small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: sweatin the small stuff

Friday, July 15

sweatin the small stuff


From the “future Darwin Award winner” department………..

Comes a tale of somebody’s really stupid children. It’s the forth of July and the apartment complex is ripe with the laughter of children and the sound of exploding fireworks. Squatting in the dirt in front of their building we find thirteen year old Jimmy holding court surrounded by half a dozen smaller children waiting for him to fire off another bottle rocket. But wait, what’s this, as Jimmy calls over one of the smaller kids.
“Hey Mickey, put this bottle rocket in your mouth and let me light it”
Little three-year-old Mickey agrees and Jimmy sticks the end of the bottle rocket in little Mickey’s mouth and fires it up. My many inside sources tell me that what happened next was some of the most fucked up shit they’d ever seen. It’s bad enough that little Mickey’s holding the bottle rocket in his mouth, but it’s in his mouth tip first, so that when Jimmy lights the muthafucker it goes down Mickey’s throat and explodes.

After doing his impromptu impersonation of the Human Torch, little Mickey’s rushed to the hospital where he spent a couple of days undergoing treatment. He suffered burns to the inside of his throat and it’s not yet known if Mickey will any suffer long-term effects from his ordeal. (we already know he’s stupid) And of course the cops are all over everybody wondering why there weren’t any adults around keeping an eye on shit. I’m thinking at least he didn’t blow a finger off.




And now from the “look, no more cameltoe” department…….

Hails a tale of a young lady from Burma who between selling chickens in the market always dreamt of being a man. And in a true testament of what the fuck ever, her dreams have come true, but hey, lets hear it in her own words.
"On the morning of the full moon day of June 21, I noticed my thingie was not the same as before and my breasts disappeared. So I called out and showed it all to my mom and dad. It was very strange."
Yes, according to her, her parents, and the thousands of stunned villagers who’ve thronged to view her junk first hand, she has somehow grown a cock? My many inside sources who got tired of waiting in line, tell me that after being examined by experts, test results are forthcoming.




And from the “I killed a man just to watch him die” department comes……..

A question I saw on one of the forums I frequent. “Where has the tortured soul gone, what happened to the Johnny Cash's and the Cobain's of the world”? Good question huh, and one that I think I have an answer too. Let’s start by understanding what a tortured soul is. To me a tortured soul is a person who’s writing or singing sends the listener to places they might not want to go, bringing up painful or sad memories or even making the person listening think.

To be considered a tortured soul means that at sometime in your life you have either hit absolute bottom or done things so bad that no matter how much you try, you still think of yourself as a piece of shit. You’ve done and seen things that the average muthafucker would run away from. You’ve embraced the fucked up and ejaculated on the face of god. (wow, where in the fuck did that come from? “ejaculate on the face of god”) You know what it’s like to kill a man just to see the “why” in his eyes.
You’ve crawled out of bed in towns whose names you can’t remember and cracked off the needle. And you’ve done things with your body just to buy a meal that you’re still ashamed of.

A lot of today’s artist might consider themselves “tortured souls” but I’d be the first to call bullshit. Tortured soul to them is maybe back in the day being unable to borrow their mom’s car to go to the mall, or losing the fuckin remote to the cable box. Sorry Cochise, singing about the back porch swing or homemade ice cream ain’t tortured. And speaking of back in the day, I think that if you’re under twenty-five you shouldn’t be allowed to use that phrase. What, your fuckin back in the day was high school? Anyway, I don’t think I answered the question, but you get my drift.

"and the monkey flipped the switch"

6 Comments:

Blogger satyavati said...

I haven't killed anybody but I've done enough of the stuff on your list to qualify for "tortured soul", and by rights I think I can answer where we've all gone.
To therapy, to NA, to AA, to the psych ward, to detox, to jail, and to someplace out in the country so we can forget all that horrible shit we did and get on with life. I don't want to sing about it, write novels about it, paint pictures of it or compose improvisational poetry about it. I want to forget it.
That answer the question? And being over 25, let me say that back in the day, it just didn't seem to be as bad as it does now.
There you go... I can go to work satisfied now.

12:19 PM  
Blogger satyavati said...

Lemme correct myself. I haven't killed anybody just to watch them die.

There. Have a good day.

12:20 PM  
Blogger Berry said...

Geeze...where do you find this stuff. LOL!

2:47 PM  
Anonymous RD said...

Which is exactly why small brush shouldn’t fuck with big timber.

6:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OOpps!
Now how was I to know that was going to happen?

Billy Smith expert tree climber

4:35 PM  
Blogger Matty said...

I believe I can get away with leaving the rest of this space blank. It's enough for me to know you care.

1:05 AM  

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