methho in a whitetrashtruck behemoth

what did we do to deserve this?

i don’t get it. everyday i wake up and the news just gets more and more surreal. i mean what idiot put in the phillip k. dick novel as a template for the 21st century? i spend the day wanderin’ around in webland lookin’ at all the gloomdoom dumshit news and it makes me just wanta foment (format?) revolution. luckily my stumblefriends keep me sane and smilin’. coz otherwise i might have to go off on that methmistress in the ohso big white truck drivin’ her half in the middle and havin’ the nerve to shout “hey” at me, like she thought it was some goddamned pixies cover. i mean i was avoidin’ a fuckin’ peasant in the road right, i mean pedestrian. and like she was even at the corner when i cut it to avoid ’em. not to mention my stereo in the bitchin’ chevy luv (aka equinox) was blaring gang of four so damned loud it is amazing she has that kinda lung power. my response. i slow. and yell back as i turn to see her ugly mug starin’ in the sideview mirror…”what?” as in what didja want? what the fuck are you gonna do now? ask your methhead passenger to shamble out and kick my ass? or didja want to chat up the cops in the copshop next door as to what should be done? almost felt a twinge of roadrashedrage, but then the music was loud and i needed to return to the empty library and surf some more. not like i wanted to stop for a confront anydaze. specialways not withsome lame ass whitetrash methwhore…no disrespect to trailerparks nor workinggirls, we all have our place in this fucked up cherryontop world.
work work work. sounds like a song by the godfathers. not like i do much except check out computers and send people in the direction of the bathroom. oh yeah there is this ill (interlibrary loan – for you non-library folk) that should be submitted. some genealogy book that another nit is trying to find her roots with. they are all fucking dead! what about tomorrow? yesterday is history, doomed to be revised, edited, and repackaged for your consumer glee to livejive at your leisure via dvd immersion. wee.
fuck all i just wanna drink some margaritas and smoke a phatty. but then none of the writin’ i need to do will get done. and there is an incomplete or two that need fixin, and one of them just might get me sittin’ behind a conference podium at haaarrrvaaaarrrd next springtide. reading about boston at the moment in stephenson’s zodiac. a motherfuckin’ eco james bond. a delicious little romp through toxicity and boston harbor. anywho. must get something done, besides listing my general discomforts…haven’t even begun sharin’ my dark and disturbin’ view on this really twisted and traumatized day we face with the likes of curious dubya on the job. fuckwit. no, on second thought, he ain’t good enough for that…there really aren’t words for the likes of ’em. leastways not ones he ain’t slaughtered with his dumbshitschtick…fuckin’ kennybunkport maine motherfucker. gives us texans a bad name he does.

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