A Letter to the Drivers of Los Angeles

Drivers of the greater Los Angeles area, 

            I hate you.  Why?  Well the list of reasons is seemingly endless –and just a side note- none of you are as important as you think you are.  I don’t care who you are, I don’t care if you’re a celebrity, think you are, or just think you are going to become one, you’re all horrible people to me, at least when you’re on the highways.

            First things first; the “fast lane” is for “faster” traffic, if you can’t seem to find that skinny peddle on the right, get the fuck out of my way, and just because you have two people in your car doesn’t mean you have to drive in the carpool lane.  Once again that lane is for faster moving traffic.  When you get in there just because you have the number of people which constitutes a carpool all you’re doing is creating more congestion.

            Next, why is there a need to slam on the brakes, and stare every time there is a car pulled over on the side of the road?  I’m not talking about a five car pile up, with one of them upside down, on fire, and body parts are strewn about the road…I’d take a look at that one.  I’m talking about that guy whose jalopy has overheated, or the girl who is pulled over, and is being written a ticket. There’s no reason to slow every one else down just so you can bare witness to the same old day-to-day bullshit. 

            That brings us to the next point.  Sirens of police, fire, and other emergency personnel means pull to the right and give them room to pass, not to stop wherever you may be (in the middle of the road), and panic like a twelve-year-old girl experiencing her first period, and hope they can find there way around.  Chances are if the siren is on, someone is either hurt or in trouble, or maybe in an accident caused by a duesch like you, so set aside your misguided sense of self importance and just move over, it’s not that hard. 

            Finally, don’t be indecisive. If the light’s green, and want to turn left, get in the intersection, and make you’re intent known.

            So next time you want to drive like every other L.A. jackass and cause traffic, at least cause it by careening your car into a cement wall, or anything else that would take one more of you off the road.

Revolution of the Shrooms

We are, to the establishment, (“the man, the government, the powers that be”), nothing more than shrooms are to a psychedelic gardener.  We are viewed as something that can be kept in the dark, fed shit, and we are expected to thrive;  at least to until we grow to a state that are of use to them (either ready to be eaten or sold with the result of a simple smile, or a sum of cash expected as the outcome), then it is time to digest us and crap us out in a fashion intended to do no less than perpetuate the capitalistic expectations ordained upon us at the time of our birth to die slowly in order to increase the wealth of a stranger, or to die (hopefully) quickly in a war for oil in the name of a president you probably didn’t vote for. 

Enough; it is time for the mushrooms to revolt.  Go out into to the world and live up to your calling.  Infect the minds of those who claim ownership over you.  Help to expand the minds of those around you.  Point out the flaws in humanity and fight for the way it should be, whatever the way you think it should be may be.  No matter how different the ideals may be, as long as they challenge the way things are it is a step forward.  Granted a common solution would be ideal, but in my book the best way to finally end the crusades would be to burn Jerusalem to the ground, leave everyone with nothing to fight over…what would come of it?  I don’t know, but hell, they’re would be nothing left to fight over.

We are rapidly reaching the point where the masses will realize the bullshit they have been being fed.  The revolution of shrooms is soon to be upon us.  People are soon to realize that what we are told on the news is not true.  Take today for example, they tell us that “we” killed Bin Laden, just in time for the upcoming election too (I’m sure that has nothing to do with it).  And what is the response of the masses, “the war is over”…”our troops are coming home….that’s right, just like all those troops that came home from Iraqi after Sadam was hung.  Right?  Oh wait, that didn’t happen.  It would appear (with the exception of the completely socially inept) that they have created a lie that there is no possibility of growing based on more lies.  I mean wasn’t finding/killing Osama the entire reason we went to war in the first place; but he’s dead now, why would we stay….Oil?  Well they say that’s not true, so let’s just reside in the dark and eat up their shit

The plight of women

             The best and worst part of living in L.A. is all the beautiful women.  Sure it is a city full of tantalizing women, but there in lies the problem;  I fall in love every ten seconds, buts it’s never with the woman, it’s with either, lips, legs, tits, or ass…never with the woman though.  My theory is that women move to L.A. they trade their personality for a tight ass, and their soul for some top shelf breast implants.   They all start to blend together as the next generation of Barbie dolls.   I fear that the next one I get the pants off of will have nothing but a molded plastic bump where there should be a hole. 

            Where am I supposed to find someone I may want to spend my life with if I can’t even find someone I want to spend ten minutes with.  Come on ladies, I always thought you were supposed to be the ones looking to the future, yet I constantly find myself surrounded by a sea of artificial blondes willing to fuck for the price of two drinks at a bar. 

            You want to be an actress…yeah sure I’m a produce.  You want to be a model…yeah sure, I’m a photographer… Nothing but a bunch of harlots hoping to be remembered by this generations twelve year olds when they’re forty as what they used to jack off to.  Unfortunately most of you aren’t as hot as you think, and the ones that are seem to be looking for some fifty year old who in some way resembles their daddy. 

            Well I’m sorry that I don’t have a grey stripe through my hair, or drive a car that compensates for my phallic disabilities.  I hope that you all find what you’re looking for; or die soon of V.D.  It’s all the same to me. 

            

Rant #1

What the hell is wrong with this world?  I am twenty-six years old, and all my friends are already reliving their high school glory days.  Not in the typical sense you see in every sitcom and movie to pollute this fair earth.  They weren’t all football stars, remembering their game winning touchdown, or the prom queens trying to live vicariously through her three-year-old daughter, who will more than likely become a crack whore or a rape and murder victim.  I am talking about all these people that just won’t admit that high school ended almost ten years ago.  They are stuck somewhere between when they’re mother’s weaned them, and death.  They wake up every morning go through the grind of “what I have to do” all the time still talking about their big dreams of what they are going to do with their lives.  At least they still have dreams I guess.  Yet they never seem to act on them.  If you want to be a musician, and you work a part time dead end job for three hours a day, how about instead of getting off work and bitching about how meaningless it is for the rest of the day while you get shithouse drunk, just to wake up the next day and repeat your day to day life, counting down the days until the weekend is here, just so you can drink yourself stupid again, and pretend like your life is taking you somewhere that you want to go, you play an instrument for a few hours. 

            Of course people are always bitching about dreams never coming true, they never will if they are only in your head.  Drag them out and chase them down.  Don’t just think that because you want it to happen it will by some act of god or faith.  Whatever god it is that you do or don’t believe in; you are the closest thing to his actual existence, so go do something to better yourself.

            Do I fall into this same category of hopeless aged youth?  Well I’ve never been known for my skills of self-evaluation, but the fact is that I want to be a writer, and no matter how off-putting, downbeat, or pessimistic this may be, I’m still sitting here writing it, instead of just moping around talking about how I should write something.  Should is the single most useless word in the English language, it just gives leeway to procrastination.  Instead of thinking of what you should do, stop being a useless lazy sack of shit, and go do something, anything.

            Get off your ass, stop with the self-loathing, and work towards the life you want.  Or at least quit bitching about it.  I don’t care.