You ever walk out of your apt and the heat just strangles you?
Perhaps it’s late in the A.M. and you go out to move your car and the heat just surrounds you, suffocating you. Walk down the street and the pigeon shit smells worse then the piles of garbage left in stacks, rotting in the summer sun.
In this fine metropolis summer doesn’t have the same appeal it does when you’re laid up at some five-star yuppie compound out in the Hamptons. They sit all tucked in to their khaki shorts and $200 boat shoes; they are probably more expensive then that. Here, I set out early, like 10 to 6 in the morning early. This way I avoid the bewildered herd, the assholes and jerk-offs. I strap on my headphones put on my sunglasses and wait for her to come in on the train.
After I see her, it’s all down hill.
She stands in the same fucking place, in the same fucking car, everyday. She is alone in her arrogance, behind her own set of shades and plugged in to God knows what. It’s better that I don’t know because she might have bad taste in music.
Back to the garbage piles and New York City. It is pretty funny how Bloomy is going after fat assholes and smokers. Everyday, there is some new jerk-off proposal for some new way to trim down on everyone’s sugar intake — never mind the deficit, debt or the budget. Let’s get these fat fucks and smokers.
It’s actually not about sugar at all; its about personal freedom. Your rights are being treaded on here people!!!! Do any of you know what it was like back in the ’90s on the Lower East Side?? Much less, God forbid, the ’80s??
It was an oasis, a place where you could lose yourself and escape the everyday. You could do whatever you wanted to do. A place where one could be inspired to do so many things. One could walk right across the park and within, say, 15 minutes get any drug they wanted. And the best part about it was that if you knew the right bar, you could go get off, right fucking there, right on the bar. A pint of ale, a killer jukebox and in air-conditioning. Mmmmm. Pretty good on a nice summer day.
Not anymore. Now we have suits making fucking rules about smoking in bars, outside of bars, parks and Jesus fuckin Christ — Beaches!!! With that comes the war on sugar and the war on obesity. Forget the war on terror, the war on drugs. The Mexican violence is getting severe, headless bodies are turning up on highways, parks, neighborhood streets and they are turning up in bulk.
Here, in this fine city, one of the richest, we are writing tickets for cigarettes and spending money trying to pass laws on sugar and the size of a soda! Who do you think arms these bastards below the border??? What do you think those fuckers are fighting for down there? The blood wars, the turf wars, and the dreams they dream as children? The almighty dollar…the U.S. appetite for drugs is ferocious at its least.
There are entire towns ravaged by meth. People smuggling coke up their ass for Americans of all ages to enjoy, stretch out their pay-to-play parties for an extra day or two. In fact, next time you go out and find yourself snorting, smoking, sucking, shooting or drinking a soda, think about what is going into those things that get you off. Another thought — what they are taking away from you at the same time?