Rollin' Like Sisyphus

Good Music Friday — Three Feet Of Mucus Edition

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on March 17, 2017

FRIDAY AIN’T NO THING WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO WORK IT.
So earlier this week, we sent up Challenger II, in increments, and awaited the fireworks.
Three days on, and nothing e‘slpoding yet.
Still, treading carefully over here.
So I find myself with 10 minutes to myself for once, a miracle of uncertain dimension, yet it colors me optimistic.
AND THEN I GET A HORRIBLE CASE OF BRONCHITIS BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT.
So this is the first day off(actually, really, no-foolin’ off) and I get to spend it trying to suck in life-sustaining air through a diaphragm of mucus at least three feet thick.
I FEEL ALIVE, WHAT CAN I SAY.
A lot of shit seems to be transpiring in the world, so much that I can hardly keep up with it if I even bothered to care. Can’t watch or listen to the news at all anymore; a half-hour broadcast is 22 minutes of TRUMPZOMG!!1!, 86 seconds of dumb chicks who are not nearly hot enough to be on television pointing to maps and telling me about the weather, and 90 seconds of some human interest story that, lately, is repetitive variants on IMMIGRANT DONE GOOD. The rest is commercials. They don’t even bother with sports any more.
So fuck the news.
Even Drudge is bringing me down lately, then it suddenly occurred to me – I think I finally shed the final fuck I had to give.
It’s a great feeling, except now I have absolutely no idea what is going on, nor do I care to learn anymore.
Are we at war with someone Over There?
Don’t care.
Trump been impeached yet?
Sorry, fresh out of fucks. Don’t expect on seeing more any time soon neither.
Any more protests?
Watch as I emphatically and dismissively shrug my shoulders with an immature yet smug expression on my face that clearly indicates what I think of you and your questions.
This is where I am.
And it’s not a bad place to be.
So when the world ends, and creation comes tumbling down all around us, as it inevitably will, I, too, can be genuinely surprised at the timing of it all.
It’s St. Patrick’s Day today, a day where everyone in America becomes a little bit Irish by drinking themselves stupid, but not troubling too much about it because unlike other nights of the year where they get shitface drunk, at least what is supposed to come back out after March 17 is supposed to be green.
March Madness is in full swing. I’ve created a bracket that is already up in flames, because, see above; they don’t even have a sports report anymore and I don’t get a chance to watch games or enjoy anything at all because EVERY SINGLE MOTHER FUCKING THING IN THIS CUNT WAFFLE YOU CALL A SOCIETY HAS TO BE GAMED TO THE LEFT OF THE SOCIO-POLITICAL SPECTRUM, SO FUCK OFF AND DIE, FAGGOTS.
I also note that Our Former Simple Affirmative Action President created a bracket, but since he doesn’t matter anymore, neither does his bracket.
Alright.
Off to drink this thing off and tap into my culture and heritage.
Oh, and if you come across any Scottish folk acting all tough and indignant about BEING SCOTTISH on this day, do remind them that the Irish at least had the balls to fight back against the English, not bankrupt them through sponging up the entitlement money.
Have a bitchin’ weekend, and get ‘em the fuck in.

SONG SELECTION

My Little Armalite
Roll Of Honour
The Irish Brigade
1975 | IRB Publications


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One Response

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  1. El Borak said, on March 17, 2017 at 11:40

    You’d think that Kansas and basketball having the relationship that they do, I would be able to find at least one thing here that I care less about than the tournament. But nope. Lots of things in the currentYear() sit right at zero fucks given, but can’t get less. Actually, that’s not completely true. If Wichita State should knock off the Jayhawks again (I assume they’re in the tournament), I’ll give a hearty laugh. but otherwise nope. Not even a little.

    Tomorrow the grape cuttings that became vines get planted, as do the potatoes, the latter in a brand-new, seashell-shaped bed that I finished last weekend. I’ve got this idea to create a weed-free potato bed by planting clover in the bed as soon as the potatoes come up. Maybe it’ll work, maybe you can grow potatoes in a barrel, too.

    Glad to hear your space shuttle isn’t spraying quivering little chunks of teacher all over everything. That’s always a bonus.


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