There are no innocents, only the squeamish and the aroused.
This was a great piece Roger. I'm so glad you were able to make it home in time. I can only imagine how hard this was to write.
Wow. I don't have the words, Roger. Reminds me of when my granddad died...yeah, really good stuff. Really looking forward to the eulogy.Hope your doing well, man. As well as can be.
McDonalds, if you think about it, is the PERFECT example of life/lifestyles in the late 20th/early 21st century. Pink slime shaped like chicken nuggets, giant lawsuit-happy corporations suing people for using the prefix "Mc" no matter what the circumstances, marketing aimed at small children (Ronald, etc) to form life-long associations with the product, and the abysmally-effective "I'M LOVING IT" marketing ploy aimed at maintaining that association into the person's adult life...With the advertisement showing skinny, attractive people while in reality the AVERAGE customer is 45 pounds overweight.All style, no substance almost-food sold to brainwashed masses. It's AMERICA™, in a white paper bag.
This is for all of you out there who have shit going on, in your life, and can't deal. Can't vent. Can't defend yourself from.There are times when you must be seen, heard, felt. And even the most apathetic or the most cynical of us do it. There are times when you must stick your head over the trench wall and see others toiling away, and take comfort from the fact that you are not alone.So I am here. I am listening.Some of us take up the pen, the sword, the megaphone, and turn negativity into a positive. Some of us create temporary monuments out of the shrapnel that rains on us.This is why: if we do not shit our hate, we will die.Your tasks are your own, what you do, you must do alone, but what is done, will be seen. The best will be remembered and emulated and refined, it is true, but the best will fade as fast as the worst.There is nothing permanant. In the space of a life time, we build many monuments, and we tear many down.There is respite, though. There is a moment of hiding in a shell crater as you run across no-mans-land, sharing a knowing glance with another refugee, leaving your mark, before you jump up again, and run to the next bit of scant cover. There is that assurance that what we do will have meaning, for a fleeting time perhaps, but not an empty gesture.
If Luna was a furry, she'd sex humans and scream "BEASTIALITY!" at the top of her lungs at inopportune times.
I like the Luna one. She is a good one.
"Stop talking to yourself. You don't like you any better than anyone else who knows you."
I'll see if I can find that, and repost sometime this weekend.
I'm fine. He had a long, healthy life, and went out in his sleep. If you have to choose your exit, it wasn't a bad one.