Back From The Dead Concert::

Well, it appears to be in the shape of a Big Boy!

Good God! He's back!

Well, in many ways, the Big Boy never left, sir. He's always offered the same high-quality meals at competitive prices.




Holy.


Shit.

I'm back.

It's true. Loyal followers, unite! I have returned!

And I'm just as pissed off as I used to be!

Well, maybe not quite that pissed. It would be hard to ever really attain that level of pissed-ness again, but trust me, it's pretty close.

So where've I been? What've I been doing? What do I have to show for all this time I've been hiding away?

None of your goddamn business, that's what. And I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs.

What you should be concerned with is that I am here, and I'm, as we say in the biz, "about to be droppin' some mad siz-nience on all y'all's asses."

Except not so much today. Today I'm just going to sit back and bask in the glory of my resurrection. If I had a satanic death metal band I would totally call it Res Erection. I am totally prolific.

This is degrading into randomness. Ok, ok. I'll share a morsel of thought with you today:

I'm pretty sure I could never flat out kill somebody. I just couldn't do it. But what I could do is wish death on someone. I know, because I did. This morning.

Look we all (read: I) know that I have a sort of stigma when it comes to driving and traffic. Lets face it, they're a bitch. They're just a shitty part of life that there is virtually no way around and you have to deal it one way or another no matter who you are.

At certain points in traffic, friction with your fellow road-weary motorists is unavoidable... such as when you're trying to get off the highway while someone else is trying to get on and the on/off ramps share the same lane.

Now come on, in this situation, let's just all agree, whoever is in front should speed up, and whoever is behind should slow down, thus facilitating an easy merge for both parties. So don't be an asshole and stay just far enough behind me and to my right so that I can't get in the fucking exit lane and then go all the way to the extent of speeding up with me to stay in that position to intentionally try to fuck me into missing my exit. Douche. Because when you do that, then you make me wish that fiery, bloody and painful to the point of near death carnage befalls you at some point down the road, and I fantasize about stopping my car by where you crash and walking over to your badly burned and broken but still conscious body to give you the finger and tell you how you deserve every second of searing agony. And normally, I'm such a nice guy.

So yeah. I'm back. Whoopidee doo.

post date: August 1st, 2007