Here's something you might be interested in.
Junior High School was a zoo. I hated it. I remember gym class, it was the first time I met Todd Dice. Hi, Todd. Amazing we grew up and continue to live after that debacle. Remember the gym teacher’s a-hole-ish rant? Deas, Dice, Dodd. Like we needed that. I had a crush on Tony Deas’ sister, but I reckon that was obvious. Her name was Margaret. She refused to go to the 8th grade dance with me. I loved what you wrote in my yearbook, by the way. I can’t repeat in here, I’d get censored. But I love you, man, it was great advice. I gave that advice to my son when he graduated high school. He took me up on it a few years later. My grandson is living proof of that.
So anyway, the greatest piece of advice, the most stoic and relevant statement philosophically, can be found on a can of deodorant. I discovered this in junior high school, I think I was twelve. I didn’t think about it much back then, I was far too concerned with breasts and marijuana and big giant jocks with more pubic hair than I had. I think I read the words on that can of deodorant because I was too afraid of stepping into the shower with Mike Adams. Mike always treated me well, but holy crap, the guy was a jock before I ever understood what that meant. Mike Adams had hair on his chest before he was thirteen years old. Holy hell, what a Goddamn nightmare.
Todd and me, and even Tony, well, I imagine that we just read the words on the cans of our deodorant and waited for the showers to clear out. What else could we do, Todd? What else could we do? We all dreamed of screwing girls, but lacked the prerequisite pubic hair. We should’ve rented some loaner stuff from Mike. I sure as hell hope that Mike’s okay these days. He’s probably bald if he is, but I bet he had great stories to tell in high school.
This is what the can of deodorant had printed on its backside, the most relevant philosophical verbiage you’ll ever read to this day. I promise, if you follow these words, you’ll gain a boatload of wisdom. It took me up until I was thirty-something to understand this. Hope you will do so at a younger age. This is it, sit down, have a seat, think about this:
“In Case of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use”
Man, that would’ve saved me a couple of years off of my first marriage, a considerable amount of wasted time from previous employment, and a few wasted tax returns. Now that I’m almost fifty, it leads me to say goodbye to publications that print horsecrap lies. It’s taken me a while to process this great advice, but now that I have, I can easily kick to the curb any publication that prints untruths about where I live.
I walk out of my house, and I don’t get shot at. I realize that you won’t read that about Tijuana. After all, it’s a Goddamn war zone here. Plus, I certainly have to kick she-male hookers to the curb whenever I leave my house to buy a pack of smokes and a liter of tequila. And of course, all of our children have lice here. And when we get pulled over for a simple traffic violation, it’s two days in jail and a thousand dollars.
I will take the advice of that deodorant and no longer contribute here. I will not write a story about how I can’t buy a passport. I will not write a story about how otherwise, life is swell here. No one wants to read that. It’s all about prostitutes and prison and lice. Go screw yourselves. Stay out of my country, please. I’ll write somewhere else. I'll write where people want the truth.
Junior High School was a zoo. I hated it. I remember gym class, it was the first time I met Todd Dice. Hi, Todd. Amazing we grew up and continue to live after that debacle. Remember the gym teacher’s a-hole-ish rant? Deas, Dice, Dodd. Like we needed that. I had a crush on Tony Deas’ sister, but I reckon that was obvious. Her name was Margaret. She refused to go to the 8th grade dance with me. I loved what you wrote in my yearbook, by the way. I can’t repeat in here, I’d get censored. But I love you, man, it was great advice. I gave that advice to my son when he graduated high school. He took me up on it a few years later. My grandson is living proof of that.
So anyway, the greatest piece of advice, the most stoic and relevant statement philosophically, can be found on a can of deodorant. I discovered this in junior high school, I think I was twelve. I didn’t think about it much back then, I was far too concerned with breasts and marijuana and big giant jocks with more pubic hair than I had. I think I read the words on that can of deodorant because I was too afraid of stepping into the shower with Mike Adams. Mike always treated me well, but holy crap, the guy was a jock before I ever understood what that meant. Mike Adams had hair on his chest before he was thirteen years old. Holy hell, what a Goddamn nightmare.
Todd and me, and even Tony, well, I imagine that we just read the words on the cans of our deodorant and waited for the showers to clear out. What else could we do, Todd? What else could we do? We all dreamed of screwing girls, but lacked the prerequisite pubic hair. We should’ve rented some loaner stuff from Mike. I sure as hell hope that Mike’s okay these days. He’s probably bald if he is, but I bet he had great stories to tell in high school.
This is what the can of deodorant had printed on its backside, the most relevant philosophical verbiage you’ll ever read to this day. I promise, if you follow these words, you’ll gain a boatload of wisdom. It took me up until I was thirty-something to understand this. Hope you will do so at a younger age. This is it, sit down, have a seat, think about this:
“In Case of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use”
Man, that would’ve saved me a couple of years off of my first marriage, a considerable amount of wasted time from previous employment, and a few wasted tax returns. Now that I’m almost fifty, it leads me to say goodbye to publications that print horsecrap lies. It’s taken me a while to process this great advice, but now that I have, I can easily kick to the curb any publication that prints untruths about where I live.
I walk out of my house, and I don’t get shot at. I realize that you won’t read that about Tijuana. After all, it’s a Goddamn war zone here. Plus, I certainly have to kick she-male hookers to the curb whenever I leave my house to buy a pack of smokes and a liter of tequila. And of course, all of our children have lice here. And when we get pulled over for a simple traffic violation, it’s two days in jail and a thousand dollars.
I will take the advice of that deodorant and no longer contribute here. I will not write a story about how I can’t buy a passport. I will not write a story about how otherwise, life is swell here. No one wants to read that. It’s all about prostitutes and prison and lice. Go screw yourselves. Stay out of my country, please. I’ll write somewhere else. I'll write where people want the truth.