The Butterfly

I’m at a loss for words this morning; I had this big assed spiel about the MSN butterfly I was gonna put together, but after thinking it over I wasn’t sure it would make any sense to anyone but me. You know what I’m talking about don’t you? With the commercials featuring the people in the giant insect suits that dote over their human master’s. What the fuck is that? If that isn’t some futuristic form of indentured servitude or “slavery”, then I don’t know what the fuck is, cause you know they have no personal rights or freedoms. Oh, you see the one sitting at the kitchen table having coffee whilst relaying to his “master” the morning’s mail. But did you see the fear in his eyes when his master told him to knock it off with the spam? I bet the second the cameras were off he beat the wings off that poor muthafucker for stepping out of line. And remember the poor sap who had the cat lady as his owner? Sitting on the couch clearly in the throes of an advanced form of Alzheimer’s while her stupid cat clawed the life out her poor butterfly slave as he begged her to please buy the four fingered bastard a simple scratching post. Oh, and I saved the worst injustice for last. When the master’s are sitting around the ole computer in their underwear searching the net for porn, what do you think they’re doing with their “slave” butterflies then? Uh huh, you know what time it is. Cause a muthafucker knows the first thing a cat does when he gets his butterfly is ask where the peehole is. I’m just sayin.