"In summer, the song sings itself."
-William Carlos Williams
-William Carlos Williams
I used to think Dick Cheney was the personification of evil itself. No matter how many false smiles he portrayed when shaking the hands of various people or troops, it was always within that face something far sinister than I can describe looking out at me. Little Reagen from the Exorcist would say to the priest, "Your mother sucks cocks in hell," and that had quite an effect on me with how far evil can go. How many think that this would just make Cheney smile? Even on Mother's Day?
But, no, I think evil is can be found a bit further up in the gas companies. Sure, they advertise how great they are in their procedures being more about helping the environment. In spite of what? I'll never forget the Valdez and its massive oil spill but I also got wind of a kid's picture taken of the gas prices in his hometown, San Francisco. $4.35 is just way too rich for my blood seeing as I am about to depart for 2.45 hours of driving this Friday. I'm just dying to get off the Saudi dick. Aren't you?
Isn't it here that you find yourself saying "Fuck being able to shoot webs out of my wrists! I would rather fly so I can forget gas prices and shit on Exxon's latest CEO after a large amount of mashed potatoes and McDonald's green fish sandwiches." They really are green, aren't they?
It's Mother's Day so why not a lil' tribute to mine? You might be askin' yourself why such a big lovable lug like me got to where I am in mind/body/spirit. Well, I'll tell you the one thing I'm pretty sure started it all.
Flash cards. No joke. My mom grilled me when I was in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Grades on these things. Of course, she was a 3rd Grade teacher so there was no weirdness to find me, after a long hard day of playing outside, sitting on the floor memorizing 9 X 9 and other tricky multiplications. My classes used to play a game of Around the World where a student would stand behind someone and try to get all the way around by saying the answer first. Hard? I did it a lot thanks to major grillings over those tricky nines. My nemesis was Mark, a blonde male that drove me nuts with his perfectionism. When it was the 2 of us doing battle, it was not surprising that we'd spend several moments tied while shouting out answers til a nun gave it to one of us.
But it's not just flash cards. My mother is a tough old broad (She'll laugh if she read that, though), tough but fair. Look, I know she spoils me but there is something more to it. I don't always get what I want and there is always a limit. I'm certainly not the greedy type so I don't care. My whole outlook on life is to have a great girlfriend, a big black couch to sink into, and a giant home theater experience to escape the day's blackness for just those 2 hours. No bling, motorcycles, rims, flashy cars, pool table, Armani clothing, and so on. I'd take the 40 acres of land that Bald-O lives on, just to run around like a village idiot for the day.
People say they see a very large resemblance between my mother and I. Funny because I only see how similar we are in thought. My mother and I care about the very thing many religious fucks don't, the earth and this world. Now, she may be going to church, something I would burn upon setting foot in, but she sees that the flowers and trees are far more important than alms to keep the church alive and tax-free.
Sometimes, I wonder what my mother thinks of me. There is a lot of trust for her quote to me when it comes to sex was this: "You are NOT bringing the cops home and she is NOT pregnant." If anything, my mother actually encouraged me to explore my sexuality. What I'm pretty sure of is that my parents used to be crazy kids way back when. I'm guessing that my father's need to eat so much also brings about her not liking my growth from working out.
"You might crush her if you get too big."
I know for a fact that I am my mother's favorite. No one else can talk like I do and make her laugh when it comes to our inside jokes on my dog's farts (sounds like a whistle), not knowing how to keep food on a fork, or how amusing it is to her that 5-Pound Phooey absolutely adores me. There are little things like how a tiny dog looks at a person that brings her joy, I guess. My brother, on the other hand, does very little with hardly any personality.
But hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! Oh, I've made her mad. Lucky my mother still doesn't know about the day I got my license and ended up with the car in a business's bushes, though. There have been many moments where I was forced to not do what I wanted or get somewhere that I just had to go to. You remember those awkward teenage years where parties were a place to be seen? Me, I just wanted to see what shit my friends would do this time instead of having to hear about it in class the next day.
But my mother has this huge trust me in more than other people's. I went to New Mexico on my own to see Kristan, the 29-year-old woman of amazing talents that took my virginity with the smoothness of her lips as my fear of someone seeing my junk for the first time was put at ease when I was ordered to take off her jeans and do what I wanted down there. Long sentence? Well, you had to be there as my nervousness of peeing in her mouth was huge since it was, after all, my first blowjob but hello love of pussy galore (I could so go on at how glorious it was to explore female genitals for the first time-Tee hee)! Barely 19, much later, but bought a train ticket to see the woman that broke my heart on V-Day, Kristan. So worth it.
Trust in that my mum knows I do things that are kind of questionable but I have to. I had to go to Canada to meet PenDragon. I had to go to Indiana. I had to drive down south to see Bald-O. I had to go with people I only lightly know all the way to Atlanta. I had to let a friend go because his alcoholism fucked things up. I had to explore my own stupid needs in order to be me. Yeah, many things worried Mum but she understood.
So, all mommies out there are cool. Knowing me, I will correct myself in saying that those bad apples that drop their newborns in the trash or alcoholics/junkies don't count and I hope they get hit by buses going at high speeds. Whether we realize it or not, mums want to be a part of our lives forever. If she insists on doing your laundry, don't fret so much. No mother would allow you out of the house with 'skid marks' and grass stains in your socks. Tomorrow, if I'm up for it, I'll do my annual love of you-know-what. Happy twats all around.
But, no, I think evil is can be found a bit further up in the gas companies. Sure, they advertise how great they are in their procedures being more about helping the environment. In spite of what? I'll never forget the Valdez and its massive oil spill but I also got wind of a kid's picture taken of the gas prices in his hometown, San Francisco. $4.35 is just way too rich for my blood seeing as I am about to depart for 2.45 hours of driving this Friday. I'm just dying to get off the Saudi dick. Aren't you?
Isn't it here that you find yourself saying "Fuck being able to shoot webs out of my wrists! I would rather fly so I can forget gas prices and shit on Exxon's latest CEO after a large amount of mashed potatoes and McDonald's green fish sandwiches." They really are green, aren't they?
It's Mother's Day so why not a lil' tribute to mine? You might be askin' yourself why such a big lovable lug like me got to where I am in mind/body/spirit. Well, I'll tell you the one thing I'm pretty sure started it all.
Flash cards. No joke. My mom grilled me when I was in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Grades on these things. Of course, she was a 3rd Grade teacher so there was no weirdness to find me, after a long hard day of playing outside, sitting on the floor memorizing 9 X 9 and other tricky multiplications. My classes used to play a game of Around the World where a student would stand behind someone and try to get all the way around by saying the answer first. Hard? I did it a lot thanks to major grillings over those tricky nines. My nemesis was Mark, a blonde male that drove me nuts with his perfectionism. When it was the 2 of us doing battle, it was not surprising that we'd spend several moments tied while shouting out answers til a nun gave it to one of us.
But it's not just flash cards. My mother is a tough old broad (She'll laugh if she read that, though), tough but fair. Look, I know she spoils me but there is something more to it. I don't always get what I want and there is always a limit. I'm certainly not the greedy type so I don't care. My whole outlook on life is to have a great girlfriend, a big black couch to sink into, and a giant home theater experience to escape the day's blackness for just those 2 hours. No bling, motorcycles, rims, flashy cars, pool table, Armani clothing, and so on. I'd take the 40 acres of land that Bald-O lives on, just to run around like a village idiot for the day.
People say they see a very large resemblance between my mother and I. Funny because I only see how similar we are in thought. My mother and I care about the very thing many religious fucks don't, the earth and this world. Now, she may be going to church, something I would burn upon setting foot in, but she sees that the flowers and trees are far more important than alms to keep the church alive and tax-free.
Sometimes, I wonder what my mother thinks of me. There is a lot of trust for her quote to me when it comes to sex was this: "You are NOT bringing the cops home and she is NOT pregnant." If anything, my mother actually encouraged me to explore my sexuality. What I'm pretty sure of is that my parents used to be crazy kids way back when. I'm guessing that my father's need to eat so much also brings about her not liking my growth from working out.
"You might crush her if you get too big."
I know for a fact that I am my mother's favorite. No one else can talk like I do and make her laugh when it comes to our inside jokes on my dog's farts (sounds like a whistle), not knowing how to keep food on a fork, or how amusing it is to her that 5-Pound Phooey absolutely adores me. There are little things like how a tiny dog looks at a person that brings her joy, I guess. My brother, on the other hand, does very little with hardly any personality.
But hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! Oh, I've made her mad. Lucky my mother still doesn't know about the day I got my license and ended up with the car in a business's bushes, though. There have been many moments where I was forced to not do what I wanted or get somewhere that I just had to go to. You remember those awkward teenage years where parties were a place to be seen? Me, I just wanted to see what shit my friends would do this time instead of having to hear about it in class the next day.
But my mother has this huge trust me in more than other people's. I went to New Mexico on my own to see Kristan, the 29-year-old woman of amazing talents that took my virginity with the smoothness of her lips as my fear of someone seeing my junk for the first time was put at ease when I was ordered to take off her jeans and do what I wanted down there. Long sentence? Well, you had to be there as my nervousness of peeing in her mouth was huge since it was, after all, my first blowjob but hello love of pussy galore (I could so go on at how glorious it was to explore female genitals for the first time-Tee hee)! Barely 19, much later, but bought a train ticket to see the woman that broke my heart on V-Day, Kristan. So worth it.
Trust in that my mum knows I do things that are kind of questionable but I have to. I had to go to Canada to meet PenDragon. I had to go to Indiana. I had to drive down south to see Bald-O. I had to go with people I only lightly know all the way to Atlanta. I had to let a friend go because his alcoholism fucked things up. I had to explore my own stupid needs in order to be me. Yeah, many things worried Mum but she understood.
So, all mommies out there are cool. Knowing me, I will correct myself in saying that those bad apples that drop their newborns in the trash or alcoholics/junkies don't count and I hope they get hit by buses going at high speeds. Whether we realize it or not, mums want to be a part of our lives forever. If she insists on doing your laundry, don't fret so much. No mother would allow you out of the house with 'skid marks' and grass stains in your socks. Tomorrow, if I'm up for it, I'll do my annual love of you-know-what. Happy twats all around.
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