So I never did take the opportunity of last week to talk about what we are all thankful for. Honestly probably too little or in some cases too much. It seems as though we are in the throws of just another year. Were 22 and kicking and really that’s all that matters, so here is my belated toast to love, life, family, friends, the struggle and the party. The only things that mean a god damn on this spiraling fuck-ball of pollution.
FIVE THINGS I LEARNED THIS WEEK
1. Getting locked out of your house will make you, for the amount of time until you get back in, homeless.
2. Getting down to brass tacks is like getting to it or shagging ass, as Royal Tennenbaum would say.
3. Getting drunk before a flight is absolutely no fun until you land hung over on the other end.
4. Getting to know your younger siblings now that they are older is like meeting someone cool who you feel you should be friends with.
5. Getting away with all the things you do doesn’t prove that you are suave or sneaky or cool but that you are as you always thought, an asshole.
1. The definition of "effluvium."
2. Fried boners is neither a real food or an appropriate Thanksgiving dinner
topic, even if it is an intriguing idea.
3. There's no place like home to feel baffled about your life.
4. Kisses that taste like cigarettes are a beautiful and allergenic symptom
of the times.
5. Our children are going to think we're dumbies when they realize we could
have aborted them all and spent the money we did to raise them on on some
great generational year-long vacation to a savage and misty island, where
love and freedom are as plentiful as batteries and grape soda are here,
where making love is as thoughtless as breathing, and infinitely greater
because it will have no foundation in our diseased consciousness, but
instead levitate somewhere between the sunshine and the clouds, there are no
children and there are no old people and no niggers and no chinks and no
kikes because the old man is also the boy and the kike is also the nigger
just as the wind is both my feeble breath and a cyclone capable of taking
thousands, and all of us will stand on the mountain, not even knowing who's
dream it is or what strange collage of reality and brainwaves could have
given birth to it, and scream to the world the name of our island.