small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>I eat danger like a bowl of soup</strong>

Tuesday, November 23

I eat danger like a bowl of soup

So once again I’m sitting at the bus stop this morning thinking on weighty issues when the thought hit me.
“I bet there’s some nasty muthafuckers sitting on this same bus stop”
That’s it, just that stray thought going in one side and bouncing out the other. But what food for thought eh? Cause I know that if I entertained the thought of who’s nasty ass sat and drooled all over the bus stop bench or what elderly Mr. Pissy Pants sat stewing in his own juices in the same seat that I’m residing in on the bus I’m riding, I’d never sit down. I mean like goddamn, life is fraught with danger that we deal with on an everyday basis but never give thought too. Take for example my fuckin bike for instance; here I am sitting on this thing with two wheels that has a container full of volatile gas pressing up against my nutsac and an engine between my legs. Would I sit on top of the running engine in my car with a jar of gas in the crotch of my pants? I think fucking not. Or when I tie my boots in the morning I could end up breaking a finger or worse. Damn, if you think of it, just getting ready for work and walking out the door in the mornings is like an Indiana Jones adventure. You women are putting on makeup that’s most likely made in part from the sperm or spunk as we call it in the hood, from whales and cows and shit. Would you have your husband or boyfriend rub one off in your face or hair before you walked out the door? Well some of you might, but that’s not what’s important now. And for those of us that shave, oh my god! You’re scraping your face with an object sharp enough to cause instant death if there’s one slip. And we don’t get proper training in this kind of shit now do we? And don’t even get me started on the fuckin microwave that you warm up your coffee in or that stinkin ass breakfast muffin. There you are half asleep standing in front of something emitting god knows what kind of rays in the general direction of your fucky sucky parts. Where’s my lead lined codpiece? And take my morning ritual of grabbing a hot coffee then crossing Broadway to the bus stop. I should get a daily award for this shit cause I’m carrying in my bare hands a fragile container full of scalding liquid attempting to dodge these giant metal objects weighing thousands of pounds hurtling towards me at breakneck speeds. And because it’s the fuckin Am and shit the lights dim or nonexistent and I’m black for fucks sake, and I make this dangerous trek on a daily basis. Fuck, which is worse, getting crushed by the soccer mom in the bigassed Escalade or the hot as a muthafucker coffee spilling across the front of my shirt? But we survive all that only to get to work and having to ride up multiple floors in the elevator. This small box on ropes that hangs from the top of the building that was installed and built by the lowest bidder. Fuck, might as well stay in bed and be eaten alive by the bed lice that we see on all the soap commercials.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


Blogger satyavati said...

Ummmm.. can you check your home email from work? Just wonderin.

9:56 AM  

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