what? this is almost as melodramatic as that dummy on his way home from Rhonda’s double-wide. the point is not to create depth, but caricature the complete lack of depth.
but this country music pop shit is taking over my radio. it’s taken total control of every broadcast in the south-eastern united states. like a virus contagion transmitted over the radio waves. like the other day i actually looked twice at the cowboy hat in the window of bob’s country western store as i drove past and thought 'you know, this could be me. i could buy the hat, the boots, the giant belt buckle, everything… and i could pull the dumb southern drawl off perfectly, memorize a few scriptures, start paying attention to baseball, renew my hunting license, and maybe join farmersonly.com where i can find me a good girl, get captured by pure desire, and fall into that ring of fire…
I’m a moron ‘n’ this is my wife
She’s frosting a cake
With a paper knife
All what we got here’s
American made
It’s a little bit cheesy
But it’s nicely displayed
Well we don’t get excited when it
Crumbles ‘n’ breaks
We just get on the phone
And call up some Flakes
They rush on over
‘N’ wreck it some more
‘N’ we are so dumb
They’re linin’ up at our door…
Name five things that are better than kettle cooked potato chips. You can’t do it. You know what I’m talking about, right? Not regular chips. Kettle cooked chips are always thicker and all folded up on themselves. Lot more burnt ones in the bag, too. And when you bite em they’re like CCCCCCRUUUUNCH-CHUH. omg they are so good. I can eat a whole bag at once, easy.
I have reason to believe Victor is a KGB agent on assignment in America to gather intel on small, private locally owned construction businesses.
I love to leesen to this guy talk… which begs the question; why am I talking so much? well because I like to leesen to myself talk, more. I just wish I had the Russian accent, that’s all.
i believe i am now officially part of the secret society of motorcyclists, having completed my induction into their unique culture. the first thing i note is my obligation to wave at other bikers on the road; this is a customary behavior and a gesture shared by all bikers, regardless of what they ride. the motion consists of extending the left hand out and down at waist level with two fingers configured in a kind of modified peace sign of sorts. this is our way of acknowledging that we are not like the others enclosed in their four wheeled boxes, but a different breed… free spirits… on steel horses we ride (we may or may not be wanted dead or alive).
another thing i learned is that is isn’t polite to race ahead of an inferior bike when the light turns green. if it is clearly obvious which bike is faster, the faster of the bikes should accelerate modestly rather than leave the slower bike in the dust. such behavior would be an extraneous display of indulgence and is not appreciated by the other biker.
also, revving. only cornballs rev the engine. don’t do that… especially if you’re on a harley and beside me. your humiliation will be double when the light turns green. instead, simply offer a nod of appreciation and respect for the other biker… and when the light turns green, go your own way, road warrior, for every man must ride alone.
I will never again go to a shopping mall in a western capitalist country cuz I ain’t trying to get shot. bunch of godamn psychopathic monkeys is what you are. Capitalism = psycho monkeys. Even Adam lanza thought he was a monkey. Think I’m kidding?