Purging the System

All right, I know my writing has been sucking the proverbial donkey member since about Saturday and for this I apologize. I don’t really get writer’s block; I just produce a subpar product. Also, I have two more excuses: I have been sick and there’s a bunch of random shit I need to get out of my system. Since I’ve already exercised the chicken soup option, I think I’ll purge the word machine for a few minutes. This is a flow; it is your choice whether or not to go.

Taking a break from my work, putting the phone down and the papers aside, and then stepping outside to toss the Nerf football around with the pizza shop employees next door creates one of the best feelings I get every work day. And I know that’s sad. But what can you do? We all gotta eat.

When Albert Pujols hit his game winning homerun the night before last, I had already written the Cardinals off so deeply (I mean I was ready to focus on next season by that inning) that I didn’t even have one of those, “Yes! I knew we could do it!” moments. Instead, I had one of those, “Well, dagum. This ain’t over yet” moments. It was as if all the life was drained from me over the course of nine innings and Pujols’ homer sparked a reverse of the same experience at the same speed. I didn’t really celebrate until three hours later, when all the life had finally been breathed back into me. Moral: sports mean too much to me.

I’m not much for just coming out and saying that I hate certain people. But here is my biggest problem with humanity: no one takes credit for their own actions anymore. I mean, shit. It’s one thing to have become a culture of morons incapable of forming their own opinions, but it’s quite another to be a part of a culture that doesn’t even recognize its own actions and the consequences thereof. This is why the government thinks it should steal all our money to baby-sit us. They think we want to be led like sheep. And lately, I think they’re right.

I think I’ll write a poem:

Went down to the valley and got some gin,
said ‘hey good looking, where have you been?’
to the overweight maiden with the triple chin,
who always tells me what time it is.

Ya see, I plan my walk home to get downtown in time
So I can see all the pretty school girls unwind
as they kick back in the park before dinner time,
and you know I say I go there to unwind
but we all know the truth and she ain’t too kind.

Ah, that felt good.

Women of America, you are fast becoming a cliché. Seriously. I know maybe ten women in my life whose opinions I respect. Here’s the deal: television, movies and books are not real life; bitching accomplishes nothing; no one cares about your damn nails; and most importantly, women, you are the gender that respects peace more, that respects love more, that understands the wicked nature of humanity better, and yet you proceed to spend the bulk of your time either bitching about how things suck, or plotting to see what material possessions can make you feel better. Please, for the love of God, cool women (I’m talking to you, Lulu) find other women and teach them that being more emotional doesn’t need to equate to being an emotional wreck, that life is not lived on the pages of books or television and movie screens and that time spent complaining could be better used addressing the problem. Naturally, I am not holding my breath here.

Remember the President Bush who stood atop the World Trade Center rubble and reassured his country? Yeah, I miss that dude. This new guy’s been screwing the pooch for four years now.

Tonight, the St. Louis Cardinals take on the Houston Astros in Game 6 of the NLCS. This series is too insane for my flippant predictions. But I will offer one: Pujols takes three walks.

Thanks for letting me vent, y’all.