Your Certificate

 

Fuck All Vets

 

Our Fragile Planet

This fragile planet Earth has been rolling around this middle-aged star called the Sun for 4.5 billion years. That's a long time from a human perspective with two noteworthy exceptions being geologists and astronomer. Both of these are both comfortable with ages in scientific notation. Both  consider the Earth a tempestuous adolescent. For the rest of humanity, a few consecutive TV commercials are  hell one of tax on our attention span.



While still learning to be a baby planet, the Earth was slammed by asteroids the size of McDonald's restaurants, printing presses, microwaves, Mercedes, and a few the size of small nation-states. Specifically, Belgium in particular. This period of asteroid assault is called "the Heavy Bombardment Period." Adding insult to injury, our little green planet was regularly bled by hundreds and thousands of volcanoes. It was smothered in acrid gas and drowned in acid baths. Our fragile blue dot was battered by 200 meter tsunamis and churned by whiplash tides. It fractured beneath a plague of bacteria which inhaled cyanide and returned corrosion. This planet became a living hell which gave rise to a blanket of algae and other squishy things that crept around the oceans primordial. Some of Earth's first passengers were stranger than some of the people I know… almost. You know who you are. 


The Earth is long-suffering.

 
Earth was but a toddler when she was sideswiped by an uninsured planet with the mass and aggressive attitude of Mars, called Theia. The Earth wasn't a total loss. As a matter of fact, this collision is often acknowledged in knowledgeable circles as a blessing. During the impact the Earth lost a divot of rocky mantle larger than our moon. Oddly enough, some of this material became our Moon. At least that's one of the more reasonable theories of how the Moon came to be. Another theory includes a sky god and mother Earth unchaperoned on Prom night. No matter how our Moon came to be, without our gravity locked satellite life on Earth could not exist. That's my theory. You can use it too. Still, after all the abuse, our little island in the Cosmos remained partnered with our local star. 

The Earth is indomitable and, aside from a single indiscretion with a sky god, primarily monogamous.

As for us, we're not so indomitable, but we can be abusive. We subjected the Earth to nuclear bombs dropped on and detonated under her skin. We blasted her ozone sunscreen with propellants because humans perspire more than we think we should. We've burrowed holes in her 2.5 miles (4 km) deep to remove her mineral-rich innards. In recent years, we've taken to pelting her with a nice assortment of our space junk. We've polluted her with plastic, oil spills, depleted uranium, nerve agents, nuclear waste, incinerator dust, landfill leachate, designer biological agents only meant to kill other humans, the Kardashians, infomercials, drinking straws, tampon applicators, and countless gigantic piles of everything else we didn't want around us. We've piled all this crap on roadsides, national parks, and once in a while neatly layered in landfills with a geomembrane permeability of 10^-7. No matter what the method of disposal, the disposer calls the shit disposed of gone. In the eyes of our fragile planet, it's still here. 

The Earth is forbearing.

 

 I'm certain we'll find new, exciting, more sustainable ways to piss off our home world in the eons to come. That's what separates us from the rest of the Animal Kingdom: Elephants still only knock down trees, termites still only devour them, and the Kardashians still just suck, but we human beings are accidentally creative and unwittingly innovative in our destructive ways. 

Our Mother Earth is a classic Renaissance woman who in spite of our best efforts is more beautiful today than she was in her youth.


She's like a wise old cab driver, she's seen everyone and everything come and go with the exception of her current passengers. She will see us go in due time, as well. That's inevitable for there is a time and a season for everything and everyone.
 

Our tiny blue raft in the cosmos is a tough old broad who we should respect and treat with kindness, but the last thing she needs is for us to save her.

She even tolerates our hubristic bullshit about "Saving the Planet" when it's really us who needs saving. Let's not lose sight of who the weaker partner is in this relationship. She's tolerant. She is very tolerant.

Lucky Guesses

Following current trends:

1) First off, Andy Warhol was wrong about everything. Everyone will not be famous for fifteen minutes. It's far worse. Everyone will THINK they're famous all the fucking time.

2) Cable TV will be all infomercials which everyone pays $600 a month to watch as an alternative to the internet which has been totally dominated by women posting cute dog and cat pictures and posting memes about how strong they are for (temporarily) leaving the "narcissist" they are still head over heels in love with.

3) Wars will be scheduled like Monday night football and the results will be just as rigged.

4) The food we eat will be so toxic you can die from grocery shopping, therefore peapod home delivery will be done by Amazon drones.

5) Everyone will be an Amazon partner which means we all slavishly work for Bezos.

6) The dollar will collapse and be entirely replaced by Bezos Bucks worth 8 cents in Amazon store credit. Shipping is still free for Prime customers who pay $300 a month and swear a blood oath.

7) Every single recreational drug will be legal but taxed so high “illicit” drug dealers still run the market. The real difference is their quality is better, price is cheaper, and the 10th purchase is half off with a full punch card.

8) Frequent flyer miles will expire before you are ever awarded them so they are only used by the rich to impress other rich people because they are as useful as a Faberge egg.

8) The word “mouse” will only be recognized as a midget clown sex worker which is all the rage because everything else is passe.

9) Republicans and Democrats alternate as President every four years after outlawing third parties in 2067, "just to keep things fair." We still vote but our votes don't really change anything, just like today. The Party in power claims that everything is much, much better now, while the Party out of power will claim the world is going to shit fast. Four years later they reverse their rhetoric. Nothing else changes... ever, also just like today.

10) Independence Hall burned down in 2076 supposedly caused by Climate Change. The original copy of the Constitution was lost and "no one knows what those words read" even though you can still find word for word text of "the Document" which are dismissed as conspiracy "Fake Docs" published by White Males.

11) Goats and goat products will be impossible to find after the IPCC black listed them as top CO2 producers. They were renamed “Bearded Sheep” to avoid draconian taxation.

12) Cops won't exist anymore. Everyone will be “troned” (you'll have to wait to figure out what I'm talking about) a computer generated random charge which you can either pay over 10 to 20 years at 13% to 30% depending on your Amazon account status or you can pay a lawyer who will get you a better deal, assuming you are a subscriber to Amazon Law.

13) China makes EVERYTHING including American children, which are actually Mexican knock ups... er... offs. Something about labor costs.

That's what I got.

PS- Still no flying cars... The skies are packed with drones.

I'm a Fucking Genius!

A Picture is Worth its Words

CUFFS for Congress

Now you're ready to represent us!

With the campaign season roaring into high gear, I thought it appropriate to re- re- reintroduce my campaign finance reform in three sentences, which I call the Congress Unchained From Financial Scumbags Act or CUFFS.

 1.  Only registered voters who live in a candidates district may contribute. 

2.  Each registered voter may donate a maximum of $500.00 indexed to inflation per candidate. 

3. All money not spent on the current campaign are forfeit to fund campaign finance enforcement.

Congress has spent the better part of fifty years debating Campaign Finance and has yet to produce anything as sensible, equitable, simple, and revenue neutral as that.

Put the CUFFS on Congress!

The Coming Regional Darkness

This is how a confidence scam (not science) is run...

Dogs vs. Cats

I've always been a dog guy. It's not that I hate cats, they're cool in their oddly retarded way, but I'm a dog guy by nature. There is a photo of me in diapers pushing Mr. Salty pretzels up our dog Duke's nose. Duke was understanding and entertaining, which are just a couple of the many dog talents which put me in their camp. Duke would sit patiently as I pushed the pretzel nearly half its length into his nostril before turning his head and blasting the edible missile from his nose with a snort. This amazing feat was rewarded by my uproarious laughter and the reloading of his nose. This puppy awesomeness went on for hours. Although I have no recollection of the event, the one thing I am certain of is no cat would have tolerated my behavior for an instant. Most cats can't stomach me as an adult, and surely not as a toddler... which aside from size is still the essence of my being.

In spite of my doggy disposition, I met a kitten that I adopted as a special needs child. Honestly, I had no intention of doing any such foolish thing, but my girlfriend decided that we would, and you understand how this became my decision as well. It wasn't much of a kitten, more pathetic mewing sliver of dark fur. It had the misfortune of being the runt of the litter, and then rejected by it's mother. 

Tabitha, my girlfriend, had a mothering instinct disproportionate to her available time, hence the furry whelp became my collateral responsibility. Not old enough to have been weaned from its mother, I improvised a feeding teat using surgical gloves. While effective, latex lacks the puncture resistance natural tits enjoy  so the stench of sour Similac became a regular accessory of my wardrobe. During those feedings I found myself not totally loathing the little beast.

What seemed years, but now I recognize as weeks, the kitty was on solid food and I was commensurately less smelly to boot. A win-win for me and my increasingly less loathsome feline friend.

Did I say, "friend"? Wow! But... I'm a dog guy. I am ambivalent towards all cat kind. Well, all cat kind less one, our little... uh. He didn't have a name. We, being Tabby, myself, and the kitten, had tried on a few names from time to time; Jen, Ninja, Snooker, Smoker, and a handful of others that stuck to the kitty as well as they have to my memory. None of them fit the furry one. It seemed a lost cause as one moniker after another came with great potential, but lost it's appeal like a bowl of milk swollen cereal neglected for hours.

At night the nameless one in the furry black pajamas would crawl onto my chest and nuzzle her tiny head under my chin. As I drifted off into another fitful pornographic dream... Out came her razor sharp talons digging deep bloody furrows into the tender flesh of my chest. In burning pain I exorcised the clawed demon from my chest and into the closet across the room. She disappeared from sight into a knee deep pile of clothing and sex toys Tabby would also occasionally disappear into while getting dressed. My primal scream came out, "Lucifurry!" 

Simultaneously, the cat was named and I was converted once and for all to the dominion of dogs. Yeah, I'm a dog man because dogs are loyal, trustworthy, and make great pretzel cannons. Cats, none of the above. 

Dependability, loyalty, and a willingness to go the road with you no matter how rocky, muddy, or treacherous that road may be are exclusively dog qualities which are mutually exclusive to the cat.

I believe that all my friends fall neatly into two classifications; dogs or cats. Although, both my occasionally pee on your carpet the dog will feel guilt, remorse, and frankly so God damn sorry they will sit in the corner and look pathetic and lonesome until you offer forgiveness in the form of a scratch behind the ears. Then, all is well with the world and everyone in it.

The vile cat giving your carpet a liberal dousing of ammonia laced urine will demonstrate its disdain for the rest of your home decor by shredding it to threads.

You can love a cat, feed it, brush it, buy it all kinds of expensive toys, and gourmet food (as if there are cat gourmet chefs) that a third of the planet's human population would kill for... but without warning, without reason, or maybe just for fun the cat will claw the shit out of you.

That's the permanent asshole nature of the cat. It cannot be removed. 

Oh sure, the cat my offer its regards once in a while by dropping an equally shredded bird carcass at your feet. But the dog, he'll show you he fricken’ loves you by dropping a slobber marinated cat corpse at your feet. The enemy of my enemy is this man’s best friend.

Aww! He'll even settle for Second Best Friend

Like I said, all my friends fall neatly into two classifications: dogs or cats and this is the entire point of this pointless penning...

Keep your dogs and lose your cats. Your life will be better for it. 

Sock and Buskin

The Secret of My Success

I Live in a Clown Motel

Working at a motel has helped me to appreciate that we are all just travelers here. We come, we stay awhile, and we return from whence we came. Some come and find pleasure, others find only pain. Some come to find Love, others live and die with hearts of dust. Some come to bask in the light, others complain day and night,  "It's too damn bright!" Some come and plan to be somewhere else but always stay here. Some would like to come, but they'll never make it, I fear. Some come for direction, but go disappointed because you can't get there from here. Some come beautiful but leave a mess. Some come and go, "Jesus Monica! What's that stain on your dress?" Some come from cradle to grave clean and clear. Others carry a briefcase that's a vanishing case of beer. Some stay so long you wish they'd commit suicide. Others come and go so fast they don't have time to say good-bye. Some come and ponder, "What's this traveling all about?" Others go hunting for white tailed deer and fishing for trout.  As for me, I'm amazed at all the travelers, hikers, and passing company. Please, say good-bye and drop of the key before you leave.

My Asshole Brother

There are few things in life that will totally fuck up your life than an asshole brother, especially if he is an opinionated, asshole brother like mine. Doubly so, if he is an opinionated, asshole brother who inflicts his options on you, not only without your consent, but without so much as consulting you. That, my friends, is what cancer does. It also shares a similar genetic makeup. Now, the cancer doesn't think, nor will it ever admit, that it's doing you any harm. After all, can't we all just get along. Your life is too short (and getting shorter by the minute) for such trivial matters as chemotherapy. Live and let metastasize. You see, the cancer is helping you. It's making you stronger, just like it. Who wouldn't want to be a tumor? In an inconvenient location? Destroying the very flesh you love and live... Who? I ask you, Who?

Every-fucking-body EXCEPT the cancer. 

The cancer holds a very high regard for itself. So high, it cannot imagine anyone ever wanting to be anything else. If they did... they would be mad. Stark raving mad. They would have to be. I mean, look at me... I'm cancer!

Beautiful, destructive to others, powerful, and God damn successful! I'm more popular than everything except heart disease, but I'm gaining ground... self-consecrated ground. Which is exactly where I should stand because I'm a blessing. Every word I speak should be recorded in the Great Quotes of Humanity. I make the most interesting man in the Universe look dull. There is only one thing I don't understand... with seven billion people on this planet, why I am the only one fit to command.

CANCER RULES! 

FORMIDABLE and WISE

When I was a child, my father would say the most peculiar things; odd things, indecipherable things, things beyond my five year-old comprehension. Being intellectually lazy and a quick study, I learned how to react to his curious utterances by mimicking the reactions of the adults in the room. My father was a formidable man and I understood that we were all pretending to understand his incomprehensible utterances. It made perfect sense as a five year-old. Hell, it makes perfect sense to me today at fifty-one. Like I said, my father was a formidable man.

One day my father was speaking about an unmarried cousin who was about to become a father when he made the most enigmatic comment he ever spoke,

"A stiff Dick has no conscience."

I understood to take my cue from the adults in the room, bow my head and look remorseful. I understood that this Dick guy was not a nice boy. I understood that we didn't have any cousins named Dick. I understood my father was formidable man and a complete mystery at times.

Today, I see so many overworked, exhausted unwed mothers and now these many years later...

I understand my father was both formidable and wise.

With Love for the Ladies

Men are truly simple creatures.
We come in tall or short,
fat or thin, and rich or poor.
That’s the extent of our diversity.
Don't bother looking for more.

One additional attribute
Bound to catch your eye
Is the boundless almost innumerable
Clans of "asshole” we currently occupy.

If I tried my best to hazard a guess
The Sarcastic Asshole Clan is mine
Where I have resided for a very long time

Women are a different creation, you see
When my song is sung your girl will be like
Finally a man who understands me!
Please don't take that personally.
The lyrics are an education
Learn quickly gents while the tuition is free.

There are many things a
Woman can and will be
one at a time up to twenty-three
simultaneously, maybe more.
I lose track constantly.
Count on your fingers or just nod
and smile along with me.
Here we go fasten your seat belts
tightly...

She can be
The last breath of Fall
The first hint of Spring
Awkward at times
but always a Beautiful thing.

Her voice is a perfect tenor.
the angels say, “God sent her.”
Have you heard her sing
(Yup, a beautiful thing)

She’s a cool summer shower
A hot masseuse who won't
Charge by the hour.
It's a contract deal you see
Is that seven or eight so far
It's a mystifying mystery

She’s a mom and a mistress,
A professional prom dress seamstress
She'll make an igloo a cozy place
With her tasteful knickknacks she got
at a steal shopping with Whatsherface
Her best friend for twenty years,
but her weird name always escapes.
So, it's "Whatsherface".

Now, I've lost my place, oh yeah
She's a Maytag repairman,
Sorry, Miss, repair ma'am
Do the math or a make a wild guess
You'll be wrong at what comes next.

Aw, what the hell? She changed
from a bathing beauty into an alchemist.
She'll turn lead to gold while feeding the
Baby on her breast, with absolutely no mess.
Hell, the baby and I are both impressed

When she enters the room,
She’s the girl next door
Meets Rosie the Riveter
Who won the Second World War
(While being cute)

Germans never knew what hit ‘em.

"Mine Got! It vas a whole bunch of Vimen!"

She’s got the caboose and the engine
Home or office freight train
running just a little late again
She had to stop to make snowmen
in the pouring rain.
Don’t ask her to explain
There she goes again!

She’s a doctor, nurse,
And ambulance driver
A sushi chef or a
Deep sea diver.




She’s a Queen, Jack,
Or a fighter Ace. 

Just give her ten minutes 

to put on her face.
An hour or so will go to waste.
(She was beautiful to begin with!)

That’s okay she can win the race
At the gym, the mall, office
or for that parking space.

"Back off! It’s mine!"

That's the Parking Lot
Asshole Clan kind.

She’s a silent poem and
Every love song.
In an argument you’ll
Always be wrong.
(Don’t you love that?)

In the end we both win
Some tender loving and...
What was that problem again?
(It never mattered)

She’s a broker, a banker,
and a naughty boy
Bare bottom spanker.

Ouch!

She’ll be late on foot,
by car, or unicycle.
She’s insists she can be
late for anything...
except her menstrual cycle.
(Amen!)

She’ll get the kids to bed on time
On that you can bet your last dime.
(She wills it!)

She’s a soothing ointment
or a witches brew
At night she’ll be a fine wine
In a glass or two
So will you when it’s
Just the two of you
Dancing around the room
Like you used to do
(Why’d we ever stop?)

She’ll fall asleep
With her head on your chest
In the morning, you made
Her hair a mess!
Hair Messing Asshole Clan 

is my guess.

She’s a caregiver
And a lunch order taker
An interior designer
And birthday cake baker

She’ll plant a garden
Watch it bloom
It’s her laughter
That lights up the room
(I love you.)

She’s Mrs. Santa, a reindeer,
Or a friendly elf,
Cleopatra, Laura Croft
Or Mother Eve, herself.

She’s a photo finish
And the forbidden fruit
She’s the hottest model
in a photo shoot

Well, guys this song is
down to the wire.
Put it to work.
you’ll discover
I’m no liar..

We’re just simple men
Short, fat, lean, or tall
So, for the ladies let's take a
moment of pause in awe.
(Look into her eyes, dummy.)
Now, let’s give ‘em all
A HUGE round of applause!
(Keep clapping. No, seriously keep clapping.)

Keep loving them, too
That’s the best we
simple creatures can do
A goodnight to the ladies
And your simple creatures, too.

HTB Chronicills - Current Crimes, Vol. III (An HTB Alcohology)

Character Color Index:
  Narrator’s lines: Black Text
  Author’s lines: Red Text
  Harold’s lines: Snorted hours ago

Begin your journey where you’ll meet Harold’s Tails. Stagger forwardish through Harold’s HTB Chronic-ills: Collection of Current Crimes, Vol. III the first two are in hock at the pawn shop (just like Spielberg when he started Star Wars with Episode IV). Meet Harold the Bum and his assortment of sordid sorts; mostly habitual, usually criminal, one magical, another non-corporeal, and a couple are exclusively cranial. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll throw up blood, and die. It will be fun, you’ll see. Follow me, I’m the Narrator who knows all and sees all. You’d be amazed at all the stuff I know. Being a Narrator is about as close to being God as any entity can achieve without being the Supreme Being. So, if you have any quest…

(Indecipherable grumbling from off stage.)

Well, I just thought it might be nice if the audience could participate in a dialogue with the Narra…

(Much louder and angry indecipherable grumbling from off stage.)

No… Very well. Okay then, we’ll do that then…

(Narrator resumes his PROPER function sharing his nothing like God, limited scope of knowledge with the audience as written by the author, who is much closer to The Maker, being a maker of things unlike narrators)

Yes, we’ll since the audience has read all that, I’ll just continu…

As written! As written!

Okay, I get it. I get it. (In a tone of exaggerated sincerity, the narrator resumes) Narrator resumes his proper function sharing his nothing like God, limited scope of knowledge with the audience as written by the author, who is much closer to The Maker, being a maker of things himself, unlike narrators.
(Narrator snaps) There! Was that good enough!?

(Author’s turn: Sounds of a backstage brawl which carries on for several minutes as audience listens to the pleading and alternate screams of the narrator, and then concludes with the narrator’s whimpering and sobs. Finally, thank Author, the narrator continues his narration after being penned a good thrashing in a “come to Author” encounter. A thrashing which could be easily and almost infinitely repeated should Author so choose. Anytime, anywhere, buddy.
Now, begin again.

(In a tone of serious fucking contrition, the narrator resumes) 

Meet Harold the Bum *sob* and his assortment of sordid sorts; mostly habitual, usually criminal, one magical, another non-corporeal (narrator motions an imperceptible finger at his undetectable self), and a couple of them are exclusively cranial. *sob, sniffle* You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll throw up blood, and die. It will be fun, you’ll see. Follow me, to the land of dry heave, stomach churning thrills, millions of rats, and unidentified pills, catch the latest, easily-transmitted and always terminal case of The HTB Chronic-ills.

You go ahead. I’m not feeling very well. I’ll catch up later. *sob* And now a word from our sponsor…

HTB’sHomeless Academy 

Coor's Katalog

Undergrounduate Studies

1000 LEVEL GLASSES


Intro to Vagrancy - 0 Credits

Applied Squatting - Credit Free

Recreational Chemistry - Creditless

There's more to come from your resident bum... when he sobers up, because education is the only way to fully grasp how fucked you really are.

"It doesn't take a village to raise a child. 

However, it does take a village to raise an idiot."

Hurray we're Fucked

Thomas Midgley Jr. is not a common household name, but it aught to be. Tom was a chemist who solved one of humanity’s pesky issues with the internal combustion engine. Knock and ping was nearly eradicated by Mr. Mingley’s innovative idea to supplement gasoline with safe cheap and effective lead. He was subsequently awarded the prestigious American Chemical Society’s Nichols Medal in 1922 for his contribution to a greatly enhanced chemical society. A few years later, a few minor issues of greatly reduced sanity, lucidity, and rationality was noted at the factory where Tom’s Ethyl gasoline was refined. Tom created one minor issue which may have lead led to the extinction of all life on Earth. Tom went on to invent chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) to propel our deodorant and expel our ozone. The deleterious affects of CFCs went unnoticed until some 30 years, and a hole in the ozone half the size of the Atlantic Ocean, later. Bill Bryson remarked of Midgley, “[He had] an instinct for the regrettable that was almost uncanny.” You win some, mentally handicap others, and you almost lose everyone. That’s life. What the hell are you going to do?

Another scientist, whose name is equally alien to household discussions, stumbled upon Midgley’s oversight when he noted the ozone was evaporating faster than the Kardashian’s television ratings and an alarming number of terrestrial species, Kardashians most notably, were going retarded from lead gasoline additive. This researcher probably received a grant and a wall plaque before continuing on to fuck up other things someone else will have to figure out someday. That’s science. What the hell did you do?

In an attempt to restore his good name, Midgley would demonstrate how safe his lead laden hydrocarbons were by washing his hands in and huffing the gas for thirty seconds at a time. Inhalant abuse has seldom improved one's social standing, however his performance did improve the marketability of leaded gasoline for a few decades. That's hypoxia. He's turning blue.

In the golden years of Midgley’s life, chemistry’s karmic clown came a calling, and awarded Tom with a crippling case of polio. This may bring a smug smile of Gia’s retribution to both my post-modern druid and Seattle environmentalist readers. That’s misanthropy. What the hell is wrong with you?

Being the creative/ destructive being that Tom Midgley proved to be, he solved one of polios pesky paralysis issues by devising a harness, rope, and pulleys system which allowed others to get his now medal and award weighted, yet paralyzed body out of bed. Being a man of reason, Tom was woefully unaware of the finality karmic clown’s expect from their paybacks. Their motto is, “When the clown puts you down, God damn it, stay down.” That’s liable. What the hell is a Karmic clown going to do?

Before Tom could receive another award for his mechanical marionette ingenuity, the clown dropped the curtain on Tom when he became entangled in his harness and ropes which strangled him to death. Druids and environmentalists offer a standing ovation. That's ironic, and it's all true.

Small Crimes and Heavy Breathing in Green Lake

We have all spent an afternoon at or in Green Lake. If you haven’t, you must because a summer afternoon spent in the natural ambiance of Green lake will be well worth the price of making my initial assertion true. We know the trendy neighborhood which surrounds our beloved Emerald City’s Emerald Oasis. As an act of omaĝe or attention deficit bloom, we named that hipster neighborhood... “Green Lake”, as well. Let’s keep it simple for the Climate Change Deniers, and guys like me who felt compelled to wear my SCUBA gear from Woodlands Park Zoo until I safely crossed NW 85^th Street in fear of getting the benz. Let’s keep that last part confidential, between you and I, and the thirteen hundred or so other people that will read this and carry my, er… our secret to the grave. Speaking...er whispering of secrets, very quietly whispering of secrets...

Let's keep this one under wraps, too. I was so fucking close, another six feet and I would have made it. And it's my roommate's truck whom I told, "Wow! That's fucked up man. Who the fuck would do some dumb shit like that to a dude like you who usually pays his part of the rent within a reasonable time frame pretty much usually? Fucked up shit, it must have been stolen some time during the night, whilst* we slept."

* For those of you not incubated on this planet or within the last three centuries, the word "whilst" only makes an appearance in literature which can only be categorized as "Pure fucking fairy tales". Nowhere, else is it used in the modern English language, nor should it.

Anyways, we’ve all been totally ripped off ordering a coffee and vegan Danish or maybe it was a sandwich thingy because we were in coffeeshop poet turf way over our heads but thought we could fit in. They saw you and your single color, non-architectural haircut coming since the Northgate Mall MasterCuts. The coffee was really good. However, the vegan, whole something, ancient grain, fair trade, ozone replenishing (their claim, not mine) stuff on a gluten free ciabatta was not, in my estimation, a fair trade. Nevertheless, we still love Green Lake like a shining beacon on a hill… strike that. Like a brilliant guiding light drawing the highest concentration of acceptably tattered Che Guevara tee-shirts in the nation per capita. Shocking, isn’t it? It Rekindles the heady days of the 1980 Winter Olympics’ “Miracle on Ice” USA Hockey team. Green Lake trounces West Seattle in both the Che tee-shirt quantity and the exquisite dog-eared patina categories.

Viva Lago Verde! Shame on you, West Seattle. Where have you’re “So Left, we’re gone” values gone? Is that redundant?

Who cares? We’ll cross that West Seattle bridge if and/or when we need to, which isn’t now. We love Green Lake, because it’s cool and we’re cool. At least, I am and you’re… working on it. Coolness always attracts coolness, and Green Lake is no exception. It’s a textbook...nah, make that a Google Maps example!  

To the South of Green Lake stands Freemont like a fucking gangster keeping all that other Seattle weird shit outta’ our Seattle. Good looking out, G!

To the West is Ballard, which has a long history of sticking it to “the man”. Right on, Ballard! Ballard was an independent city until Seattle surrounded Ballard, then cut its water lines and forced Ballard to bow to “the man”. Boo, Seattle! Fremont’s gonna’ be running all up in your house soon.

To the North, straight up, is Crown Hill! How fucking cool is that shit? Green Lake wears a crown!

Ya’ know what? Fuck the neighbors. We love Green Lake because it is everything that makes it Green Lake, and not the shit that makes stuck up Mercer Island, or practically quarantined Magnolia, and most of all Green Lake is definitely not, I think I’m gonna’ puke, Shoreline.  

Granted, in Green Lake Bourgeois Capitalists still exploit the poor, dumb proletarian who, through no fault of their own, mistakenly mis-order a forty-dollar coffee and thingy, making wage slaves of us all for their decadent, imperialist conquests. The rest of Green Lake is spot on, though. Look…

Check this shit out. From this angle, Green Lake represents its street cred because…
Need I say more? Shut up! You’re not the boss of me… I call it, “synergy” because almost no one ever knows what that word means, even when it applies, which it does. So, I’m calling it what it is, which is “synergy.” Big whoop! Che would have taken a big Shoreline sized poop had he known his image would be co-opted by some hipster wearing Hollister trust-fund baby because daddy bought a hundred shares of MSFT in 1986.
Mercifully, Che lost his head in 1967, the year of my birth (Yup, it’s official,” synergy”), so El Comandante wouldn’t take a big, smelly Magnolia over Vietnam sacrificing a million Worker’s to spend their lives in Marxist-Leninist government sweatshops making Levi’s for the West. Hey, a buck’s a buck, and that’s a day’s wage for Ho Chi Min’s kids today.  Yeah, Communism is depressing because it’s like when you find out that the presents under the Christmas Tree didn’t come from Santa’s magical sweatshop elves, they were just made by non-magical sweatshop Southeast Asians. Same stature, but way different accent… depressing. Ah, well, pop a grip of Paxil and we’ll go to Green Lake.
Green Lake is multifaceted and unpredictable, see? This is Green Lake without the lip. However, it has the rest of the human features intact.
The testicle dropping thing about Green Lake is that it hides the visage of a real Working-Class hero… One even Che would proudly sport upon his chest. Si? I mean, See? Viva Dilbert!
Now, to seal the proverbial deal for the Grande Macho Cajones, you’re getting a pony, kind of cool that Green Lake exudes… Here they are exuding beautifully. Makes you just want to support that type of lactationaly exuding firm, ripe coolness. You gotta’ reach out and gently gather it all in your hand and squeeze. Communism is depressing. This shit is not. Fuck Communism. On, first thought, just keep your Communism and I'll be entertaining them and the other thirteen hundred or so other people who read this... concurrently. Like I said, I love Green Lake. In conclusion, Personally I don’t give a phuoc if you do or not. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass and rice bowl lunch menu meal at the Fila factory in Vũng Tàu.  I fucking love Green lake. Well, Love ya’, love your show, but I gotta’ go… to Green Lake.

 Fuck yeah!