THE BULLSHITTER

I was walking across campus today, thinking about what priorities I needed to jump on top of right away.  That thought then spilled into another completely coherent and logical thought...followed by another....and then another......and I thought "What the hell is going on?  Why am I thinking so clearly and able to comprehend any thought immediately?".  Then it dawned on me....."Holy shit it's quiet out here!".....

There wasn't a peep coming from anywhere.  There were people, but none of them were saying anything.  At first I thought this was something straight out of The Village of the Damned, or.......a village of mimes?  As it turned out, I was in no such feature film or made up location (Even though a village of mimes would be a bit entertaining.....especially at an Election Debate, like when it was time for the candidates to debate....or for the crowd to clap......never-the-less).  The problem was that I was the only person in a 2 mile radius that wasn't listening to a fucking I-pod.  Where did these martians come from?  How come I do not have one of these?  We are suddenly turning into a non-verbal culture, because of a little white cracker-shaped music box......listened to by mostly little white crackers.  Pretty soon, we will be a species that communicates through a serious of nods, dance moves, and air-guitars (which would come in handy in a war-time combats, but that's neither here nor there). 

I soon realized i'm of a dying breed.  I am one of the few and the proud that doesn't look like a special agent with the whole "white cord running from my ear to my ass".....even though most of the time, I feel (and act) like I am indeed a special agent.....(my code name is "High Chair".....wait, nope, that's my druglord name.  "Sparky Juneaux", THAT'S my special agent code name.......no wait, that's my Porn Star name.  I'll be damned...it must have been a number like " *86 " (pronounced "star eight six" in case you are one of my stupid readers).....my special agent friends call me "Agent Voicemail".)....ANYWAYS....

So what if you don't sport the white headphone and go with black, or something crazy like fierce grape?  (Wait, that's not a color, that's just the most phenomenal flavor of gatorade on earth!).  Does that make you an insurgent rebel?  Do you signal to other insurgents with some different flavor of code of nods, dance moves, and air-guitar riffs that the home team doesn't understand and can't comprehend?  Or do all of them speak the same non-speaking code, so everyone knows everyone's next move.......which makes warfare strategy outright impossible? 

This baffled me when I thought about it the first time too.  So I went and tinkered with some mind-expanding drugs out of the trunk of my Buick to clear my head.  Unfortunately I was in full-fledged druglordish "My name is High Chair, and I run this town" mode....so there really were no mind expanding drugs.....and no Buick for that matter.  I actually just grabbed a Pepsi, and got in my Ford Ranger and drove home.......

So I have an unresolved issue or two, and I can't keep on subject long enough to spell my own name, and even if I could, I seem to not know which name I am actually going by at this point.  Therefore, i'm just going to quit while i'm pretty far behind.  So until this gets figured out, I will probably go buy an I-Pod shuffle and stare at everyone like a paranoid freakshow and wait for a stray bullet to hit me in the backside.  Maybe I'll just start shooting those damn rebel insurgents before they get an open shot at me!!!!

Stealthily Yours,

The Bullshitter

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