Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Now that everyone's done having a collective orgasm over war, glorious war, can we get back to chowing down on leftover barbecue?*
Serve your country by slowing the gas guzzler down. Unless it's a politician & don't worry about an alibi, I've got it, 100 minutes of mowing myriad lawns drains that nervous sweat into a black tee wrung inside the freshly-cut perfume not as alluring as the apocryphal "they" say it is, always permeating the breeze with impunity far more than necessary save today since the column of garbage marching through the field of tree lawns has refused since Friday to relinquish its duty of standing guard against freshness, already rare in a desert heat strangling 5am strolls, struck down by the funereal salt brow drowning the brain, incapacitating us of a colder bent, those glass eaters suffering their annual bout of Solstice Syndrome, nuts for the sunburst. Save us Lake Erie, save us.
*in the interest of transparency, dinner was pizza, but I'm an -ist.