7-11
Current mood: awake

Coffee Break

            It is a well known fact that 7-11 got its start in 24 hour world of business from two things:  late night child prostitution and 24 hours of coffee.  Here is a brief synopsis of the various blends 7-11 has to offer.  Of course the blends being referred to here are coffee based.  (What ever kind of children a person wants at 3am is their own business and I refuse to write about it).

            7-11's Regular Blend of coffee carries a recipe that is so secret; no less than 1200 well regarded adventurers have perished attempting to unlock its mysteries.  All that is known is the unique way the beans are harvested.  Unpaid immigrants imprisoned in super-plantations must carry up to 10 lbs. of beans in their assholes throughout an entire day of forced labor.  Due to the brutal conditions endured by these brave indentured farmers, the beans age far more fully in the colon than they would in any other form of storage.  Upon collection of the beans, the workers are eliminated.  They are than imported through traditional means.

            The delightfully robust blend known as French Roast is grown on traditional family owned plantations 60 miles south of gay Paris.  The aristocratic barons of these lands only feel contempt that their lovingly raised beans are being exported to a nation of uncultured boors.  Hence the urine-like aroma one encounters during the first few seconds of brewing a rich pot of 7-11 French Roast Brand Coffee.

            100% Columbian Coffee is an exotic bean imported from South America to the Florida panhandle via Soviet-era nuclear submarines.  It is than brought up I-75 in the spare tire of a 1978 Chevy Malibu.  Uncut with impurities, 7-11's Columbian Coffee stimulates without the sniffles.  In more upscale neighborhoods, such as Warren, MI, it has been happily nicknamed "meth for your mouth".  Harvesting of the beans occurs in a mobile home community outside of Bogotá, Columbia.

            Grown in darkest Africa, Kenya Blend is the ceremonial ale of the Mobouti tribesman.  To celebrate the slaughter of various missionaries and human aide workers, Kenya Blend is mixed with the blood of said victims and imbibed from their shallow skulls.  This daily festivity is said to be thousands of years old.  The recipe we receive in America today first came stateside when a high-ranking 7-11 executive was performing community service throughout the third world for his crimes against humanity (i.e. Taquitos).  While in darkest Africa, he had the misfortune of joining a group of aide workers destined for slaughter.  Sensing trouble, he quickly removed just enough of his own brain in order to hide its sweet "thinking meat" from the savages and still have enough sense left to get through customs, should he escape.  He promptly hid the head goo up his rectum.  Word has it that it's been there to this very day, where he now resides as C.E.O. of the Southland Corporation.

            Some people want a little fruity flavor to there cup of joe.  The various flavored coffees 7-11 carries are stored in a silo outside of Newark, NJ where they are drenched with semen and animal feces before the carcinogenic flavors are added.  Extended use has been known to lead to blindness and narcolepsy.  These particular blends from Blueberry Muffin to fucking Mango Crème let the drinker inform the world without saying a word,

            "I haven't finished a thought since childhood and I am utterly tasteless."

            7-11 Decaffeinated Coffee is for pussies, diabetics, and ferociously elderly.  It is to be brewed once every 48 hours.  The floating insects are its only known source of flavor.

            Finally we come to the author's personal favorite.  Known as the WD-40 of the coffee world for its similar taste and oily properties, Dark Mountain Blend has been the drink of drunk 'til dawn men for decades.  Due to the fact that it has been known to knock decades off of a man's life expectancy, the general public has only recently been made aware of its acidic brilliance.  Dark Mountain Blend will put hair on ones chest, balls, back, and ears.  Furthermore, it has been scientifically proven to make its male users 100% more likely to physically attack innocent women.  All information regarding its creation has been a closely guarded Masonic secret and will remain so until the end of time itself.

            So when you get your next cup of black liquid morning salvation, remember what goes into adding a little bit of convenience to your day.  The good farmers responsible will certainly never forget about you after receiving their well earned nickel for a 12 hour day of work.  Nor will their abandoned families.

Currently listening : Golden Throats: The Great Celebrity Sing Off By Various Artists Release date: 01 May, 1992

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new spin on an old hag... (thanx sheri)
Current mood: melancholy
Category: boozy? News and Politics

Fuck Your War

And when this war goes on for so long that no one knows what it's even called – or why it's being fought – or what it really costs... 

Millions of lives that won't ever have a chance – were in on no plans on the Jihad's demands...

Just another day on the farm - on the job – working for their babies...

Selling anything to anyone that's paying.

            Does that sound fucking familiar? 

What do you do everyday? 

Provide for a family? 

Procrastinate eternally? 

Or just never do anything? 

Where are you going to hide when the American made oil orphans are old enough for suicide bombings? 

Did you really think we could kill that many babies for our own automotive conveniences...?  

... And not face the vengeance of an entire fucking people?? 

            Or maybe you're packing heat in the home for self-defense just like an Iraqi insurgent?  You're prepared for gangsters, militias, terrorists, even your own government.

But you can't see that we've already given up and lost to the fucking zombies? 

Our hearts and minds have been taken in by attention deficit disordered marketing.  Signed over, sealed and delivered.

Our way of life is to "succeed at any cost" – collateral damage will be written off on your year end refunds. 

            When the dead walk the earth, the end will be nigh...

                        ...And your lifestyle's demise will be f'n biblical.

Any dessert when bombed enough can become a majestic sea of broken glass...

...I bet it'll be a nice place to visit when so many Arabs are dead, it feels like they never existed.

Currently listening : Nothing’s Shocking By Jane’s Addiction Release date: 25 October, 1990

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7-11
Current mood: satisfied
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

The End

            If I learned one thing working for 7-11 it's that working for 7-11 fucking blows.  A normal person can't do that kind of retail without truly believing that their life has no point.  There is no reward in getting someone to buy something they are already addicted to.  I've never talked up the selling points for a 12 pack of Natural Ice at seven in the morning.  Never have I needed to encourage a morbidly obese woman to get that sixth candy bar in order to 38 cents.  My job took all the skill of being a human vending machine.  Seven and a half years of turning my brain off for forty hours a week has made me realize and all I have to show for it is utter contempt for all the assholes that walked through those doors and were too rushed to say "Hello".  Granted I had quite a stretch at work during which I had little time for pleasantries.  I've judged a man by his style of shoes.  Essentially, if your shoes are worth more than my weekly paycheck, you're an asshole.  I have nothing but pity for every battered housewife/girlfriend too afraid to leave the shit bag that clearly feels so weak about himself that he has to ruin the life of a perfectly innocent woman in order to find some comfort with his shattered life.  To this day every time I see a frazzled parent lash out at their rowdy children in public that I can only assume that said child will be soundly beaten at a later, more private time.  Maybe the faith in humanity that I never had in the first place has somehow become a negative entity because I just feel nothing for the average man unless they have been ravaged by existence like all my other regular custos'.

            I wasn't a people person until I became an alcoholic.  Now that I know full well nothing really makes me any better than the rest of the flock, feigning interest in the crippling life trauma being laid out to me by a peer is as easy as swearing in front of Grandma.  One has to just stop giving a fuck.  Now I think I want a challenge, though not the kind that involves nights without booze and early mornings.  Once upon a time I had dreams of living through my creativity.  However, once I donned that corporately ordered smock, rather than quit that job the moment a uniform became mandatory, all those creative hopes and dreams vanished like one's animal magnetism while sporting a bight red Slurpee stained grocer's smock.

            When I finally gave my two weeks notice at the 7-11 on 10 Mile and Jefferson in the safety of St. Clair Shores, it was so I could move out of state and work at a different 7-11.  Thankfully most of the 7-11s in Las Vegas were already employing enough Mexicans that even if they did recognize my phenomenal clerk pedigree, I'd still have to learn Spanish just to get my foot in the door.

            Even after giving up on Vegas and coming back to Michigan, my best option for employment was still 7-11.  My place under your shoe is still safe until I get up enough nerve to go out there and hustle like the rest of you dogs.  I found work at a real shit hole of a store in Warren-tucky on the corner of 10 Mile and Hayes.  It was badly run, dirty, and a regular stopping point for all armed robbers in the area.  The boss was a pimp that treated his employees like five dollar whores and my coworkers were either students (can't fault them for trying) or fools like me that actually thought that they might be able to earn a living wage at a corner grocery store.  Times have changed now and the only way to live comfortably is to sacrifice your personality in favor of the company mission statement.  I can live like a king on $400 a week.  The last 7-11 gave me about $280.  This one gave me half that.  Half a king is a torso (or an ass with legs if you're a pessimist).

            I actually got fired from the store on 10 Mile and Hayes for working too hard.  I quickly realized that the white trash neighborhood I was in had no appreciation for my keen wit and sarcasm, so it was decided that I would become a good worker.  I ran the cooler, cleaned up everything, and was overtly polite to the clientele.  I felt I was worth $10 and hour.  My pimp felt I was worthless and fired me the second I felt over worked and under paid.  He'll fill my spot in a matter of minutes but he'll never fill my shoes.

            It's a sorry state of affairs when almost every corner store is run by immigrants with no grasp on the English language or dim-witted Americans with no grasp on the English language.  I remember the going to a convenience store as a kid that knew my family.  They knew my buying habits.  Today if "Johnny (or Abdul) Cash Register" knows what you smoke, consider yourself fortunate.  You are worthless slut to us clerks.  You just buy shit at one place that you can buy anywhere else.  You don't care about me as a clerk and I don't even think you exist half the time.  Too much weed does that.  This game won't change anytime soon either.  In fact I imagine stores like 7-11 will be completely automated by the time I'm dead.  It's a prospect that sickens me.  Now that I'm free from work I have enough time to stop and ask the clerk I'm buying smokes from about his life.  I'd love it if I could get my news from a guy that runs a news stand rather than a soul less face on CNN.  I like to buy my whiskey from someone that knows how good my week was based on whether I'm buying Jameson's or Jim Beam.  One day I may go back to the life of a clerk but it will be on my terms.  Hope to see you shopping at "Big D's Cum & Go" soon.

            The best thing about being free from 7-11 (aside from unemployment benefits) is the fact that I will never have to talk with the dim bulbs on the Christmas tree of life ever again until I become one myself.  Because honestly, if a down trodden, used up clerk like me can find a grain of hope on this cursed earth, what's your fucking problem?

Currently listening : Live at the Village Vanguard Again! By John Coltrane Release date: 18 December, 2006

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Light Show Bob Rockfest '07
Current mood: chipper
Category: Music

 To those of you who missed God Hastes Ugly last night at Rockfest, consider yourself fortunate (and a bit of an asshole, seriously, y'all need to come out see the fucking band.  Do you honestly think we'd keep his shit going if we sucked?).
First off, I got pulled over for driving while white in the ghetto.  The poor guy doing the video portion of the show got pulled over on his way to Radio Shack and just happened to be driving a car whose plates did not match the car.  The guy that was meant to bring the sound system backed out and we were left with a p.a. that may have been appropriate  for my living room (the Radio Shack mics were a good touch).  The 9 member girl band from Europe got pissed and left due to the sound system fiasco and the fact that the stage could barely hold 5 people, much less 9 that plan on doing theatrics.  Their exit took over half the audience with them, mind you all they brought was themselves.  When we all finally hit the stage, there was a bigger crowd in the bar doing karaoke than what we had in the field with live bands.  3 bonafide psychos were floating about drunk out their minds and they truly made me fear for my safety.
In the end, I just can't wait for next year's Bobfest.  Maybe we can double the crowd play for 20 people.  Let's hear it for good promoting!

Currently listening : So Far, So Good...So What! By Megadeth Release date: 27 July, 2004

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7-11
Current mood: drunk
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Mother's Day

            It ain't all white trash and poor business management at the 10 & Hayes 7-11.  Of course half of the clientele is washed up in some way or another, be it drunk, broke, pregnant by puberty, or all of the above.  The men all seem to be broken down by intense women, worthless children and thankless jobs.  Most of their joy comes from an occasional fresh cup of coffee. They are so broken that they think a fresh cup is a luxury, rather than a right granted by the thankless fucks in charge of any shit hole that serves coffee.

            "Dude," I'll say, "that coffee is ten cents a pot.  If you're willing to sit here and talk with me about the different mullets you've had over the years and the fact that your job might as well involve drinking goat semen straight from the cock, you might as well have me make you a fresh pot of coffee."

            But alas they don't want to trouble me; that is going to be their woman's job.  Their woman is going to be the one that blows shit up in the industrial strength microwave.  They're the ones that spend all the time at the lotto machine.  They are the one's that are dumb enough to take a slurpee out of a child's hand so I can verify it's size.  And it doesn't matter how dumb or neglectful they are.  They squeezed the football from the vag' and they now officially run shit.

            The big difference between the rich and the poor customers at two different 7-11s is that a woman that births a baby into a life of security will only be a bitch about "worthy" subjects such as education and infidelity.  The same woman bringing a baby into a world moderate to piss-poor income will fly off the handle over the freshness of our Jalapeno and Cream Cheese Taquitoes (be sure to pronounce the "J" as American as possible without sounding like you have Down Syndrome... the same goes for the "qu" in Taquito) to a child wanting candy.  They will than buy said candy for the child, only to return later with the child's father (or current 'stunt dick') complaining about how much money they're spending on the kids while purchasing 40's and cigarettes for full price, rather than rear their children properly and buy them sweets from the fucking supermarket at an affordable price.  Teach the kids some restraint!  Our sweets are for your teenagers, spending money stolen from your purse while they're high on homemade painkillers.  Bravo empty gel caps.

            But I'll take all that strife I see from these families everyday for just one of those "under 40 grandmothers" to give me her tale of passion and hard living during those years when Foghat and Seger ruled the airwaves with an iron riff and an S.T.D. was just something for Penicillin to battle.  These ladies take their 16 year old daughters and their newborn grand babies out for Slurpees and Newports every nice day of the year and some people still think it takes a good school district and a strong community to properly raise a child.  I'll be sure to keep y'all posted on theat story, but how the hell do you ask somebody about the day their youth should have died yet they found a way to keep that irresponsibility alive for another couple decades?

            Let me tell you something.  Half the kids I see at that store look like something out of a Troma film, but by God, they love their fucking $3 shite toy gun that they spent fifteen minutes screaming bloody murder for, as much as they love their hand-me-down X-Box.  I mean what the fuck, their dad's just upgraded to the 360, the least they can do is pass the spare piece down to their spawn.

            By the way, here's a fun side bar.  Recently an overweight woman told me to stop calling her "lady" when she made her purchases.  That's my little greeting to females: "Oh hey lady...".  Nevertheless, she offered to give me some of the children in her car because they were driving her up the wall.  Mainly it was her brother's children that she wanted to be rid of because they have fetal alcohol syndrome.  I don't even know this bitch's name but I know her brother is a lowlife that fucks an alcoholic and she has no tact whatsoever.

Currently listening : Three Ragas By Ravi Shankar Release date: 18 July, 2000

1:10 - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

7-11
Current mood: awake
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Entitlement

            The new job is fucked.  My extensive training has directed me to running my new boss' cooler.  I put away beer orders and organize the soda and energy drinks.  We sell a case of Mountain Dew every day.  We sell 20 different beverages with Guarana, and/or Ginseng which are all purchased by A.D.D. addled youngsters.  We sell all the highest quality ghetto-ass fortys for at least $ .50 higher than our even more ghetto-ass competitors down the street.  I am the employee of the month as fuck.  But this isn't about sales or job performance; this is about the clientele.

            I've seen the physically deformed (would've puked if I flat out stared at the bitch for more than 20 seconds), the mentally retarded (a totally normal looking 14 year old girl that equates money with magic beans), a guy with a trach-bib sporting a baseball hat that reads "I'm Terrific".  9 out of 10 customers wear t-shirts with messages.  For example, big fat sluts with huge fat titties rocking the old "I Don't Think So..." shirt, which I believe is supposed to be directed at me when I attempt to kick game on her drunken ass in a last ditch effort to catch an S.T.D. on a night out at Wild Woody's.  An older bartender with a decent rack wearing a shirt that reads "With Girls Like These, Who Needs Friends?".  Or how about a classic teenage slut coming in for a pack of Newports that was so pregnant I feared her water would break any minute, representing her heritage with a homemade airbrushed shirt that read, "Everyone Loves A Puerto Rican Girl".  I didn't even know Puerto Ricans made it to Michigan, much less stereotypical ones.  And of course all the dudes with t-shirts that pretty much all read "I Hate You And I'm Going To Kick Your Faggot Ass For Not Being Tough Like ME".  They all drive trucks, btw.

            Wrestlemania was just held in Detroit.  The Detroit News was holding a contest for free tickets to said event.  They gave us a huge poster advertising said contest.  The poster said to "inquire within" about the contest.  Guess how many people thought we were selling tickets for the Wrestlemania?

            We got robbed last week by a guy that knew way too much about the inner workings of the store.  He made the midnight clerk print out six $500 money orders.  That alone took ten minutes, not too mention the time it took the clerk to give him every scratch-off ticket we had on hand.  Two days after the robbery, the thugged out midnight clerk that worked that night up and quit.  During my first week of employment, a woman's car was stolen out front because she left it running.  It was broad daylight and she was in the store for less than five minutes.  She was most pissed about the three pizzas she had in the car at the time.  Every girl I work with has at least one kid except for the mildly attractive one, but I think she may be slightly retarded (dyslexic if anything).

            I'd like to write about how weird everything is and give all of my freak shows clever nicknames, but I am in a state of shock.  I'm tempted to work in an even more trashy neighborhood (like Ohio) just to see how much more numb my sense self worth can get.  Because one day I may get as low as my customers.  The beauty of my customers is the fact that they might know how shitty life is, yet they just don't give a fuck.

Currently listening : Join the Army By Suicidal Tendencies Release date: 25 October, 1990

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Smooth Jazz
Current mood: drunk

    What the fuck is wrong with the musicians that have the nerve to play the music of the beast.  Seriously.
    I play a few different instruments.  If I recieved money for playing said instruments I would never subject my subjects to the atrocity that is the clarinet looking saxophone that Kenny G plays.  That man needs to die in a horrible accident that involves his testicles being wrapped along a moving train that happens to have spikes for wheels.  I'm watching a film that I should love but the soundtrack is done by a person that thinks music is a weapon.  I'm down with that.  It worked great for Fela Kuti.  However, Fela is dead and his followers now have AIDS.  The babies he sang for are starving and Kenny G is making a sauce made out of his own semen in order to cook their corpses after the spawn from those babies kill themseleves after listening to his shite music.
    My boss is an asshole and he loves Kenny G.  If Hitler was alive he would not only love Kenny G, he would anally rape him daily.  If Jim Henson knew that his first movie to be written by a truly great writer had Kenny G sounding music in it, he would probably get cancer and ignore his symptoms until he died unexpectedly while you were in elementary school, thus ruining your childhood and therefore, your future as an adult. 
    This is about killing Kenny G and anyone else that considers themself a smooth jazz musician.  I am not joking.  I am simply really drunk.

Currently watching : Mirrormask Release date: 14 February, 2006

1:19 - 3 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

New Story
Category: Writing and Poetry

New Faces

            I get to see some random folks while working at a 7-11.  Each neighborhood has its own flavor, yet some things remain constant.  At the old store I had visits from a charming old woman named Lisa "Pills Lady".  She was on a lot of drugs and genuinely entertained all the employees with her doped up antics.  Sometimes I miss her dearly.

At the new store I work at I just got to meet "Courtney Hole".  I gave her this name on account of her strong resemblance to none other than superstar rocker Courtney Love.  This bitch is blonde like Courtney, has an extremely frightened teenager like Courtney, and is out of her fucking mind just like old Courtney Love.  She got the weird shakes from whatever drugs she's on.  It kind of looks like her hair may be coming out.  Not falling out, mind you.  I mean I may be a bastard but female baldness is one thing I would never ridicule.  No I imagine that this bitch sits at home every night and tries prettying herself up with new and daring hairstyles, but always ends up with the old "I lost all my looks when I had to start spending make up money on school lunches for my daughter" look.  Now I've only met her a few times, but a weathered slurpee slinger like me knows when a customer will be an amazing character.  However, there are some cases even I won't try and crack:

            Overweight, black clothing head to toe, short military like hair cut, and eyes that could shake the gumption from Lee Van Cleef himself; a woman enters the 7-11 with an old lady's extravagant walker.  It's the kind with wheels and is wide enough for her to hang a cane from and still shuffle about the building.  She can barely fit through some of our aisles.  Mind you it isn't because she's over weight, I mean she's fat, but it's her ridiculous amount of layers that keep her from moving about freely.  She uses the cane to get to things she cannot reach due to her extravagant walker.  What's intriguing about this bitch is the fact that she looks to be 50 at the oldest... that and her crazy, crazy eyes.  I swear to you reader, I fucking bailed the second I made eye contact with that woman.  She peered at me and the piss in my bladder turned into dust.  I went to stock the walk-in cooler and upon discovering that it did not need to be filled, I intentionally broke a 40 oz. beer just to ensure that I would be busy by the time she was ready to be rung up.

            The new store treats me well enough and all, but sometimes I wonder if I'm going to be stabbed by a psychopath before I get held up by a Juggalo.  Either way I'm sure it will be an amazing story.

Currently listening : Sweetwater By Sweetwater Release date: 04 October, 2005

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Fuck Your War
Current mood: cold

And when this war goes on for so long that no one knows what it's even called – or why it's being fought – or what it really costs...  Millions of lives that won't have another chance – were in on no plans, had no Jihad to attack.  Just another day on the farm - on the job – working for their babies, selling anything to anyone that's paying.

Does that sound fucking familiar?  What do you do everyday?  Provide for a family?  Procrastinate eternally?  Or just never do anything?  Where are you going to hide when the American made oil orphans are old enough for suicide bombings?  Did you really think we could kill that many babies for our own automotive conveniences and not face the vengeance of an entire people?  Or, maybe you're packing heat in the home for self-defense just like an Iraqi insurgent?  You're prepared for gangsters, militias, terrorists, even your own government – but you can't see that we've already given up and lost the zombie revolution!  Our hearts and minds have been taken in by attention deficit disordered marketing.  Signed over, sealed and delivered – our way of life is to "succeed at any cost" – collateral damage will be written off on your tax refund.  When the dead walk the earth, the end will be nigh...

Any dessert when bombed enough can become a beautiful sea of broken glass.  It'll sure be a nice place to visit when the so much of the enemy is dead it's like they never existed.

Currently listening : Harvest for the World By The Isley Brothers Release date: 21 August, 2001

19:41 - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Something you should know already...
Current mood: aggravated

I just got done watching "Eyes On the Prize" the Mongomery, Alabama bus protest edition.  I got too many thoughts on the fucking thing. 

Number one, what did MLK and the other preachers use to get around during the protest?  I wonder about this because when the film makers interviewed the surviving preachers, they were all wearing immaculate suits and being filmed in extravagant homes.  Were they like the preachers that rob from collection plates and the revolutionaries that founded our country...?  Rich mother fuckers that know nothing of what it is like to be truly poor, yet have an over inflated sense of duty to the community... 

America was founded by a bunch of aristocrats that didn't want to pay taxes to the people that funded their grand little experiment.  Were the Montgomery preachers any better?  I truly pray that they were.  Today's African American community has enough trouble without having to question their past heroes.  Even though most of all the white heroes of any revolutionary ideal have since been remembered as slave rapists, liars, and sexual deviants (What the fuck, most of them had the audacity to own slaves!  Look at the goddamn Kennedys; look at any politician... all they know how to do is exploit!).

What I want to know is why the founders of the Mongomery Bus Boycott stopped at non-segregation on the buses?  Why not continue the protests until the black folks had the means to actually own their own cars like their white employers?  Don't get me wrong, without their accomplishments, we may still be in a ridiculously hypocritical state.

I beseech the entire world to listen to Martin Luther King's actual speeches.  When I hear that man speak it makes me want to believe in Jesus.  If there ever was a second coming, he was it.  Fuck the conspiracy shit about infidelity.  Who hasn't strayed from their love or at least thought about it?  People fuck up all the time.  However, when a human has that kind of charisma and eloquence, I'm willing to overlook some bullshit... especially if it's just hearsay.  Everyone knows the freak show that is J. Edgar Hoover had it in for King from day one.  He has a holiday on his posthumous birthday that is only recognized by predominantly black schools and government organizations that have a strong black lobby.  He needs to be aired on "Good Morning America" every day and quoted like the fucking Bible.  And his holiday needs to be revered like fucking Christmas!

We have no reason to be racist these days.  The black race as a whole did not rob you when you lived in Detroit, it was just one total asshole that may have happened to be black.  He couldn't help being born black and the black race as a whole couldn't prevent him from being categorized in their race.  There is no reason to judge your fellow man until they become your personal enemy (i.e. fuck/murder your wife/mother/entire family).  However, for some truly useless skin bags, it is perfectly acceptable to pass judgment on fellow human beings, thereby discounting their worth in the grand scheme of things.  Fuck them on a wooden stake caked in poisonous feces.

DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND LISTEN TO AT LEAST ONE SERMON OF THE GOOD DR. KING.  FUCK THE JESUS STUFF IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT.  IF YOU DO GET DOWN WITH THAT KIND OF THING, THAN PROVE IT AND WORSHIP TO THE GREATEST ORATOR OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY.  WE ARE A BUNCH OF ILLITERATE FUCKING SLOBS THESE DAYS.  THERE IS NO POLITICIAN ALIVE TODAY THAT HAS ANYTHING ON MLK.  I STRUGGLE TO BELIEVE IN A MODERN DAY PREACHER OF ANY KIND OR DENOMINATION.  IF YOU HAVE A GIFT AND A BRAIN, YOU ARE TOO GOOD FOR POLITICS AND RELIGION.  SAVE US FROM OURSELVES.  GIVE US A MODERN DAY SOAPBOX TO RAISE THE REAL CONCERNS.  SPEAK WITH ENOUGH AUTHORITY TO DROWN OUT ALL THE LITTLE PROBLEMS WE HAVE TODAY. 

AS LONG THERE ARE PEOPLE OPPRESSED, NO ONE IS FREE...

GUESS WHAT? PEOPLE ARE STILL OPPRESSED AND THE COLOR BARRIERS ARE FADING MORE AND MORE DAILY!!         WE ARE ALL ONE CULTURE.  THIS CANNOT BE IGNORED ANY LONGER YOU FUCKING FOOLS!!!

(Not you reading this of course but all the morons that don't have access to thoughts like this and even if they did, they would just write it off as hippy-dippy bullshit that doesn't speak to them and their kind.  Que cera...)

Currently listening : Lets Get Free By Dead Prez Release date: 22 February, 2000

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