I have underwear that lasted longer than my 1st marriage. Sometimes I wonder if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
The other day a lovely young H.S. girl (and yes…she was wearing the uniform miniskirt you lecherous bastards) was exiting the subway station and she glanced at me as she passed. Our eyes met for perhaps a heartbeat. I was waiting at the corner for the light to change and so I took that opportunity to enjoy the sight of her long, lean, luscious legs and creamy teenage flesh floating down the street. As I was watching her walk away for some reason she turned her head and looked back directly into my eyes, again. I raised my gaze just in time to meet hers and it quite instantly looked as if someone had jammed a hot needle in her sweet ass. Shock! Horror!
She bolted!
I mean she came out of the gate like she was on fire and the last thing I saw was her heels barely touching the ground, poor Baby.
But you know…..I sort of like having that kind of face.
I’m sure that Hillary is………..a……….fine…………person and I’m absolutely certain that she is intelligent, capable, loyal, dedicated, determined, ambitious and a good Soldier for the Great State of New York.
But being married to The Man for 8 years (although a personal accomplishment you may justifiably take some pride in) does NOT go on your professional resume Senator Clinton, and I am deeply satisfied that Senator Obama finally hit the sirens and hauled her ass to the curb on that one.
What the Fuck (oops…check that…WTF) is with those people who display 8x10 glossies of their wives and children on their cheap desks in their grim little rathole offices so that any unlucky visitor is subjected and then held hostage to the gruesome vision of their fat wife and ugly kids.
Keep that painful shit at home, Holmes!
Yea..yea….yea, I get that it’s some type of sub-moronic carrot-and-stick motivation anchor but if you really need a fucking photograph to remind you that you gotta bring home the bacon just go ahead and hang yourself ‘cuz your life is going in reverse Brother.
And while we’re at it, this goes out with all my love to all those new parents out there-
No, as a matter of fact, I DO NOT want to see the brand new pictures of your spawn.
I mean……
Did I fucking ask you?
FaceBook is like a really long, really boring, really senseless job.
If there is a more hopeful, joyful, anything-is-possible World to live in than Spring Training Camp in Arizona (or any Spring Training really) than I want to check that out.
Can’t we just stay here forever?
Oh yea. I don’t know about anybody else but I’d take steroids, HGH and any other pill, powder or package I could get my paws on if it kept me in the game.
Hope may be a sickness, a virus, a universally genetic disease of the Human Condition.
It may be a trick, a trap, a clever mirage leading us all further into a barren desert.
It may be a sucker game for the short money Losers while the House rakes it in and gets fatter and fatter with the passing of each day as the rest of us slog home, beaten, busted and broke.
But if we ain’t got Hope…what do we got?
Cynicism, bitterness, hostility, distrust, smaller minds, stupid shortsighted decisions and a slightly more hateful World that’s already brimming with that particularly abundant human resource.
But you know what?
Sometimes Buster Douglas knocks Tyson flat on his ass and out!
Sometimes the Red Sox storm back from 3 games down to beat the Yankees in 7!
Sometimes a Chinese kid with nothing in his hands and only the Truth in his heart stands up to a rolling tank and the tank backs down!
Sometimes a levelheaded Judge orders a hysterical school board to drop the bullshit and enlist in the 21st Century.
Sometimes a pretty ragtag collection of outcasts decides they’ve had just about enough from the reigning Empire and comes together to kick those haughty bastards right out of their brand spanking new country.
And we better believe that most of the time Goliath crushes David like a bug, grinds him into the dirt and then laughs all the way to the bank, throne, boardroom, bedroom or White House.
I have no idea what I would do with myself if I didn’t have cynicism, suspicion, disdain and energizing anger as my constant companions but sometimes….
Even I got room in my bag for a little hope.
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