen it, been forced to see it. And then they’re all, almost without exception, and the ones who make it through half-sane (and didn’t just stay in camp sending emails or something, but even those…), saying the same thing: no you don’t understand, man. We’re so fucking lucky.
Cocky = not great?
Fucking socialists, I tell you man.
Brian, renounce morality. I command thee!
Doesn’t make you a great guy either. Just… Cocky.
Jesus Christ, you’re worst than my fucking girlfriend.