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March 05, 2007

Podium Ramblings

I’m bitter and grumpy. It’s a sign, not like a road sign, but more like a prophet’s sandwich board sign saying “It’s all crap!” as he gives you a gaping mouth mad stare. The bastard. I know. There’s a lot out there, people with mouths, who will say that it’s all about what you surround yourself with. But that’s crap. It’s all crap oozing from the walls of civilization. Civilization’s only purpose to help make us forget about the crap. Irony is civilization’s just the same crap, different package.

 

The written word is dead, despite what you read online. I’m quitting one job only to get another, which seems idiotic in many ways. IF you quit a job, it obviously means that you don’t like jobs, so why get another one? Despite my bitterness and general, overall, grumpiness, I’m grateful for the old job and the new job.

 

Britney should have totally buried some of her hair with Anna.

 

In regards to the culture in which I live, the fact that I can write that sentence and understand how it is applicable, disgusts me in such a way that all I taste is the bitter fluid rising from my stomach.

 

One path towards bitterness is with the realization that your childhood will be repackaged and sold to everyone else, your feelings of uniqueness will be revealed as just that: feelings, and the only meaning in the universe is what you impart to it.

 

Get me a shovel, the crap is thick and I’d like to stretch out.

 

A better road to bitterness is through good coffee. Maybe an Italian wine.

 

I don’t remember the drive in to work this morning. The beginning I remember, dropping Jasmine off I remember, but then it fades into this haze, a quiet ride through a clear morning, nothing particularly noticeable or exciting, a day lost due to the lack of tragedy.

 

Remember, burning your hang-nails off is far more efficient than biting them off, but you don’t get the free meal.

 

Remember, gravity, like evolution, only works if you believe in.

 

This is about the point where I’d start digressing into discussions about penises and vaginas, dicks and cunts:

 

There are a lot of politicians out there. I like the core of the system. But there are people involved. People tend to produce a lot of crap over their lives. A Politician’s no different, save, like celebrities, they get a lot of other people talking about how great (or bad) their crap is.

 

“Fuck your rambling! Give me coherence!” the other one said. The first just looked at him and grinned. The other one looked at him, then looked at his soup, “What did you do? What did you put in my soup?!” The first one glanced over at some bottles on the shelf, his gaze lingering on the bottle with the words “EXtra FIber” written in big, dark gold, letters.

 

The following is an actual speech an imaginary senator gave in my head one day.

 

“The time for action is now! With this new power structure, we have no choice but to take action in common cause against the terrors which are set against us! But there is only a limited amount of beauty left in the world, beauty that is inherent and owned by no one. So long as we can secure this resource from being exploited by outside influences, we will have victory over all obstacles. And so, it is my great pleasure to announce that we will…”

 

Poor senator, the podium ate him. It was hungry. Mad podiums are a danger to our native, free ranging, politicians and we must put a stop to them. Either that or begin to accept genetically altered, cage-fed, politicians into the food chain. Your choice. At least podiums just crap wood.