Monday, January 13, 2014

6 feet under

sometimes death becomes her...
and sometimes it does not!
much like most of my feel'ns to give'n a rat's ass about gett'n romantically involved with any sane non heterosexual in particular...we've buried alot of very important things this past decade as a whole...

from the wonderful world of teleovision...
we lost a tough twi-lighter...a tap dance'n teacher...and a tawdry tramp

to the musical geniuses addicted to more than just their career...
from the man in the mirror...a the gal who didn't wanna go to rehab...to the woman who said it's not right...but it's ok

outside of all these familiar famous faces in the entertainment fields...
this new crop of kittens simply known as the instant oatmeal generation...who've never broken a sweat to get what they want...thanx to touch screens and downloadable apps...have lost sooo much more than just mortal stars...many many others things have fall'n off the face of the earth since they took over...

the main one bein' the art of verbal communicado...
our ancestors spent thousands of years design'n and perfect'n the verbage system into many many different flavors of communication...

but thanx to devices like the internet...call wait'n...text'n...

Helen Keller...

George Orwell's prophecy is turn'n the entire world into a huge pile of non verbal communicative paranoid mashed potatoes and take'n the brain work outta bein' human...fuck'n up millions of years of social intertaction

i think Weeza said it best when she said...
"i smiled at the son-of-a-bitch before i could help myself"
there was no misinterpretation to be had then at all...but technology has turned societies up and come'n majority into lobotomized bags of unfeel'n fucktards by turn'n this lost art into a communicational cluster fuck of alphabetically coded messages like LMAO...LOL...TTYL...WTF? that their ancestors are left to decode

but also join'n them in the graveyard is...
the VHS tape along with their plugged in pimp machine that used them til they were busted and broken...murdered by those who were too unkind to rewind...so very very young...i hope yer happy!

1-900-phone sex lines that once helped pave the careers of many...
stay at home mom's and just as many unattractive out-of-shape homo's who built their self esteem up...
 by cut-n-paste'n some tall dark built grecian piece of man flap as their own...under the pseudo name of  Dirk or Dusty...or Mr.Pus...have been replaced by...
but on the flip side...
self esteem sessions and prozac prescriptions have gone thru the roof

hot spots like B. Dalton and Borders bookstores...
that once housed the latest and greatest novels by Jackie Collins or Suzanne Somers...
 which also had their very own built in meat-n-greet conventions thru-out the midwest and beyond...are no longer with us...
thanx to amazon.com...and e-readers...now all those married suburbanites have been forced to find online love that is not to be spoken of at the dinner table and forced to travel half way across town in the middle of a cold rainy nite to some desert highway reststop to get any relief without repercussion

the hypnotize'n sounds of the constant click click click of  the cd cases...
 as you flipped thru row after row to find the latest or yer greatest musical act with KRYSTAL KLEER crystal clear quality...cover art and lyric sheets that taught you the correct pronunciations of the songs...so you didn't look like a total ass on karaoke nite...have been die'n a very slow miserable death...
thanx to these guys

what once gave us gen X'ers and those before us...
headaches after spend'n endless hours flipp'n thru the yellow pages (and i don't mean the ones that some wino wee'd on in an alleyway) try'n to decide which categories like pizza or porn were listed under...is no longer with us...
thanx to these bitches take'n the brain power outta the new kittens on the block

remember when the only way to pay yer mortgage or telephone/cable bills...
 or that babysitter off with hush money...so you could get off...just to swing yer hammer and show yer almighty power if they pissed you off by place'n a stop payment on their ass...or that elderly incontinent parent marinate'n in tea rose perfume who sent in a yearly donation of $2 to whatever charity of choice...think'n she was pay'n fer front row seats into the kingdom of Casper..
 have been all but replaced as a form of payment by these bastards or online bill pay

carpal tunnel was all the rage thru-out the ages...
thanx to all those hand written notes that once showed you cared enough to send yer deepest most inner thoughts by putt'n pen to paper and spend'n yer pocket change to purchase a stamp to prove you really cared whether it was regard'n love...sympathy or a simple "how ya been?"...
have been totally replaced by free phony forwarded messages of hope or regret on FB by people who've post the pass'n of a loved one...only to figer out if the 1000 likes were because they're sad or glad fer yer lose...and wrongcards.com 

so in conclusion kittens...though i may be age'n myself by complain'n...
about "how it used to be in the good ol' days"...by capture'n those kodak moments to last ferever...or til his cheat'n ass breaks yer heart and you rip him outta yers ferever...but there are some advantages to try'n on these generational gap jeans...especially photoshop...
now i now can always look like a fetus in a wig...or no wig at all!

now get off my dress!













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