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Vinnie The Creep

December 1st, 2011

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I want to tell you a tale about feticus… Anyway. I have been pondering what to write about, starring at the computer screen frustrated. Not knowing where to start, or why to begin. Questions coming to my mind like, what if I don’t use the proper grammar and the spell check does not correct the errors? What will they think of me? Is it P.C. to tell my reading audience that my wife’s car, our only source of transportation, completely shitted out after four years of loyal service? Rest in peace danger car.

Then I started writing this big article on Occupy Wall Street. Oh, how I was writing about the 2 month anniversary of Occupy Wall Street. And what it meant and blah. Blah. Blah. I got bored. That is sad. Especially since an event like this is right up my alley of things to do. All the elements for entertainment are there… Police brutality, anarchy, hackers, mass protest. Who can’t appreciate that? I just couldn’t see it through though. Maybe if the protesters added public suicide to the fight for economic equality, I would be more inspired to tune back in… that isn’t a request, merely an observation.  

It might not have been the movement that bored me though? Maybe I was distracted by life. The twisted reality of our situation. Fuck economic equality… Think about all the sayings we grew up hearing about money. Money is the root of all evil or the variation, the love of money is the root of all evil. Money can’t buy love. Money talks. Show me the money. My favorite, the price we have to pay for money is paid in liberty. There is a lot to be said about money, too much really. A lot of buzz behind money. People aren’t talking much about family values.

I don’t want to talk about either to be completely candid with you. I would rather talk about the lesbian inside of me. The lesbian in all of us. I could talk about how men really bring women down. Think about this, if you could take one away from the species of man, whether it be strength or the penis, you alter the entire game of dominance. A man who is strong and has a vagina would never be able to rape a woman with a penis, she would not get hard. Then on the other hand, you have a weak man with a penis getting his ass kicked by an amazonian she-hulk. It is a twisted world for the ladies.

You could consider this my first tale. A tale about a patriot… A patriot who doesn’t know what to write. A swash buckling young chap who has the world at his finger tips but would rather be a sleep. This is a tale about an alcoholic clergy man and his homeless wife who collects cats for her sculptures. It is a tale about a work force of millions across the world tired of working but too afraid to quit. It is a tale that represents the uncertainty that resides in all the inhabitants of this planet. It is a tale of me and you.

Wasn’t that a precious hallmark paragraph. The world is being taken over by toddlers and tiaras and wal-marts and people are worried about money. We are being suffocated by small taxes year after year, being bled dry in the pursuit of happiness. Blood and pleasure aren’t synonomous for me unless the setting is a pre- school. Can you say shock value?

We grew up hearing America is a melting pot, then it turned into the salad bowl. Maybe we are such a fat society because everything is a food analogy. Hey fatty, get off the food pyramid before you break it. One of the advantages to really fat kids is that kidnappings will be more difficult for the bastards who commit them. No one likes holding kids, especially kids that weigh 140 pounds. You are thinking, “Vinnie thats normal for a 15 year old and who cradles a 15 year old.” I am talking about 140 pound 5 year olds. Extra large preschool desks. Nap time with a diabetes shot and a cookie. They could have ceral box mascots named Defibulator Dandy or Type Two Toucan Sam. These are all things worth pondering.

This is a tale about a tale that once existed as a folklore before it eventually was upgraded to a day dream then eventually demoted to a children’s story but through some course of facebookery was deemed a tall tale but not before it was considered a musing and after the buzz settled was recognized as just a regular run-of-the-mill tale on myspace and twitter. I wanted to highlight my new word I just made up… facebookery. When poeple tell me of their “problems” on facebook, that is facebookery. Everyone is on facebook. I hear that shit all the time. I can’t respect any website that doesn’t let you thumbs down people’s stupid bullshit. If I get 400 likes on facebook, I’ll jerk off.

This is the tale you have been waiting for, with more tales to come. If you flip a coin, pick fucking tails. If you have any complaints send them to the web master, he is a super nice guy who can handle all of your worries. Or send your complaints to Fred Phelps, sissy. Either way, no one likes people who complain, in fact some people consider people who complain worse than offensive personalities. Statistics show that one thousand percent of the American public is weak without the sweet embrace of technology and overly offended at everything. Who would have thought?

Forgive me for any errors, I can’t waste my valuble time sweating which words may or may not be spelled wrong. Small details. Sweet dreams dear reader, I can’t wait to we meet again.


One Comment

  1. Relik says:

    I’m not on facebook…therefore, I do not exist. Thanks for bringing some laughter to my day!

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