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Ramblin’, ramblin’, rammmm ………………………. Blin. (part three)

. If ants were the size of people and people the size of ants, ants would look down on us and say “Did you know they can barely lift their own body weight?”  Don’t you hate when you scream out the window at a couple of dickbags on their bicycles riding on a road with no shoulder but then you stop at a stop sign and get caught in traffic and they catch up to you and get off their bicycles, walk up to your car, pull down their stretchy pants and urinate right into your open window all over you? I know it happens to everybody but it’s still embarrassing.  Saying you need a female reporter to do a story on a female athlete is like saying you need a boring director to do a documentary on baseball.  There are no poets in the beehive, no philosophers in the anthill. So says the moth. We know what happens to the moth right?  I’m not one to go anthropomorphizing animals but yesterday I accidently looked at a dog taking a dump and we made eye contact and he gave me a “Why don’t you take a picture, it will last longer?” face if I’ve ever seen one.  Sometimes when I going to sleep I like to imagine angels are watching over me and I spread my legs wide enough for my balls to show.  I got a text last night from a friend saying he broke down in a rough area of town. Later he texted that he was going to have to walk to get help. Then later he sent me this message: “A large man is following me. So relieved! He must be with the neighborhood watch.” I didn’t hear anything after that. Thank goodness for the neighborhood watch.  3 a.m. and I’m alone on this long stretch of desolate road. I can see the light from miles away. It’s red. It stays red. I fidget with the radio and pretend not to notice. It has to change soon. I’m getting closer. It’s still red. I start to slow down but it has to change any second now. It’s been red way too long. I’ve slowed to a crawl but I will not stop. There is no reason to come to a full stop. It’s 3 a.m. and I can see there are no other cars on the road. I can see the light going in the other direction has turned yellow. Any second now. I refuse to bring my car to rest but the light stays red. “Fuck you!” I scream. “I’m not stopping.” It stays red. “I know what you’re doing.” I can’t roll through the intersection and the light knows this. It refuses to turn green. Not until I come to a complete stop. I’m not stopping and it’s not turning green. I’m going .0000001 mph. “Fuck you light! I know what’s going on. I know exactly what you’re up to!”  Thought I was pulling a loose thread on my shorts so I wrapped it around my finger and gave it a really hard tug. It was a ball hair. True story.  A downside of having a truly huge hog is when you’re in a lake a bass can swim up your urethra.   Why can’t I weed whack? My whacker apparently has two settings: 1. Doesn’t cut shit. 2. Damages neighbor’s fence.  It’s just like when you’re over at a friend’s house barefoot and you use his toilet and feel something wet on the floor around the bowl. Later when you’re licking your feet clean you just have to hope it was water. It’s like that.  Watching the end of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and finishing my Coke when I let loose the loudest belch I’ve ever belched and, believed with a melancholy certainty, will ever belch. Maybe it was the mood of the film but it felt like a very solemn occasion.  Tried to write a story about the trials and tribulations of a married couple from the point of view of their toaster but the only thing the toast-centric toaster was concerned about was their inability to make toast without it. After witnessing the shocking murder at the end it could only say “Down to one creature that can’t make toast without me.”  In a so-called democracy of 314 million people it makes me want to hit anyone who brings up the names Hillary Clinton or Jeb Bush as being possible presidential candidates in 2016 with a straight face in their straight face with a shovel. Are you fucking kidding me? And we have the balls to make fun of monarchies?  When rich people drive by a sign stating that there is a $1000 fine for damaging the bridge they are crossing, do they get the urge to pull over and go back and damage the bridge simply because they can afford it? Pretty sure I would.  You could just tell he had a high opinion of himself. It oozed out in his every word.  You just knew that when he and his friends went camping they slept intense.   Saw a piece of shit couch on the curb with a big sign saying “Free” on it. It sat there for two days. I stopped and flipped over the sign and wrote $300 on the other side. An hour later it was gone. Nobody wants to lug home a piece of shit. They will, however, steal a $300 couch.  Have you ever, after waking up from a really vivid dream, put fingers in both your ears and been amazed that the space between them is so small? If you move your fingers just outside your eyes it feels like it should be at least a couple inches wider. Sometimes a few feet or the size of a small theater.  Sometimes thick dust can look like powdered sugar. Like a funnel cake that has been sitting there a loooong time and is ready to die.  Overheard an argument a man on a cell phone was having. It was great. He was getting very worked up and at one point bellowed “If I’m a pair of pants then I know enough not to get out of the dryer until I’m dry!” I could have eavesdropped all day. A little hair of the dog that bit me. I think everyone has been there … bombed out of your mind, slumped in the back seat of a car, hurtling through the darkness muttering “God I love this song” over and over until the sax solo at the end of “Year of the Cat” almost brings you to tears. Your heart aching but you’re not sure why. Well, some people have been there. I feel sorry for the rest.

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