Her eyes were red, moist crimson to be more exact, which by Deidrah Barker’s standards indicates at least twenty minutes of steady crying, or twenty minutes of recovering from tear gas. The skin around her nose was raw and freshly chaffed, pores exposed, on the precipice of premature gin blossoms. It’s worth the extra twenty to seventy cents to go Kleenex® or Puffs®, after all, YOLO.
Further proof of Christmas in 1999.
Christmas came and went like so many empty calories on the sweatiest day of my life. In the blink of a Korean eye, which everyone knows is a nanosecond shorter than other ethnic blinks. You know, because of the proximity of eyelids in that near perma-squint, which some racists call slants. All I’m saying is that a door half-closed shuts faster than a door wide open.
Donye 2020
In this post-truth world, nothing shocks me anymore. Fall Out Boy is looking more like Fall Out Middle Aged Man; America’s current president, Donald Trump, claims his favorite porno laser disc is allegedly Yellow Rain. All this tripe aside, I was truly provoked by the number of times I heard the word shithole last week, and that’s impressive since I lived next door to a wellness center for eight years. And now, a remix of “Supernova” by Mr. Hudson featuring Kanye West.
“You better watch out, you better not cry. You better not pout, I’m telling you why. Christmas Cow.”
The Christmas Cow brooded. It was the only logical emotional state after eight hours of uncontrollable weeping in a cage intended only to fatten him. For the first time in his short stupid existence, three years, he learned his true purpose, and it had absolutely nothing to do with spreading “spiritual” holiday cheer. Unless, of course, one achieves “spirituality” through dining on prime rib on Christmas Day. It’s a thing. In fact, take a look in the mirror; you may be a contributor.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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