Friday, January 28, 2005

american idle

mr. x is pooping in his own seat.

the kind of person who ought to be put in a novel. the kind of man who deserves being crucified in a jumble of words. the kind of man you wouldn't waste your time lambasting in person. he'd rather be degraded in a pad of bond papers (or in an empty microsoft word document) than drain your oral fluids and get nothing.

he exists everywhere. scattered like a pile of dogshit run over by a 4x4 sport utility vehicle.

he's not an american, chose to be, but could never be one.

america exists only in his dreams. in his fantasies. in his environs. he pretends. that what makes him happy.

he thrives on his own arrogance. he claims such-and-such, bragging this-and-that, but that's all he could do.

he acts as if he is the leader of the pack, but what a leader does, is a vacuum in his leadership. he is dependent of his pack. he freezes in hot summer. he still freezes in winter. he never moves. he is lethargy in every sense of the word. he is the definition of laziness.

i pity the man because he is unaware of his doings.

but i thank him...

...gave me an idea to write.

latest musing of Etchie at 20:17