Father's Day is a money maker, but in no way a generator like Mother's. Fuckers they are, Hallmark and their kindred ilk. But America is as vacuous as a set of balloon tit implants, which 6.8% or so of women here are sporting. Plastic surgeons, who do this kind of surgery, should fill the bags with helium so that the ladies could float to the ceiling during balls and festivals. But the digression stops here.
Days like these Days are in the main bullshit. They almost always come up lame... because...
- money or the lack thereof is apparent
- shortcomings take center stage
- the older people are always older than remembered
- the younger people are burdened with the need to carry the load
- the kids are rambunctious and attitudinal without video
- the roads are more crowded
- restaurants and other public amusements are expensive and gouging
- often many of the celebrants are dead or dying, casting a pall of gloom
- alcohol is more abundant, loosening tongues
- people fuck less as a result of the Day's distractions and stresses
- incontinence is problematic
The police or as they are named in other places, the gendarmes or the pigs or the law, are closing down the Park at 10 PM (scusi, the Park normally closes at 10:30.) Patrols are going to be increased and pensions will swell consequent to the overtime. Alcohol is being blamed as the etiology of this west coast mayhem. High testosterone levels coupled with boredom and lack of responsibility might be things Mainers might cite as contributing factors. Maine is a buttoned up place. Harumph!
Costco is a discount come-on mega store offering fools the opportunity to buy mass quantities of shit on sale. Funny how folks will make purchases for stuff they really don't need if it is perceived as a bargain. But without this kind of tomfoolery where would garage sales get inventory? And Costco is the site of the Mix Murder. That is this Day's other story of shame.
Robert Mix, 81, whose name could have been Bucky, was found dazed and down on the Redding CA Costco tarmac after he had a physical altercation with 70 year old Gerry Carpenter. Just to be thorough, the respective middle names of these combatants are Leonard and Eugene. These are monikers which must have made the fathers of these modern day gladiators proud. And, after all, this is Father's Day.
Mix-master was sitting in his pickup waiting for a parking space to be vacated. He was clogging up the flow of traffic as others circled like sharks to make a kill in the mouth agape shopping whore store. Carps brushed the arm of the awaiting octogenarian, prompting him to move on. One thing led to another (Mix's cane was a factor which should mitigate the murder charge) and a fatal head injury was meted out by the younger man. Were these fight-to-the-death men Dads? Yikes.
This is America. At this point, the echoes of America the Beautiful should be resignating (sic) between the ears of anyone who would have bothered to read this blog. Indeed it is Father's Day. Not a day to live in infamy, but rather a day of resplendent joy, a day to frame the notion of sperm run amok. Amok is the operative word.
Both tales are amok-ish. It is hard to imagine events such as these happening HERE. Mogudishu yes, the USA noooooo... But the truth is the talisman of reality. And so on this Day of reflection of daddy values, a step back is in order. Be careful, the dog just dumped (doo) behind you...
Gift 4 Dad...???