From A To M

“Nature abhors a vacuum, and if I can only walk with sufficient carelessness I am sure to be filled.”
- Henry David Thoreau

Nature might well abhor a vacuum, but not nearly as much as she hates a fag poet blabbering about getting his ass filled.

And speaking of blabbering poets, I suppose I might as well bless the front page with yet another one of my vicious spews before departing for a three day bender. The Big Day is over, Jesus ain’t come back yet, and I’m fucking drunk. Christmas presents are strewn across the floor, including a fifth of Wild Turkey with a red bow tied round the neck and a cock-eyed Asian with a mouth so pretty you wouldn’t care he was a man. Yes, ‘tis the season for Giving, folks, and I have indeed given every last drop of semen, sanity, and will, rendering me an impotent demented freak with a twitch, stricken with some strange malady of non sequitors and hatred of the Religious Right.

Either I have too many gay uncles, or not enough closet space in my room.

See? This is what bourbon and rage does to a man, crouched here on the toilet with a laptop computer and a three-day old newspaper, wiping my ass repeatedly with the same smeared article that gave all of two paragraphs to George Bush selling off 300,000 acres of the Tongass National Forest to his logger pimps. Now maybe some of you are thinking to yourself So fucking what? Or, if you’re stupid like me, What the fuck is an acre, anyway? Technically speaking, an acre is 43,560 square feet, or a block of woodland some 209 feet long on a side. And if you chop down 300,000 of those, you end up with a bald spot some 469 square miles in size. That’s nearly 1/2 the size of Rhode Island, or in other words, a really big fucking chunk of land.

I’d wipe my ass again, but you can only put so much shit on shit.

Putting on a dress and tucking your dick between your legs does not make you a woman, any more than sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office makes for an intelligent man. But with the right lines and a few drinks you might be able to convince the ignorant American taxpayers otherwise. George W. Bush must have some hella real estate agent to push a deal like that across the American table without more than a sideline blurb. Fuck, that many trees burn down, we got ourselves a national disaster. But sell the rights to a bunch of timber-chopping lobbyists, and it’s business. Never you mind that Iraqi clusterfuck, let’s just suspend our collective disbelief for a brief moment, so we might pretend that fucktard has a clue about foreign policy, economics, or proper grammer. Say it together, boy and girls, real convincing like: Bush was legitimately elected to office, is a veteran who served his country, and has balls.

Boy, I sure am glad I left my girlfriend.

My outrage isn’t with the Chief Asshat whoring Alaskan wood to his poker buddies. No, believe it or not, I’m fine with shitty politicians and cutting trees for profit. As far as I’m concerned, I say we chop down every goddamned tree, shrub, and bush in America and pave the whole place. But when I miss out on the chance to buy stock in Stihl power tools and get my hands in the money pot, because that sorry Pud is trying to broker the deal on the Down Low, that’s where the story goes wrong. That rat bastard is worse than Rocco with his assplay, buttfucking us with his Anti-Arab bombing mission before pulling it out and shoving his shitcovered dick in our mouths. Take our tax money and spend it on the Israeli killing machine or reconstructing the Iraq he trashed, then go in the backyard with his chainsaw and bring down the trees, too? Is there anything this guy can’t fuck up? Perhaps someone can explain the logic behind this, without bringing up some lame shit like “strategic thinning” to prevent forest fires or “Fuck you, Commie faggot, George Bush RuleZ!”

Oh, fuck it. This political shit has run dry as a whore on Sunday morning, and I have no faith left in the American people to stand up and do something about this. I might as well shut my mouth, put my elbows on the floor, and take my fucking with some grace, anyway. In a few short hours, I’ll be perched on a barstool with a shot glass fullo Jim Beam, with no newspapers or Internet connection, and all of this angst will go right back where I found it. Maybe, with any luck, I’ll emerge from the bar to a better world, a land without Arabs or green things, where everybody worships Jesus, believes in the death penalty, and lies through their teeth on television. The Democratic party with dissolve, leaving us in the backseat while a bunch of crazed born-again Zionist zealots drive this country into the ground, and afterwards we can all sit together and bitch about how much our assholes hurt, and compare the taste of shit in our mouths while this Fuck holes up in Texas and lives out his days on Fat American Tax Money with a government pension.

The President is raping Lady Liberty, people, right here in plain sight, and you’re looking the other way.

Something needs to be done. Soon.