Yuppers

Thought you
Might like to go to the show

C'mon, Alvin, this is explicitly telling you that this song is about a movie. Roger, Waters for those of you who haven't passed Floyd 101, is trying to tell us, that he's going to a movie.
But, he's in disguise:

You'll just have to claw your way through the
Disguise -

DUH! See, he's going to the movie, but back in 1979, he was so world famous that he needed a disguise.
Yes, I know, in the movie there's all this blood and such, but it's because he was going to a scary movie.
The song is about watching a movie IN THE FLESH, rather than watching it on channel 11 on a daytime Sunday.
You're such a Klingon!

Oh, and I know how you think The Thin Ice is about the very fragile nature of humanity, but once again you're wrong!
No, this is a song about Roger Waters and he's going ice skating and he runs into Christopher Walken and they start talking about that movie The Dead Zone and how he could have prevented those hockey kids from falling through the ice.
Boy! You're so 3.0!
Look, I know it hurts, but I'm one with The Waters.
Oh, I know, Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 1: it's about the loss of a father, due to his manly mission in life and how he left his child behind as a sacrifice to what seems to the boy as nothing.
AS IF!
This song is about how Mr. Roger's father goes on a business trip to a foreign country and how when he gets back, he doesn't bring back a gift for poor, young Roger.
You're such a tard, seriously.

Give me your Cheetoes, Vulcan.

K, what's next?
Oh, yeah, The Happiest Days of our Lives.

A prelude to the anger towards dogmatic, sado-masochistic teachers, right?

WRONG.

This song is soooooooo about the movie Watchers in the Woods and how....it's just not worth it anymore, with you. You're such a tard.

Look, the bottom line is: The Wall was written to represent MY life, you Orc.

Man, Alvin, you -
OH! DON'T GET ME STARTED ABOUT SARGEANT PEPPER AGAIN!

Wednesday at the McDonalds

God bless me, I love the spongey-fat proteins of a good fast food burger.
Yes, why lie; I'm fat enough to not even care anymore.
But, let me tell you of a time....oh, let's just say Wednesday, when I went to the Mac of Donalds and found that I no longer understood humanity.
Let's say humanity is a microcosm of my own stupidity.
Yes, it was a warm, sunny day and I was hungry, like a 42-year-
old woman getting out of a 9-hour taping of Oprah without a bite to eat....oh, plus she's, like 250 pounds and 4'8.
Who cares, anyway, I was fucking hungry and had a car.
There's a lot of things that my car enables me to do, that I probably shouldn't: buy drugs, porn, Senators.
But, I kid.

Upon reaching the McDonald's, I realized that I am not the only person who cares for their body like George W. Bush cares about Africans in Nigeria dying by the hundreds.
Oh, but I jest.
No....no....I don't jest....the only racism in America that is allowed is the TOTAL, UTTER IGNORANCE OF A CONTINENT THAT IS IN DIRE NEED OF HELP!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, so I was in McDonalds...
I walk in and I notice that there are four open registers, and one line.
See, I'm a veteran to Ronald's meaty-patty'd dick and I know that it works in a line for each register, rather than one siphon line towards all registers.
But, the good, fat people at Mickey Dee's didn't see it this way.
No, they had their eyes full of Dippin Dots and McBunyons -
(cue sound of record stopping)
Dippin Dots? What the fuck is this shit?
Did someone just pull this out of their ass?
What the fuck is a Dippin Dot?
Well, apparently, it's ice cream cooled to individual particles of ice cream that when tasted together taste like......................FUCKING ICE CREAM!
Fucking Dippin Dots - who needs this?
How about I start my own paper. Yes, it'll be called Dippin News and I'll just sell an entire paper BY THE FUCKING SENTENCE.
Fucking hell, I'm angry now.
Oh, well.
Anyway, back to the lines.
Yes, so I'm a veteran fat person, and I saw that these wildebeasts were choreographing a "siphon" line, which just isn't the way it works at the Issaquah McDonalds.
So, I said fuck it, and went to an open cash register behind a woman the size of Sedna.
Well, I'm soon touched on the arm by what looks like a bag of Feta coming out of a curtain of paisleys.
No, I don't have anything against fat people. And, I do believe it's more genetic than addiction or lack of care: but, fuck! I looked SKINNY in this joint.
I'm telling you, I was like Auschwitz at a Sumner Buffet.
Anywho, proceeding onward, the paisley woman declared that "Whoa, whoa, buster, you've gotta get to the end of the line."
It's just like the Chris Rock N-word routine: there's overweight people, and then there's FUCKING FAT PIECES OF HOG!
This was the latter.
I coulda picked her nose with the Sears Tower.
I politely explained the line situation to her, but she had stars in her eyes from seeing one too many triple Big Macs to even comprehend that anything relevant comes OUT of a mouth.
So, I finally gave in and went to the back of the line, hoping she would die in a gargage sale accident in Bothell.
Nine hours later, I was able to order.
"A number one."
The Martian behind the counter looked at me with the dead eyes for about a minute and then looked behind her, and yelled number one.
I guess the computers were down or GOD FUCKING HATES ME!!!!!!!
So, she tells me my order will be up in a minute and I stand there waiting for

THE CUP

Yes, I feel that every endevour should be processed in the utmost speed and getting the cup as the food is being...prepared...makes it so I can get my Coke while I wait.
Then, when the food is ready, I'm ready: no need to go get my Coke - I was swift enough to do it while you were laying lettuce and tomato on a sesame seed bun..and so forth.
But, no, she looks at me as if I crashed a party and says "Your order will be up in a minute."
Like I'm a fucking stalker!
So, I wait, and the meal is assembled and then she gives me the cup.
I ask: "You know, you coulda given me the cup while the meal was made."
She then blinks hard
Not once
Not twice
But, thrice
Then gives me the finger and tells me that I can go fuck my Coke.
The manager soon assails us and asks me what the problem is.
I tell him that I "didn't have it my way."
He then informs me that that isn't their slogan and asks just what was I doing making Duc Wong cry on her birthday?
Fucking what is the deal with birthdays? Are our lives like Monopoly and we get a free get out of pumping neurons into our brains card because we happened to be born on the day that I FUCKING COME INTO YOUR GODDAMN BURGER BODEGA?
So, I'm all polite and I say "Well, I didn't realize it was her birthday; I was just trying to explain that the lines would go a lot quicker if you gave us the cup while we - "
Then the manager with the mustache and glasses gives me the "cool out" look and explains that they are "trying (their) best to serve a large volume of customers" and where my advice is appreciated, it doesn't warrant me administrating the lines at the restaraunt.
WTF?
I looked him dead in the eye and said "VALHALLA, I'M COMING!"


Eating alone in my car, I realized that fucking people are stupid and should be exterminated from the planet.

Post haste.

Fucking people, why don't they understand me?

Peace out,
Keith Hawkins.

P.S. Throw a Japanese and/or Chinese plate on the ground for my dead homies.

P.S.S. People at MJH track - quit playing soccer, you're fucking distracting.

P.S.S.S. Someone let me know why I'm not getting surround sound from my TV via my DVD.

P.S.S.S.S. I feel tingley.

P.S.S.S.S.S. I will be posting over the weekend, due to my new computer. Please read....no, really, you're all I have....I love you.....so...so....much.....

Ha, Ha, just kidding. Fuck you, don't read. I could give a Weisberg ass.

Again,
Peace Out,
Kal Leavey