On Thanksgiving, I watched a documentary about the Mumbai terrorist attacks that occurred last year. And in this story, a woman who survived gave an account of her interaction with one of the gunmen. The poor fucker didn't know how to use a water facet! Can you believe how easy it is to point a gun at someone and kill them? It's easier than using the tap! But this was in the era of smart bombs. Definitely in the era of the Peacekeeper missile that Reagan said we needed. But that was in the era where first ladies were drugged up and tuned out. They did nothing but support the state. Ronald had his "Star Wars" but Nancy believed in spacey things too. It's hard to say how many first ladies the party system has actually helped out. Well, at least Michelle Obama got to make a guest appearance on Sesame Street. I think it'd be pretty entertaining to see Lynn Cheney hold a dialogued with Oscar the Grouch. It ain't easy being green. So they say.
I found a man on the ground the other day. I thought he fell off the back of a truck. No, he was just wasted. He was also bleeding from his head pretty good. I asked him if he was ok and he replied back to me in a very slurred Spanish. I again asked if he was ok, and then he proceeded to put up his dukes and say "Am I ok? Am I ok?" while coming at me. He was definitely bleeding from his head. That poor fuck.
I also ran into another man the other day who was sitting in a car. He waved me over. He had a mustache and really thick glasses on. He called me "young man". Any decent young man knows that he should help the elderly. This man was very quick to point out to me that he was disabled. He had the handicap tag hanging from his rear view mirror and a cane on the floor of the passenger seat. I was more asphyxiated on his familiar face, he vaguely looked like one of my high school English teachers. He was disabled, I understood this much. He was also from the suburbs. Ok, got it. And finally, he needed money for gas to get back out to the burbs. This was at a point where I literally had about $30 to my name. I never did catch his name.
Money. It can get you a lot of fuel. You could get to any suburb with enough money.
I went to a wake for the first time in my life the other day. It was really quite a beautiful evening. And of course the people who didn't go are all asking, "What happened? Did she die from ____?" How the hell else is someone my age supposed to die? Unless it's obvious, (ie. Wayne Gacy) how the hell is anyone supposed to assume how anyone else dies? You are the only person who will really know the ending to your own narative. Well there really are quite a few ways to go. I think it'd be fun if "Singing in the Rain" were played at my funeral and everyone participated in a coordinated dance.
Actually, no. I take it back. I just want my corpse freeze dried and launched out into deep space. I want my body to float through the universe until it either crash lands into a meteor or until it burns up in the atmosphere of that fake planet Pluto. Anyone remember it? It's kind of the underdog of planets,. so yeah. I think that'd be a good destination.
I have come to the determination that we should all be happy when our time comes. I think death should be a beautiful thing. People who have accounted their near death experiences mention how peaceful they felt while slipping into the afterlife. I think that these experiences were/are true. I mean to be bombed by Israeli artillery would not be a very happy or peaceful way to go, but say you get hit by a Cadillac while crossing the street. It could be ok, right? Or if a pool table fell out of a tree? Bah, it's useless.
In the creed of Don Piano,
"Why I eyes ya, all the live long day"
The end.
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