Monday, July 19

free for all.

that's a F*ing good word.
and i'd like to think that i fit all the applicable definitions.
it's so good, though, duders.
i was thinking about it whilst trying to roll a rock
up a no-joke serious incline.
and then again when i was rocking out my daily dose
or early morning pre-blog tea and toast, today.
saturated thoroughly, mutha-lickers.
look it up.
i mean, you know it already,
but get a little extra.
it's good for you.
city wolf, country wolf.
you know the old story-
each wants what the other has,
but secretly is super lucky for what they've already got.
yes, yes, y'all-
of course,
in the real course of events,
the city wolf gets trapped up and skinned for being a nuisance,
and only pretendians and biker-types get busy with the rural wolf.
and ranchers, however jolly in other circumstances, shoot 'em all on sight.
didn't you guys ever see that cartoon?
you KNOW;
it's all trading places, an' that.
that's well and good, if you're an A*hole.
city folks are all on vacation up here,
ruining the sh!t out of it with traffic-jamming lines
outside of dunkin' doo-doonuts
and fatback fast-food F*tardation.
no big surprises, really.
tourists aren't dope.
and they can keep their sh!tty cities, too.
i'm sayin',
late-night restaurants and public transportation are poor substitutes
for the non-stop hottness of snail's-paced mountain living.
real life, real-real.
city people still only go to ten.
no matter how loud or hard they try to take it....
that little something extra that they're missing?
it could be Folk Life (and Liberty)
this here rural wherewithal-within-and-without werewolf,
and by that i mean yours truly,
is super lucky for the woodsly goodness i'm surrounded by.
and all the bikers and ranchers and city-dwellers can suckle it.
that's no joke.
i'm home again, home again, jiggety-jig, b!tches.
it's already monday.
that means i've got a whole weekend's worth
of happy hunting ahead of me.
hunting rocks.
there's not much of a fight once you catch 'em,
but dang if the can't hide better'n' any big game out there.
i'd mount one on my wall, i suppose,
if i had a plaque sturdy enough.
they'll have to settle for a display of my prowess
in the garden, surrounded by flowers.
that's lauds and lauds of accolades, yeah?
oh, c'mon.
steep, ninjas.
my driveway, my tattoo prices, my morning beverage.
and everything else too;
never quiet, never soft.....

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