My gf and I took a trip to the San Diego Wild Animal park in January. She and I, along with a dozen or so innocent children nearby were gravely poisoned by this horrific display of a sleeping lion. Since I do not like to suffer alone, I will now force you to look at the balls and anus of the king of the jungle, or in this case, the king of the Land Rover. The queen of the Land Rover was nearby sleeping under a log, occasionally opening her eyes to express disdain that her slacker king was not resisting the temptation of shiftlessness.
That’s some balls and anus, eh?
As a matter of public interest, if you search Google for “Lion Balls and Anus” (in quotations) this blog post is the ONLY result in the entire universe as of Feb 24 2009. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time…
They don’t tell me that I’m insane, but they all think that I’m insane.
I’m not insane.
I’m completely fucking normal.
I am NOT normal.
I’m not insane though.
Am I insane?
How do I know?
How do YOU know?
Are you insane?
You’re not normal. What’s so normal about you?
You have an apartment? You have a job? You have a car payment?
You’re insane. You’re insane to the max!
YOU promised to pay the bank each month for the next five years. YOU legally obligated yourself to fire a regular monthly bullet in the head just so that ya can own a car. What’s the big pay-off for buying your car? Freedom?
Exactly what is your freedom, Toyota-Man? Where do you drive? Where are you going to go? What’s the big payoff?
Work?
You get to drive to work?
Every day? Really? You get to sit in traffic on the 405 and haul your self-indulgent ass to work every morning. Earlier and earlier so that you can beat the traffic. And where do you work? What do you do? Is it fun? Is it important? Could the entire world do without you? Maybe, but you’ve got a car, so when they come to burn down your cubicle, don’t sweat, you just hop in your car and split! Zero-to-sixty in twelve seconds.
And when you’re just about finished paying for the car, you’re almost out of the woods but then you –
Wanna trade up! Trade up! Trade up!
“I wanna trade up! I wanna new car! An Audi!!!! I want an Audi! People like me drive Audis. People like writers, people like producers, people like other assholes who are just like writers and producers!
I identify with Audis!
I identify with Audis because Audis are just like me and my personality! Some people’s personalities are VWs and cow-print upholstery. My personality is Audi. My personality is silver! And black leather interior and red dashboard lights!
That’s my personality! My personality is metal and leather and lights!
My personality is red lights!
Not green lights. Green lights is, “Do!” Red lights is, “Don’t!” And that’s my personality. I’m don’t! I’m not do. Do is boring. Do is grandpa. You’re do. I’m don’t.
Can I get an Audi? Can I trade in my Corolla? How much will you give me? Can I get the A4? How much is it per month?”
