BAD TO THE BONE!

have'n grown up as the 2nd oldest gen X'er in a large all american irish catholic family as thee ahead of my time pre unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe durin' the 1970's...

 it was not all that uncommon fer families like ours and many others in small communities scattered like a lawn sprinkler across the country to gather together for sunday morn'n mass...secretly cheer'n in yer head as the local tulip sniff'n town drunk in the bejeweled dracula cape had finally finished sing'n "hallelujah" to his lobotomized congregation off key once again just so you could get a snack at half time... 

as you waited impatiently stand'n in a single file line with the rest of the zombie apocalyps to play the communal game of russian roulette with the metallic slurpee cup full of stale berry flavored kool-aid represent'n a middle eastern dead man's hemoglobin (allegedly) in hopes that the blue rinsed hemorrhoidal prune with the uncontrollable gingivitis issues who lived down the street from you had take'n her prescribed meds as prescribed that day

recite'n that tired hymn with him "how great thou art (as i cupeth thy fart)"

 hey kitten...ZIP IT! every kid with a canker sore back then wanted to be the next greatest Emily Dickinson or Suzanne Somers 

perform'n yer useless jedi mind tricks towards the head of the household

just so you could personally hand over a donation of 10% from their weekly earn'ns in the form of an understated pale blue check in order to take credit in hopes of earn'n a few more extra credit points as a future CASPER crusader and solidify'n a golden ticket inside the pearly gates when they passed the collection plate made outta a mini wicker basket gorilla glued to a toilet plunger rod they had purchased from Pamida's after christmas everything-must-go sale...

so proud to be a part of the pathetically phony though ritualistically cathartic catholic charity charade parade that would eventually help pay for the many sexually abused alter boys therapy and their shopp'n spree's at Hermes and Gucci later on in life

as bread winners spent endless dollars fer you to spend endless hours 

with a happy meal box riddled with pointless air holes (but a genius market'n scheme you have to admit) in hopes it would teach you how to care fer a lifeless solid mass of minerals pray'n they wouldn't pro create

though we all had gallantly geeked out fer the galaxy far far away...

secretly however...a large portion of the gen X population cheered gleefully fer Leatherface...

and who couldn't help but not fall in love with Michael Myers...the babysitter was our only kryptonite from ruin'n the nite while rule'n the nest from yer siblings beneath you

BUTT...that ain't all!

once the 1980's had rolled around...we were completely bored with our 

breathless pet and just wanted to see how fast and how far we could skip that worthless chunk of a shitty xmas prez across the lake to it's graveyard as we skipped school while chugg'n down on the 5th can of our fav-o-rit chemically enhanced communal wine 

by summer you were told in a stern voice to "get the fuck outta the house" 

when the Culligan man showed up mid morn'n on any random unannounced day of the week and under no circumstances explicitly told not to return til dinner was ready...after they gave one of you a 5 spot to run to the across the street to the Nasty Habit and buy them a box of Virginia Slims ultra lights 

even though secretly you knew better than to give a shit what they were up to by not return'n home until well after the overhead lamps were dance'n in the streets

oh and lest we ferget...if we ever got teased or the live'n shit kicked outta 

us or even shot in the leg by a bb gun from some EPT test bunny that lived down the street from yer bff grama's house at the time...we were told under no uncertain terms to “suck it up” or “kick the fucker where it counts” and my most memorable “don’t think i’m pay’n for this shit!”

and though we were still gallantly geek'n out over the galaxy far far away...

we desperately yearned fer Jason Voorhees as he callously though meticulously hacked his way thru titty city at the Crystal Lake camp grounds...

and screamed in sheer ecstacy as Freddy Krueger finger fucked his way thru our teenage dreams!

Even though we had to suffer through countless bags of bullshit that only trickled down to the majority of the minority from that senile geriatric jelly 

beaned junkie repuglicunt in the big house who completely ignored the world's biggest health crisis at the time which caused 89,343 deaths under his watch alone

yet we all collectively still managed to make it thru those tumultuous and terrify'n pimple parade years to get that all unimportant waste of parchment paper without turning into a slice of swiss cheese!

with the unfortunate but not all that surprise'n incident from the lone star

state in the city of Uvalde that happened last week...create'n 22 more caspers from Robb Elementary school to roam freely about the earth...

as terrified tikes tried desperately to contact their inept Roscoe P. Coltrane cavalry who waited roughly an hour outside the chaos before control'n the stand-off as they swiped left or right on their cell phone or checked to see approximately how close they were to their next STD (presumably) bring'n the grand total number of mass murders up to 214 in 2022 alone and it's not even the 4th of july yet!

of course leave it to just 50 rectally reprehensibly and religiously right

winged regurgitated repuglicunts in the senate to stand in some sadistic 3rd reich formation to care more about their power than they do about their people by completely stay'n silent on H.R.8 even though the democrats in the house had passed the the bill in 2021 after the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary that created 28 caspers just 10 years earlier

they wanna pass bills that will arm teachers to be imperial stormtroopers 

yet they don't trust them to teach kids unredacted history facts...ignore all lgbt issues and ban books that don't have the playboy bunny on the cover

they wanna overturn bills turn'n vaginal curly slides into their live'n vessel

yet they don't wanna help raise the results or lift them from hardships and squalor that those results reluctantly most likely will become accustomed to...where a majority of them will just end up make'n bongs during bible study as the others graduate with honors from pole dance classes by the 6th grade...so one has to wonder...why would they NOT want to pass a simple slice of legislation that is for the good of their constituents keep'n the casper count down since roughly 80% of the country has been on board now for years... 

while the other 20% earned an online degree crush'n their fav-o-rit malt beverage can against their forehead

one has to wonder WHY? WHY is this still happen'n? WHY once again?

i don't know...do you care to take a shot in the dark and guess?

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

YOU BETTER RUN!

i think it's this years rock-n-roll inductee Miss Patricia Mae Andrzejewski

who said it best in 1980 "you better run...you better hide...you better leave from my side...yeah!"

ok so maybe her hit was more of a bad break-up anthem than it was about

actual gun violence...however...this was the first song title that started dance'n in my head when i heard about the recent blood bath involve'n 10 people at a grocery store in a predominantly black neighborhood in Buffalo NY compliments of yet another unhinged wonder breaded mentally deranged racist rectal rat in tactical gear sack of excrement who live streamed his carnage...

in hopes most likely of try'na become the next top 10 netflix movie of the week played by some out of work actor hope'n fer an oscar win...well kittens his name needs not to be mentioned in my blog just to give that chemically imbalanced fucktard more jack-off headline material to beat-off to while he enjoys free room and board...free hot lunches...free cable tv...free work-outs while cumpete'n in the occasional complimentary throat plunge'n olympics durin' the communal showers hosted by Bubba and his bathroom buddies among many other amenities...

while those slain have to have those they left behind plant their plot!

now i'm not suggest'n that ALL mass shoot'ns have been perpetrated by 

only pure inbred love'n pimento'd bologna and velveeta cheese wizzed with a dollop of mayoglazed neo nazism alabasturd asswipes...

though somehow...fer some reason...survey says in the past 10 years 14 of the 20 mass shootings alone in the US have been just that…with unfortunately many more undoubtedly on the way after Buffalo

anyone notice'n a particular flame’n hot cheetos/not-so mello yello big gulp color scheme here?

with the masses on their complicit asses engulfed in the media tornadoes 

and the regurgitated religious vomit of "thoughts and prayers" after each and every mass shootin'…treat’n them more and more like picnics in the park for the whole family to enjoy while very few politicians dangle a carrot of some sorta legislative gun reform that will eventually just get buried under a sacrificial meatloaf offer'n from the GOP which has become all too common and all too complacent these days

BUTT however...

last week Giggles the Clown also known as the 43rd dipshit who would 

become the 1st ever commander-in-thief to win the presidency without winn'n the popular vote in over a century...draped his well known tarnished dilapidated flap jack'd A double snakes into a frivolous freudian slip and full of bullshit heels when he pathetically tried criticize'n Putin fer his atrocities in the Ukraine though admittedly say'n "blah blah blah....a wholly unjustified and brutal war in Iraq!" before backtrack'n and try'na cover it up like he was some sorta 2 drink minimum nite at some downtown stand-up event fer 2nd graders

so hear me out here...about 111,693 Iraqi civilians were unanimously and

ceremoniously murdered along with roughly 4,370 soldiers which in the end (i’ve done the math so you don’t have to burn any brain cells kitten) brings that total to a whoop'n 11,6063 new casper's roam'n about the planet fer no reason accept to avenge his father fer bein' bullied by that middle eastern floor mop and make bank which ALL HAPPENED durin' his dipshit reign (though yes you trigger happy finger point'n brain dead jell-o molds...i'm WELL AWARE it still continued fer another 2 more years)

5 foot 6 clorox huff'n helter skelter'd schizophrenic jitter bugg'n champion 

Charles Manson had N-E-V-E-R once pulled a trigger nor did he slash a throat though luckily he was convicted to life in prison fer 4 decades until he turned into a casper himself fer just order'n the killin' of 7 people by 5 of his chemically deranged ritual bath'n groupies

so tell me then...how is it that this smug satanic humpty dumpty is still 

give'n a podium after scarf'n down a plate of bacon wrapped pork tenderloin...julienne fries and a candied walnut raspberry vinaigrette side salad wash’s it down with a chilled sippy cup of Schlitz even though he never fired a shot?

just ask'n fer a friend!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

A FUZZY LIL DREAM

i can remember the very first time that a co-worker had asked me to quit

throw'n money down the drain on rent and convinced me to pool our resources together fer a humble lil shit box to call our very own though i was no fool...he had shitty credit and needed me to sign on the dotted line however after 5 years we'd just sell and split the profits which sounded gravy at the time since i was now in my late early 30's nonetheless after 6 months of house hunt'n together only to get berated one nite by some carpet clean'n home depot card carry'n lickolotapus growl'n at me to sign on the dotted line even though i had never even stepped foot on the premises that my co-worker wanted just so she could fly off to the bahamas with her bonus coins i had had enough and would put my EDIE BOUVIER BEALE dreams on the back burner

almost 20 years later i've finally decided it's time to buckle down and be a 

bit more grown up since i've been grow'n old of my current quarters cuz there hasn't been much of an update to my humble lil shitbox i've called home fer the past 12 years regardless of the basic essentials one needs to survive on the daily

unfortunately i hadda let Rosario go due to her new zika diet clogg'n my pipes up 7 years ago and i've fall'n a bit behind on my clean'n duties

so i was dressed in my best pressed pale blue poly blended muu muu 

on some lazy saturday afternoon rearrange'n my personalities to go with my sunday knickers sipp'n on my dreams gone by 

soak'n up some inspirational sonnets from one Crissy Snow as i marinated in my 3rd metamucil martini turn'n myself into a pickled prune in my neighbors puppy pool that i never met as the cool MN spring breeze kicked in my narcolepsy

dream'n of my future inspirational bedroom in a double wide far away from the city life i had grown accustomed to

to calm my uncontrollable urge to make another utterly and totally tastless

science project i mistakenly swallowed the nite before since i'm pretty sure orange juice should actually be the color of orange...i decided to grab my ice pick...throw on my parka and go on an expedition into the freezer to see if there was anything that i could rescue and too my surprise i found buried under a foot of freezer burn a 1/5th bottle of pomegranate Smirnoff left behind when i had a camp out in my live'n room last summer

so i made myself a shitty pomegranate and stale unfizzy seltzer water cocktail...poured in some MN misery...a splash of resentfulness that i didn't win the POWERBALL...a pinch of the terribly intolerable 2's and Dr. Kevorkian's number and i had made the perfect pick-me-up to go along with my shitty outlook on the day

after i choked down my swill...i decided to make a couple of calls...

however…the suicide hotline decided to put me on hold!

once i reached my destination...everything in the past 4 hours that felt like heavy chains on my chest...were now no longer aggravate'n me as i stripped off my layers of regret and threw away my bitch blouse to feel comfortable...that is until i was hunted down by some store greeter...

"SIR...i need to see yer I.D!"

s-e-r-i-o-u-s-l-y...after what i just gone thru to get here...i...as thee only

unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...is bein' asked fer I.D. to shop fer some groceries? na-uuh...she DID NOT just say that to ME!

and once again i hear her say... "SIR...i need to see yer I.D!"

ummm...no...i think what you need Bessie is a good dietitian and that trough yer use'n as a kitchen table removed away immediately (hey that's no cut on her appearance just concern about her clogged arteries...i have plenty of pleasant plumpers i consider to be my closest friends) nonetheless i didn't wanna argue with her so i handed over my I.D. without any back handed comments though i had plenty lined up!

as i walked around fill'n up my cart with anything that would calm...

the restless natives beat'n the hunger drums in the pit of my stomach i wondered...wai'da'minute! why did i give her my I.D.? so i marched up to customer service to speak with the mgr. on duty

out walks this hefty hideaway gal...who wasn't really hide'n anything at all

 so i explained to her why was it i needed to give my I.D. to the bloated stegosaurus with the bad bi-leveled oglivie home perm greet'n people at the front door and she calmly said in her best Bea Arthur voice that she shouldn't have

i'm think'n ok...this deep fried trough tail gator spotted me as thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe and just wanted proof to post on her FB page...i get it! (it's so hard to be me sometimes!)

BUTT all of a sudden

the manager got on the loud speaker and said politely...

"Martha please come to the customer service desk"

yer kidd'n as in Martha Dumptruck? i was think'n of a merried of other 

names however Martha worked fine with me at the moment and of course Mrs. Dumptruck explained in that typical phoney corporate response as to why she demanded i hand over my I.D. to her manager

Bea looked at it once...looked at me...then held the I.D. closer to her face and looked closer at my face...all of a sudden they both started smirk'n til they broke out in complete laughter point'n their claws at me...HUH?

ARE YOU FUCK'N KIDD'N ME WITH THIS?

well i usually hold back my mouth dam but i'll be damned at this point...

i was gonna let em have it with both barrels...grabb'n the loud speaker i politely said "shoppers...today's blue light special is in customer service but they ain't so blue and they most DEFINITELY ain't so light...

though they sure are purdy special so you'll have to read to 'em r-e-a-l slow...

come gaze at these 2 backward barn yard Miss Piggy vaginal flaps however please refrain from gett'n too close to them as they hadn't had their feed'n yet today and you might just become their main course"

i grabbed my I.D. and ran out the door into the freeze'n cold once again...

without any mouth water'n morsels to fill my fuck'n gut even though i wanted to gut anyone that crossed me now cuz my mouth was as dry as the Tatooine desert and my breath was seethe'n like a rage'n bi-polar monkey slut in sunday school...then i woke up!

WTF...this was all just a dream?....eh!...time to make some breakfast...

as i opened the fridge...i noticed nothin' but some strawberries wrapped in last season's faux fur

ummm yea...this shit ain't happen'n today...time to start hunt'n fer my fuzzy lil dream pronto!

now GET OFF MY DRESS!