What Will Bring Me Home

Right. Love pulls sore muscles. I remember when this blog was a good time. Remember when cocaine opined about incoherrent shit? Remember when that one girl would argue with unkind? Remember when I wrote about things other than how I hate my job? I remember these things. I wonder what that psychic who said the clearly true statement that I will marry JESSICA BIEL would say if she actually met me. They don't call me danger boy anymore. They don't call me anything.
I would like to have a sitdown with the President. There are things I'd like to ask him.
I watched "The Departed" this weekend. Are you joking me? That movie won awards? That sucked. I hated it. First of all, it was dumb. Second of all, it was really dumb. If I don't like a movie, something is wrong because I like everything. Except for crap, and "The Departed" was crap. Don't wactch it. Unless you like crap.
When I am an old man and all fucked up and ready to die and all. I'll bet there will be a gaggle of nurses arguing over who gets to do the sponging. I will be such the old man ready to die pimp. Then when I die, the nurses will straighten my hat and button my shirt and kiss old man dead pimp Yossarian as they cry and send me off to the ground. When I am in the ground, all the grubs and insects and shit that lives in the dirt will eventually chew through the box I will be contained in. They will be mighty tired after all the work of chewing through the wood and when bugs and shit that live in dirt get tired they fuck. So they will fuck all over me and lay eggs and whatnot. My body will then be fodder for the results of bug fucking. I should tell those hot nurses that dead pimp Yossarian should be burned and his ashes need to be spread over popcorn, because I am a salty dude. I make shit taste better anyway. Like today when my noodles sucked and I added a little thing called "boiling water." Then them bastards tasted good.
I should blog more. I have been slacking. Mostly because I work so much.
I wonder what's the worst that can happen if I just stopped talking and began to stare at a wall. I wonder what's the worst that can happen if I did that long enough to get locked up in a mental institution. I wonder what's the worst that can happen if I wear a white robe and slippers and watch TV the rest of my life. I wonder what's the worst that can happen. Because I like slippers, robes, sleep and not having moronic conversations with people.
The thing that I really love about my life is that no matter what happens, at some point in time I might get something I want. It's good to have something to look forward to.
Democrats have zero ideas. Republicans only have bad ideas. I'm not sure who said that, but I like it. But then again, I like the idea of living in a mental institution and I've never considered myself a republican. But then again I've never considered myself a democrat. I think I'm more of a guy waiting for things to make sense, or at least be abducted by aliens.