Misanthropic Musings

If you need to look up the definition of misanthrope, I'll wait. No, take your time. I know, big words make your head hurt. S'ok. I understand. Dictionary.com is not a bookmarked favorite.

-whistles tunelessly-

Right. What? Oh. I see. Misspelled misanthrope? Google spell-check down? So you got Miss Ann's Ropes in your Web browser? Lots of pics of latex clad-folks bound with nylon cord you say? I hear you. Your sasuage fingers are still slick with the new McDonald's four cheesed- triple decked- baconator breakfast burger grease. Yeah, testify, with all that money you spend there, you'd think they'd throw in a wet-nap?! Fucking corporate America. Sue them, you say? Hmm. Lemme see if I got this straight: Having to lick the grease off your fingers after 3 squares at Mickey D's in turn raised your cholesterol and made you gain weight at an exponential rate, thus forcing you to drive on top of your steering wheel because of increased abdominal girth, and you had to thus crab-steer the wheel, which was now slick with a viscous, gelatinous substance of saliva and lard extract, you could not properly negotiate the drive thru exit curb and slammed into the person in front of you who stopped in the right-of-exit lane of said drive thru to give her screaming 5 year old his A.M. Happy Meal of chicken Mcnuggets, fries and strawberry lemonade shake, rooting around the bag to see if they threw in the requisite 5 packets of the new bacon barbecue flavored ketchup sauce for her Mornin' Eye-Opener 3 Egg and triple Sausage on a fried donut breakfast Banger and sent her careening into the landscaping pick up truck driven by the illegal immigrant (whoa, gotta be PC here, man, they prefer' undocumented guest- worker') who was being felatted by a crack-head hooker ( More PC correction:' substance abusing performance artist') who was distracted by her Blackberry because her pimp ( Yup- you got it-'performance artist manager') kept texting her, so she bit down when the mini-van hit the truck... Whew. Yeah I hear ya, what a mess indeed.

Hey, who says we are a frivolous, litigious, sue happy nation. Is that a bad thing? Our Founding Fathers were made up of lawyers and such,right? What? Ah. Founding Fathers. Yes. That's right. No, not a born again christian rock group. Errrr..no, not a sitcom on the WB.

Listen, skip it. Google them on your I-phone when you are at the Social Security Office of Disability Benefits waiting to collect your government compensation check. Say hi to the Performance artist and her manager and the undocumented guest- worker for me.

No, I can't chat. I have to go to work. no, I'll cover your Medicaid with my taxes. What's a few more thousand dollars tacked on over a one-year period. Don't be upset, I hear McDonalds' now delivers. Yeah, that's cool. Hell, you have enough to worry about. Tough time programming the FIOS remote HD DVR. Buttons are too damn small.

Hey, was that Binder and Binder commercial I hear in the background?

Seriously

I've noticed how many of the Blogs are serious business. Very serious. Like Preak Feen cookies.

(I've just dated myself. Ewww-not THAT kind of dated.......)

The body politic appears to have the lead in gravitas. Rightly so, I reckon, given the state of things in the global village today.

So, I'm going to let the heavyweights duke it out. This neophyte blogger is gonna take the low road and step gingerly over the detritus of you self-important gas-bags.

A Blog is Born

OK, another Blog crawls out of the womb of cyberspace. Golf clap everyone.

I know these things are a dime a dozen. What can I add to the multitude of voices out there in Internet-land? Not much. Perhaps a snippet of wry observation. A chuckle for the chuckle head. Bit of life experience served up medium well with a side of greasy commentary on the everyday every day.

So, please enjoy me. I'm not nutritious. My content is not displayed on the ubiquitous bar code, but I go down smooth.

Whoa.

Don't read between the lines. Nothing to see there. Move on.