Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Cycles

The actual B&J Pizza Slice used in the video
                                                        Hint: Keep pressing 7 if you want to hear the funny part over and over.

My days are basically like doing the most complicated mechanical repair on the side of a busy road on the hottest day of the year...while dealing with the most annoying policeman asking what you are doing and searching you for drugs. The stress eventually bubbles over into rants like this. I wanted to learn what America is really about and I've learned and I don't like the answer and it makes no difference. No medals and no congratulations. Merely blunt orders to get off the property and ignorant people who never left their chicken coop telling me I'm wrong about everything. hahaha.



But I remind myself that in 1812 this was all Karankawa country and they were very accurate with arrows and the Comanche would kill whatever made it further west. And then the Comanche were all killed by the roach-like immigrants...and the immigrants were killed by scurvy and nasal myasis except for the ones who survived and drilled for oil and shot hogs. So, my daily trials are basically the same as in 1812 except the approaching crop failures and scorching droughts that will render water scarce are simply another problem to deal with. I think this all relates to my simplified living concept that still maintains that it makes absolutely no difference what your day to day trials are like because they will be equivalent to 200 years ago or 200 years from now. Life is not some kind of assembly line where you build a perfect situation that can replicate itself. That's the fabrication packaged by Walmart office whores...which is funny because their lives are no different either so the self deception must be either completely lost to them or they drown it out with anti-depressants. Who knows?

Lack of response from the Hog Hunter makes me believe it's a lost cause. So I've moved onto plan B which is save some money and drive to the Yucatan Peninsula. It can't be any more dangerous than driving recently released felons around with retarded guys and blind men tossing port-o-potties around for $2 an hour. The cartels don't scare me anymore. Of course if you push pencils and collect disability then you might be afraid of the cartels. Not me. I'm destined for a state hospital or Mexican Jail and my problems stem from trying to avoid this fate. Embrace the inevitable because the ping pong room at the loony bin is absolutely no different than the waiting room at the labor hall. NO DIFFERENT.
Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.