King, Saint, Cruise Line And Reading For The Blind

Right. I don't need your support anyway Joel. My boss wants me to be a fucking Army historian all of a sudden. Well I must have anal glaucoma, because I don't see my ass doing it. Call me and teach me how to live. I can spark your fire and I will save your relationship. Feed from my lyrical teat and blame your mom and dad for not loving you enough...or too much. I am so pissed with you people it is beyond words.
You read about the guy who knocked the teacher out because the teacher was fucking with the guy's daughter? I'm sorry, but I'd have slit his fucking throat and video taped it. Then I would make that into a DVD and FEDEX the DVD to his mother. I would send her one for the rest of my life. And when I stood trial and the judge sentenced me to punishment, well shit. I would have to inform him of my plan of killing the bailiff, escaping and drinking a bottle of gin and running his mother over. Then I would do it. I'm all or nothing. Don't half-ass anything, that's my motto.
I think today I will do something special. I think today I will not write anything sappy, apathetic, cryptic, random or clever. I will not give anyone advice. Today sparks a new day in my blogworld. A day filled with beauty. This new day is great. This new day is short; because soon I will get back to writing all the stuff I won't write about today.
Today I will tell you all of a man, a special man. He is a man of supreme intellect. He is a man of unparalleled power. He is a real man. Every woman I have met has wanted to bone him. He is a thief of hearts and a tender man of incorruptible passion. I am a better person for knowing him and your soul suffers unspeakable horrors for not knowing him. You know this man as cocaine. I know him by his first name. That makes me better than you.
Cocaine. The man is like Barry White. He does his part. If you are out and cocaine is there and you aren't having a good time...it ain't cocaine’s fault. I first met cocaine somewhere. But then we went to Denny’s. Cocaine and I had a pleasant cross-restaurant war by flicking sugar packets at each other. I then knew he was clearly a supreme power.
Time passed and yadda blah yadda. But I will not simply tell stories of him. I will let you know of him.
You can't talk to cocaine. Let me clarify. It is an exercise in logic to talk to him. See, cocaine is a doctor, and aside from being a doctor he is close to the smartest person to walk the earth. So he tries to explain things to you and by the end of it you are more confused than when he began. But it does not matter because once he sees in your eyes how lost you are, he sums it up in 3 words and everything he said makes sense. I think it's a game he plays.
Another game he plays is hockey. And if God made a hockey player who moonlights as a shit head, I haven't met him. Cocaine is a catchphrase machine. Check it. Something our group has always done is argued, for the fun of the argument. I watched cocaine lose an argument once and while he was reaching to try to make a point someone told him to shut it down because he was losing. Cocaine responded by informing us that, "Whatever dude, I'm winning."
Cocaine does that. He was fucking something up once and I mean really dicking it up, and when I informed him he was dicking it all up he said, "No. I'm making it better." This is what he does. "Fuck you cocaine." "No. You are the one who is fuck." Splendid.
I listened to him spout off nonsense for a good forty minutes. When he realized that he jabber jawing, he ended his incoherent diatribe with, "These are ideas." He and I were talking of hockey and I mentioned that I hated Bertuzzi. I said, "Fuck him. That guy is a cheap shot little bitch." To which the astute response was an emphatic, "No. He's a really large bitch. That guy is like 6'7" on skates." Touché.
I've drunk with this man on numerous occasions. I have also been privy to many a car wash from cars he has thrown up on or in after us drinking. Outside of a bar once, a random and rather large passerby nicely asked me for a cigarette. Out of nowhere, completely drunken cocaine points at this man and screams, "No cigarette. No fucking cigarette for you."
He came to visit me along with unkind while I was in Boston. It was great. I have video of the three of us being drunk, but only two of us being cognizant of anything. Cocaine starting purring and shaking. He said that he was a cat named Mustafa and that purring and shaking helped him fall asleep. A comment to which unkind and I were forced to throw a barrage of books upon his pre-slumber shenanigans. Also during this weekend, cocaine informed me that he could run 4 miles faster than 4 miles.
Cocaine also has the uncanny ability to destroy a car. I have never met a man who can simply walk by a car and the wheels will fall off. Every car that man has touched has had bad and inexplicable things happen to it. He sat in my TL a few times and now my tint is all fucked. I know better than to think it was shitty craftsmanship.
Cocaine has the metabolism of a hummingbird. I've watched that man eat close to 12 pounds of breakfast once. He lost 4 pounds during the meal. He is a remarkable man and he gets my respect. Check it.