So Long Spring

Welp.

It's just about summer and you regular readers of my stuff know what that means. Yeah. I'm going to have to beat down those mole men in the backyard again. Man! Am I ever tired of that whole scene! It just never fucking ends!

You know, once I found out what a total sham voting is I should have just kept my mouth shut. Not me though, not fucking me. I was so filled with that ass-holy-ness that's better known as righteous indignation that I actually called the government to bitch about it. Have I ever told you that story? Maybe I haven't. I don't remember if I have. Come to think, maybe you're new here so I'll drag that old chestnut out for another spin. Forgive me if you've heard it already and feel free to skip ahead if you'd rather. It's not going to kill me if you do so, whatever. Know what I mean?

So I call the government. It's not very hard to do, anyone can. You just have to know what to Google to find the number, right? I'm pretty sure a lot of you can figure it out on your own. So I call and this voice asks me what I want and I start screaming about what a lame ass scam voting is and how I never will again because all politicians are jag offs and if I had to pay to vote I'd want my goddamn money back and fuck this and fuck that and fuck you too, sister. Really letting it rip. And she says can I hold on for a moment and she puts me on hold.

I fire up an ultra-light 100 and do another shot of spiced rum and I'm sitting there wondering when the guys with the high powered rifles with the silencers are going to show up and pick my ass off through the window. On the news it'd be reported as one of those drive bys or whatever and boo hoo hoo, time for my funeral and some shoulder shrugging and who'd give a wet fart anyway?

So she gets back on the line and says that she checked with her supervisor and that I have two choices. Either a plain white van is going to pull up and I'll be shot with a high powered rifle through the window or I can make a deal. So I go what kind of deal are we talking about here? You know, like, is there a lot of math involved or what?

She says that it's cool if I never vote again but if I tell other people what a crock of shit that whole school yard game is other people will stop voting and then they'll start thinking for themselves and stop watching hit TV shows and giving a good goddamn about 'Scrubs' and total wankers like Celine Dion and whoever wins 'American Idol' (no matter what a babe Kelly is or how hot Carrie looks in a real tight T-shirt) and then they'll stop buying big ass cars that they don't really need and they'll realize how fucking stupid caring about empty headed junk like this whole bling bullshit is and the economy will collapse and where the fuck am I gonna get my spiced rum from then, thank you very much. At this point I see her point and I say I'd like to deal, please. And if you'd like a cherry on top I could arrange that for you real easy-like. I'm nothing if I'm not polite in a crunch. It's the romantic in me.

Anyway, she says seeing as to how the government is going to spare my life I'll have to do a favor in return. I say it sounds fair to me which is exactly the wrong mother fucking thing to say for sure.

So I hang up and keep drinking and screaming along with old Alice Cooper songs and watching "The Brain That Wouldn't Die" for about the eighty first time and the next morning or maybe the evening after that I've forgotten the whole thing. Which is yet another mistake in an entire life that's chock full of huge ass mistakes, believe me, you.

About nine months later a guy in a dark suit with a clipboard shows up and has me sign in ink at the bottom. I'm a fucking moron so I sign. I was also pretty well hung-over because... well, I'm an American, and it's one of my rights since I was born here and all of that shit you see in the movies and in those old books about history. It might have even been a question on "Jeopardy" once or twice but I'm not gonna swear to it.

As it turns out the government knew about these mole men that were going to show up and my part of the deal was having them sent to my house and now I have to deal with them every summer for the rest of my life. Even if I move they'll just have them go there. So I'm stuck and it sucks and you can write the second verse yourself so, like I said before, it never fucking ends.

In fact I was going to wrap this up with a real cool story about how one night Drew Barrymore, Melissa Joan Hart, and Avril Levine gang sucked me while Jennifer Tilly made me eat her nipples and kept calling me daddy but I hear a scratching noise outside so I have to get a flashlight and a rake and go kick some mole man ass.

It never ends, man.

It just never fucking ends.