The Popsicle and Frozen Treat Lobby killed my boy.
This has nothing to do with industrial freezers…
A great cleansing tidal wave of Fruity Pebbles is what this place needs. I can see it there on the horizon. No skim milk bullshit, either. 2% all the way. Solid.
There's nothing better than our current definition of “Freedom,” the essence of which is allowing all the freedom to starve to death while shooting off entire arsenals of Class C fireworks.
It's very funny to carry an umbrella. To use and hold an umbrella is very odd. It is to make oneself exceptional from the weather. Which is a polite way of saying, “God's Judgement.”
God is not happy with this new leg wear. Hence this fog. God wishes there to be fewer mimes near that hospital: Lightning storm.
The umbrella can only be taken seriously as a cousin to more formal dinner utensils. An ersatz gravy boat, perhaps. Or gravy trough. But as a portable, public spotlight, the umbrella remains taped between swimming goggles and those awful little rubber thumb gloves secretaries wear.
It's still fairly quiet out on the Lake. Many boaters remain curled in crawl spaces and hidden in fruit cellars. So the view is limitless water and sky, going on forever, it seems, if you pretend Canada doesn't exist. The calming infinite is only interrupted, in fact, by one lone, broken sail boat. It never comes home. Sits out there all winter, drifting to and fro, never getting too close to shore nor far off into the freighter channels. The sails have all worn away and there is no crew. But the rich people and the coast guard agree: no one's going near it. For the better part of 17 years now, that ship as been the sole providence of thousands of the town's bad luck cats. Police hire a local high school quarterback each year to throw feral and unloved kitties aboard it...
Not too long ago, fantastically rich people used tax payer money designated to bail out their glorified gambling house businesses to give themselves bonus payments. Now these same rich people are cutting the bare bones social security and Medicare monies that millions of working and poor people depend on for basic survival. Most of these poor people, though, still revere and worship this economic/political system to the point of proudly offering up their lives and the lives of their children to defend it. My response, the only sane response, remains: purchase a new American flag each week, cut it into strips and mix it in with my meals in the hopes that eventually I'll die of chemical poisoning from the colored dyes and plastic compounds used in its construction. OK One more time...