Shake Hands With
Beef! June 9, 2006 I was watching cartoons with the kinder the other day, and during the commercial break, there was a Kool-Aid commercial. In the ad, kids were skateboarding and working up a thirst, and suddenly out of nowhere, the KOOL AID MAN popped up to the rescue. However, this wasn't the Kool Aid Man of MY youth. He was wearing surfing shorts, and he didn't break through a wall bearing refreshment. What the fuck?!? I guess violently smashing out walls in the nude to pleasure children is frowned upon during this day and age, and might warrant a visit from the CSI Team. Yes once again, I see David Caruso standing over the crime scene, proclaiming "this child wasn't crushed by falling rubble, but rather by a simple kiwi-strawberry drink laced with poisonous oversized pitcher-man semen." How would you handcuff the Kool-Aid Man anyway?? And here's yet another beef as a bicycling commuter in North Dallas. I can safely say that the drivers around here are some of the most oblivious, one-sighted, cell phone yakkingest wankers in the history of man, ignorant to anything that isn't a car or a roadsign. Holy Christmas!…on my morning ride to work as I peer into the windows of cars, I see more faulty douchebags than a shift worker that doubled back at the Massengill factory on the weekend before prom season. And I know that any one of these one-eyed java slurpers would gladly run me down in cold blood to shave a second or two off of their commute. Someday I'll go missing, and a week later in a crosswalk near Central Expressway, yet again David Caruso and the CSI team will find my wedding ring and a bunch of random bicycle parts smashed flat, powdered with a fine coating of my DNA...Caruso will clutch the inner rear gear in his palm, close his eyes and ask "Why did this happen!!!" And in the meantime some soulless cockmaster that ran me down driving an SUV will get a gold star from his boss for a $20 gift certificate at Applebee's. At least I didn't die in vain, but for some fried mushrooms served with a zesty Ranch dipping sauce. That can be my epitaph. This is brief, but I have the Mavericks in the Finals and a lot of shit that needs…no MUST be laid down upon a lot of doucheclods trying to sound legit about hoops around the water cooler. I'm going to have to go super kung-fu on them and pull out their heart and show it to their face before they die. I'm the devil's advocate these days pimping Shaq as an unstoppable force, but in my heart of hearts, I say Mavs in 6. But nobody else needs to know that. Cheers, Hot Rod Hundley |
