Street Knowledge (formerly) Pt. 2

Street logic is something like this: you see someone park in a handicap spot and they aren't handicapped. So, then you park in that same spot the next day and the person who parked there before you learns something about the street – that they better get to work earlier if they want that prime handicap spot.
Then you get fired for parking in a handicap spot because some guy who just had a stroke had to walk three blocks to work and has a fatal stroke on the way because you were parked in his spot, even though you weren't at work and were only parking there to make it look like you were because everyone knows you as "That guy who parks in the handicap spot."
Life on the streets is rough. I live on 56th street. That may be the hardest street in America. The kind of street where you go driving down it at 68 miles an hour because you're trying to get away from the cops because they want to ticket your car for parking in a handicap spot, and you hit some deaf kid and then you wind up in jail.
Then you go to jail and they say "You better have some street smarts", but it's totally not anything about the street you need to know. You just have to know that everyone in jail is gay and wants to rape you.
That's not street smarts. I don't know what that is, but it's definitely not smart.
Then you get out of jail and you've acquired all these new street smarts that you can't use in the real world. Like how to make really cool looking birds out of mashed potatoes and paper clips, or how to count to 1 million.
So, here I am with all these street smarts and I'm being forced to go back to school to get some diploma that says that I won't shit on the sidewalk anymore. They call it hygiene class. It sucks. I totally can't use any of my street smarts. Like how if you shit in the tank of a toilet it's called an upper decker and every time someone flushes the toilet shit goes into the bowl.
That's some street smarts right there. I learned it from a guy named "Chris."
They really got mad when I wrote a report on how to use a well-soaped dog and a cane to wash floors. Or the time I raised my hand and told the teacher that you can eat for free at 7-11, if you just wait for enough dried cheese to collect in the microwave.
But I understand the rest of the world doesn't operate on the level of smart that I do. Some people need to be told that you can teach a cat to pickpocket, whereas I just figured it out one day.
I don't know. Maybe the world is better off without my opinion, but regardless, I'm sending this entire essay with my $19.95 for one of those Snuggies. I hope you guys at the Snuggy factory use it for some good.
I mean I'm pretty sure I invented the Snuggy around nine years ago on a coke binge at Whistler Mountain when I joined that cult.
Man, that was a cool cult. I learned a lot of street knowledge from them: like how to commit suicide through prayer and how to raise the dead.
Anyway, it didn't turn out so good when I got shot in the face by the other cult members for pretending to be a God.
That's some more street knowledge for you – don’t pretend to be God. It never works out. They ask for miracles and when you finally clip your toenails no one is impressed. Even though they were super long and had stuff growing on them.
Instead they try to kill you.
And then you tell everyone they shot you in the face, but it was only with a water gun full of piss and the cult was really just a fraternity you pretended to belong to in order to get free alcohol and potato chips. Oh, plus you were like 54 and everyone knew you weren't in the frat, but you knew how to order hookers, so they kept you around.
Man, those were the days.
Like that show the Wonder Years, except I was 54 and the voice narration was really an LSD trip that I was on.