Call This Civilization Again and I'll Clock You Submission

So hereís to this. Hereís to it all. The Big Boys took more than a little kick in the balls, and George Bush is up so many points youíd think heíd been found out to be having an affair with a good looking intern and figured out a way of supplying free pot and alcohol to this entire good Christian nation of ours. If I were to begin to be sick on my floor here and now, I wouldnít stop until Halloween. ďWhy isnít anyone sticking around for long enough to say Ďtrick or treat?íĒ Iíd wonder. He rigged the fucking election. Heís had some of the most unconvincing vengeful words written for him since I wrote a song in fifth grade called, ďThat Girl Samantha is Gonna Be Sorry She Didnít Go Out With Me When Iím a Rock Star,Ē and he even squeezed out a couple of tears. I hear. Or thatís what I heard I mean. Think I saw his father for a flash or so while I was checking to see if maybe The Simponís was starting on the fifteen minute mark, and I am really trying not to think the things Iím about to write for you, in the ways that Iíve been thinking and will write them but you know, itíll all bring me down, what Iím thinking, one way or another so I might as well cough it up in the form of printed bile.

No I hadn't. But I will. I donít even have it in me to finish Ashleyís wonderful little phrase, ďCall This --Ē see how it is. See how itís done me.

I never like to take recent deaths lightly. I figure itís like, bad karma, you know. Tweaking the nose of terror to me was the number of times I took every risk that my friend a drug dealer was taking, while accepting no profit for my troubles. Thatís just fool hardy. But joking around about recent deaths is just not in my character without some kind of nasty feeling catching up with me eventually, just as it isnít my thing to mention at a time like this that maybe a year and a half ago there was a Monsoon somewhere east, like India for example which had a roaming million or so, desperate, approaching cars of folks to beg for help because they would certainly starve to death without it. Thatís a lot of people. I donít know the figures from New York and whatnot, because I donít watch these things on TV at times like these because itís just so pop, you know, but I saw that news item when I was in Tailand briefly, some Asian news show on TV in English, and no-one I asked in the United States had heard a thing about it. Now no-one that we know of can cause a Monsoon, himself, and so itís unlikely that this was a spiteful, or shall we say, aggravated Monsoon, but still, that struck me odd that I never heard a follow up story back in the States, because there wasnít a story in the first place. It wasn Ďt a story. I guess that most of those homeless families and folks, so desperate they hardly looked human, probably died, though, figure?

Youíre all sheltered. And I canít get away with jokes about becoming an antichrist, oops I mean anarchist at least until Halloween and maybe not at all anymore in this country. (Jokes like: Groucho Marx glasses, fake cigar, ďWhich woyd do you think is closer to Democracy, Anarchy or Republic? Thatís the woyst question I ever hoyd!Ē) So things are tough all over.

I mourn only the death, not the destruction. Someone had to get started clearing this shit out we call civilization. I mean thanks.