*jockoaccidente

Well Hello! You have stumbled upon my memories.The posts are from Present to Past, meaning the top one is the newest, and they flow backward chronologically. Much love, blogs rock supreme, etc.

Friday, December 24, 2004

RANT

It’s agreed. I am not a good Christian. I am not a good person. I am a fascist, yet liberal communist who would suck the unborn babies out of your sister’s womb if the devil asked me to. On principle alone I would uproot the moral foundation that our country was built upon all while allowing the UN to squander our power and national sovereignty. France is my sworn ally and I hate Poland.
I am today’s definition of a democrat. Of course I am not yet old enough to vote or hold party membership. The evil pulsing through my veins is evident though. Half of my family is Jewish (a clear giveaway) and for six months at the age of 14 I was a vegan. Enough said.

Let me explain myself though. I am a tortured soul finding solace only in repeated viewings of The Godfather and adding clippings to my Prince Harry collage. My hobbies change monthly having included splat art, knitting, punk rock, synchronized swimming, and the ever-popular world traveling. Obviously my favorite channel is HBO for the soul reason that during a Presidential Debate John Kerry joked about the Sopranos. My life revolves around dreams of genius and realities of mediocrity that I will consistently blame on my own lack of effort and/or motivation.
I am also a teenage girl. This entitles me to huge overage charges on my cell phone plan and the belief that I have a soul mate somewhere in the world waiting for me, perhaps at a side walk café in Paris (again, my allegiance with the French…). I type in Comic Sans for its sheer aesthetic value. Math class bores me and I have done less than an hour of combined community service in my entire life. Who am I to speak on who is qualified to lead the American public? On a related note, how do you answer a question beginning with who am I? Obviously I am Sunny, but still, who is Sunny to speak on who is qualified to be the leader of the free world? Even more clearly now I am Sunny who may or may not have any valid insight into who I/America/my dad/your dad/Harold Ford Jr./both of my dead Grandmothers want to be the next President. I am qualified because my founding fathers proclaimed that I should have to right to vote. Of course not me directly, being a female, but as of the year 1920 my disenfranchisement came to a halt.
Now that I have somewhat established who I am and why you should continue reading, let me ask you 4 questions that will clearly gage your value as a person.

1) Are you of white?
2) Do you like being white? (If no to above question, do you wish you were?)
3) What is your household’s level of income during one calendar year?
4) Do you feel culturally superior to everyone you meet?


First we will rate your value to America using handy spectrums that I learned about in Economics class.

VALUE TO AMERICA

Go Away We Love You

No Hispanic African-American Asian European


No Would you like me to like being white? Yes Duh.

$0 $50,000 6 figures+

No Secretly, yes Only cause I am



Now that we have assessed you value, where do you go from here? This next question is meant to be taken seriously and answered as honestly as can be expected for an averagely self-biased person.

Is this how you value people?


There, now I have asked it and we can move on because of course we all said no and meant it and its just we really are THAT great. I’d like to discuss my opinions on the difference between moral and legal. Lets do some analogies:

Death is to Killing as Dishonesty is to Power

OPEC is to the U.S. Economy as Britney Spears is to Her Own Career

Now you try!

Gay Marriage is to The Bible as
a. postitution is to Las Vegas
b. Gun Control is to the Constitution
c. Osama bin Laden is to Dead


The correct answer was B! Congratulations to the smarter ones among you. Just to err on the side of explanations I’ll explain this one. The Bible explicitly states that gay marriage is wrong just as the Constitution explicitly states that gun control is wrong. Of course right, tolerable, groovy, or any other word could also replace the word wrong.
Here is what it boils down to for me though. Gay marriage? All for it. How can love be wrong? Gun Control? All for it. How can guns be right? Forget my personal beliefs for a moment though. We live in AMERICA. We abide by the CONSTITUTION and other laws that are separate from the Bible no matter what their similarities. So if someone wants to argue gun rights in the Constitution with me, ok. However, lawmakers cannot argue, “the bible says so”, on an issue that does not concern the bible! If the Bible says gay marriage is wrong, what about those non-Christian potential brides and grooms? Should they be refused the right to marry because the majority of the nation hates getting its toes stepped on? When the KKK comes to town to throw racial insults and violent threats around they are given police protection. The passing people, most of whom are offended by this display, are forced to just move on. I believe this is fair though. Gay marriage should follow the same principles as any other freedom of practice, speech, or action that we as Americans have. Could fundamentalists not argue that people of Egyptian decent not be allowed medical care because God sent plagues upon them, and thus obviously wanted them excluded from the rest of humanity? They could technically argue this of course, but it would be unfounded, seeing that no American law discriminates against Egyptians. In fact, we even have some laws against discrimination. But I’ll save that for later.

Arkansa and Reminisence

Glycerin is a valuable aid for chapped skin.



So it goes. And then there is mediocrity. Not passionless, not empty, but not clearly here. With me unclear. Just want to scream and she makes that face and that noise and I want to imitate it and laugh and that would make me clear, but no. Unclear is all right. I’m all right.

It’s all gone back. Two years and now I have gone nowhere. Happiest months of my life. Giddy. Oh so Partridge Family and I didn’t care! No.

“She’s so goddamn peppy.”

Me?

“She just goes through life and everything’s…sunny.”

Yes.

Yes I heard you. You are a beast and he has a big nose. Good cologne only gets you so far. Ruined it for me. Thanks. Reverted back and old fucking middle school is now and then I’m still screaming. Mediocre. Yes, I am probably afraid of success. And love. And boys. And short skirts. And dancing in public. Oh me, oh Life! How I strive to be a wallflower, but Walt Whitman won’t let me. Yes I will blame it on him and then I will not have to

Peach is by far my favorite flavor. Song, Steve Miller, peach shaved ice at Liberty Land this summer and I was happy. He had tiger’s blood and the roller coaster was an exhilarating memory. Termites. Ha! I want another one. Balloon tied to my rear view mirror. Was that then? Doesn’t matter.

I wish he’d stop calling. He keeps calling and I answer. I am not 14 anymore. You taste like smoke and I hate hair gel. Stop calling.

So here we go.


“You sing like a flute.”

Thank you. Corner to corner, please follow suit. Smile.



If I was to kill myself right now I wouldn’t even though I am now 14 again and want to kill myself. Shoulder length hair. Toe nails painted black. Should I cut it off? No. I look better this way. Barbie?


NO NOT AGAIN.

Sometimes the thought of someone is your mind playing tricks on you. Sometimes you must force yourself to breathe when your stomach knots and twists and your chest fills and stops. And I’ve stopped and curled and my body is playing tricks on me. Coke? No. Hey, don’t look at me.
Triangles begin to make my eyes burn. Jumping rope makes me feel like this: pathetic and frustrated and ready to demolish and break. Broken loser. No one wants a lousy sense of humor and self-loathing hatred.
My hair is dirty from blowing in the wind. I feel sick and disgusting like a carpet stain. Repulsive. What am I talking about? I AM FINE. Corners, I’m funny.
Sometimes the words of someone play tricks on you. Your paranoia comforts you by pointing the finger elsewhere. It doesn’t work for me. Why isn’t my finger funny? Why are my attempts not recognized? Goddamn it don’t look at me.
I can take that curve at 55. Fuck the goddamn recommendation! Fuck goddamn nausea. I refuse! I REFUSE!
Money- ooos and ahhs and concepts of capitalism. The raspberry candy cane colors my tongue and sugar coats the world. Cheap is good and I feel wealthy. A dime. Hah! Circus peanuts are like settling for less, even if they cost more. I can afford both. I can smile too, after I lick the candy cane. I bite and break and consume and it is gone and I have no more wealth.

When there is no paper, you settle for plastic.

No paper in the cave. Only rock. My cuts and bruises feel good. Five and a half hours of dark and a nap in the front seat lead me to a cigarette scented room. Floral patterns. Crsipy chicken salad. Needs almonds.
Barry Manilow goes on forever and so will I if I only consume 1400 calories a day. Maybe. Maybe I could. I won’t.



Marlon Brando died.