marsupial.

if you eat kangaroo,
and you aren't crocodile dundee,
you are suspect.
questionable.
if you used to be vegan,
and now you get down on 'roo tail steaks?
you are definitely Off The List.
the price of success, i guess.
money never made a man, ninjas.
but,
it has definitely changed one or two.
don't misunderstand me-
i make money, too,
and it has certainly changed me.
the thing is,
i don't have lots of money.
i have just about enough to stay still.
i'm not gettin' swole up movie-check pockets,
but i'm not dipping below the dangerzone redline, either.
i'm living precisely at my means.
that's a thin line of tightwad tightrope walking,
but i keep it balanced,
i keep it fair,
i keep it even,
and most of all, i keep it real.
that's a thing.
but i'm talking more specifically about the selfishness
that an abundance of eminence,
and the resultant prosperity that comes along with it, brings.
selfishness?
duders, c'mon.
it's easy to forget being a dumpster-diving
vegan punk rock radical made of compassion and idealism,
when you've got a guaranteed income
cut heavily from the fat off of scatophagic sycophants
who seek to supplement your scene and psyche for years to come.
you turn into something else.
it's inevitable.
ask any group of hold-out poutypants turned sell-out lootmakers.
(baby boomers, anyone?)
all i'm sayin' is:
foundational beliefs shouldn't be so easily shaken.
and marsupials?
grosser than veal calves.
grosser than Filipino balut eggs.
fuzzy, external womb, pink-raisin-baby dinosaur mammals?
c'mon.
that's the transition?
used-to-be's.
those're my favorite ones.
i used-to-be ____.
if you're not now, you never were.
now that's a hard style, huh?
you bet.
*
i never understood the conscience behind
free-range organic dead animal parts, duders.
like,
if you treat 'em good before you kill 'em, then it's okay.
i don't care how nicely fed and cared for they were up until
the ol' sledgehammer-to-the-face moment.
c'mon.
or how large the farm they roamed was,
before they slit their necks with an X in a tiny room.
the dopest jail is still jail.
a free college degree on death row is no consolation
when it's finally lethal injection day, right?
word.
spending extra loot to eliminate pesticides and hormones
doesn't change the fact that the animal was super-duper healthy
up until it's decomposing, dismembered carcass got heated up
to start rotting in your A*-hole.
suckle the protein, b!tches, and eat a bean.
just sayin'.
*
kind of like being vegan just to win.
you know who you are.
duders,
i don't get that either.
i know a guy who'd totally watch me eat a bevy of baby beasts,
and not even try to stop the senseless swallowing whole
of all the cutest and the fuzziest of furry friends,
just for the priviledge of being so much more vegan,
so much harder than me.
the dead animals are completely irrelevant.
why be vegan then?
to lord it over everyone else.
winning a competition no one else knew they were entered in.
almost makes me want to gnosh a wombat omelet,
and forfeit the contest.
....almost.
***********
there's no more nights.
tonight's the last one.
and that's no lie.
tomorrow,
in the snow,
it'll be downsouth driving,
and daughterly delivery,
to the doo-doo buttery depths
of the constitution state.
the state of my constitution?
compromised.
but in the meantime....
it's broccoli bread time!
small victories and big hunks of treats.
lucky us.
cyle and casey and cucch,
plus harvest and maple,
and my most lovely and delightful wifely hottness.
i'm surrounded on all sides,
including the inside,
and that's where and what counts;
never quiet, never soft.....