Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Pants On Fire

I decided to share my creative writing project with a couple friends. About a week ago I started posting my recent rambles onto our mutual mailing list.

Now they are all chasing me with rope, pitchforks, and torches. If you see any spelling errors, blame them on me for typing while running. (TWR) I'm a big fan of hyperbole, while they're big fans of peace, love, unity, and respect. (PLUR) It seems I've peed on the disco ball and pooped on the turntables. I have committed a grave sin by declaring dancers to be epileptics. They are, in fact, people "expressing themselves" and "getting down and having a time, yo." So I'm a big asshole for failing to do the whole ritalin victim thing and having the gall to mention it in public.

Hold it, wait a second. I thought I was the uptight guy. Reflecting back, it's not I. It is they that are taking themselves too seriously. In fact, I'm quick to skewer myself. I'll douse myself in gasoline and let people throw matches if I think they'll enjoy it. That's one way to get me dancing.

So, ravers and clubbers, I call upon you to thicken your hides. Don't be so sensitive about the ways you have fun. I'm not attacking you. I'm just having fun in my own sarcastic way. Keep up the do-si-dos and the pirouettes and I'll keep making ridiculous pronouncements.

Get mad at the government, not me. I can't hurt you.
4:24 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


February 01, 2005 5:11 PM, Blogger Wyatt Junker said...

Its relative. You are a mover and a shaker in the morgue, but on the dance floor you are stricken with debilitating gout.

In a roomful of retards you are their brainiac, their prophet-child, but at the Mensa gathering you are the drool cup poster boy.

I'm with you. In high school I was the cool fucker with the retro grandpa golfing plaid pants and shirts with matching pimp collar. Very Mod chic. Little did they know, I was just low on funds.

Find a beautiful person. You can bet, they looked like Mike Tyson's stool in the delivery room.

February 01, 2005 7:12 PM, Blogger martin luther KAEng said...

The power of the written word and the delicate truths that we often scribe angers many, huh? It appears that we share the same sarcastic approach to life that no one else seems to have a grasp on. Things are said not to inflict harm to others but rather so that we will not inflict harm to ourselves by keeping it all bottled in....

Anyway dude, you are a literary riot and i am lovin' every moment of it...

February 02, 2005 2:43 AM, Blogger Wyatt Junker said...

Indeed, this guy is good. I need to post a link on my site.

February 03, 2005 9:59 AM, Blogger Bookfraud said...

somebody didn't take their X before slamming you. As the Romans said, illegitimi non carborundum, or fuck em if they can't take a joke. bastards.


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