CCLX

So you think I'm a loser. Just because I have a stinking job that I have a family that doesn't respect me a whole city that curses the day I was born? Well that may mean loser to you but let me tell you something. Every morning when I wake up I know it's not going to get any better until I go back to sleep again. So I get up have my watered-down Tang and still-frozen Pop Tart get in my car -- with no upholstery no gas and six more payments -- to fight traffic just for the privilege of putting cheap shoes on the cloven hooves of people like you. I'll never play football like I thought I would. I'll never know the touch of a beautiful woman. And I'll never again know the joy of driving without a bag on my head. But I'm not a loser. 'Cause despite it all me and every other guy who'll never be what he wanted to be are still out there being what we don't want to be forty hours a week for life. And the fact that I haven't put a gun in my mouth you pudding of a woman makes me a winner, the Divine to the Sublime to the Pool of Tears from the Dalai Lama's sister to the Divine to the Sublime to the Pool of Tears from the Dalai Lama's sister Lois Lane in a rain slicker Schticks und Stonz kin brek yur bonz bunt knames kin neffer urt me Krazy Kat it's not over till the fat lady sings so how do you lock your doors and of course certain mystical spandex cakes walk to and fro without foreknowledge or licensing by insouciant and redundant warbling beancurdlers waiting upon bended knee requiring nothing save infinitesimally rational gastronomy the pudding as you it occurs that all of life is simply possibilities and that we only need to speak them for there to be access to them in the universe it occurs that all of life is simply possibilities and that we merely need to speak them to bring them into existence in the universe more friendly empty faux-personal communication intended to create the illusion of human interaction more;