Hey, That was Easy!

I saw a sign today that advertised the purchase and installation of your very own swimming pool, following a credit check. I thought about all of the wonderful things you can own in this country, if your credit stacks up properly. It occured to me that this may be the answer to zero population growth! I propose every child born from here out (my own included) should be made clinicly sterile at birth. Tiny little vasectemies and tying little tubes. Later, once you have reached the voting/drinking/leasing/firearm purchasing age, you can (after securing a marriage license and husband or wife) begin to petition for pregnancy. This process will include a full credit check, full health insurance, and at least ten competant references. Now, im not saying the poor should not be able to have kids- oh, wait, that IS what im saying. But, just like going to the old car lot, you should be allowed only what YOU can afford. Also, in my world, we would hunt down any doctor that prescribed fertility drugs to some jackass that ALREADY has a kid or two, and then busts a kitten litter of six babies. I love to see these couples on TV, whining about how much help they now need from the community around them working in shifts to fix their little fuck up. You want to make six kids at once? Fine. But you have to round up six of your oldest relatives, and wack em. Got to make room in the world for them kids. If you have a problem with this idea, drive your ass up to Winn-Dixie around the first of the month and take a peek. Got to go, my baby needs milk.

Loving Tribute

When I die, I want all of my closest friends and relatives to go down to the flea market, and buy some memorial tribute car window stickers to show the world how much I meant to them. Now, if any of you are rich at that time and have really nice cars, I DONT want you to get a sticker. I want the really poor fuckup ones with shit heap cars to become my eternal monument. A sticker with my name and birth/death date stuck on the cracked window of an 82 Corrolla would really show Jesus what time it is when I show up at the gates. Make sure you spend the extra buck and get some type of descriptive graphic like a baseball, or a fucking Nike emblem that you chose with love from the ten choices they rock. Just remember, everytime you drive that shitter, I will be a spirit in the passenger seat- trying to yank the wheel every time you go over a bridge.

Goody Goody Bum Drops!

Now here's a little ditty I have been working on for some time. This one comes from deep inside my warped mechanism, just for you. I have in fact, discovered a way to END chronic homelessness ( wow thats a lot of S's) in the very first year of my ten year reign. I call my equation "goody goody bum drops". First I shall compile a list of each cities most down trodden wretches. Only the ones who have been lost in the streets for at least five years. This way, I only effect the most truly deserving. The ones who have proven that they are REALLY in bad shape with no chance of EVER becoming productive again. I will erect a series of luxury shelters, warm and inviting. I will invite the chosen ones to come and retire to hobo heaven, and leave those other new homeless suckers to the hustle. And then, they will stroll inside and begin to soak in the opulence of the grand foyer, as the floor beneath them quickly falls away. After ten minutes of sloshing about in my various marinades, the heat comes on and slowly cooks away the delicious sauce. The massive hydrolic press lurches into position, and out pops a new "street people" only energy bar that I will call the "POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" bar. Now you know, crack heads cant eat THAT much crack head, so I want to use a little of that baked goodness to create a new dog biscuit called "Ho-Bones" to feed to stray dogs. And you know what happens once they get the taste for something!

People Helping People

I may have solved the chronic fat ass problem in America. Move the scale thats built into the self checkout unit at the grocery store, and put it on the floor where you stand to check out. Add a body weight limit to the bar code on all foods, and drinks. When fatty attempts to buy the twenty pound sack of bar-b-q flavored hog snaps, an ear piercing alarm alerts the whole store to their fattitude. The cashier behaves in the same manor as though a minor was trying to buy beer.It should be illegal to sell fat people fat. I want to loosen the wheels on the Publix hog sled electric scooter that they post out front for the folks who have just gave the fuck up. I want to see someone round the corner to the snack isle on that thing and have the wheel pop off and roll the whole apparatus, or apparfatus. I want to see a couple innocent bystanders be taken along like a Brazilian road rally race gone horribly wrong. I hope one day this will be a reality. I will be in front of Publix, trying to pay a kid to go buy my gravy.

Der Swatter

A few days ago, I went to Walgreens to buy some crap. I got my crap and spotted a lime green fly swatter, and picked it up to buy. As I was making my way back to the register, I saw a bum standing in the isle, looking at me. I knew since I had already made eye contact that he would try to hit me up for change, and he started to approach. I suddenly made the solid choice to swat the shit out of him if he tried to stop me. I only had one real problem, and it wasn't moral fiber. It was that the swatter was to flimsy, and had no real weight. I knew it would be hard enough to be really funny, but not enough to leave a mark. I think he sensed it with his crack savvy, and turned away. So, if any one knows where you can buy a really big, maybe novelty size fly swatter, please let me know. A pest is a fucking pest.