The Road to the SuperBowl
20 nuclearly-hot chicken wings, a case of Bud, half a gram of Bolivian flake, two blunts of NYC Ice, and a 20-mg Vicodin for dessert – put on the big screen with the volume turned to zero, crank Helmet to 11 on the stereo, and I’m ready for some motherfuckin’ football. Not that I really give a shit one way or the other who wins (I tend to tune out once the Cowboys hang it up) but something about watching giant violent men beating each other senseless for sport while I’m completely twisted off on drugs seems so… I don’t know, American. And I don’t mean American in the geographical of-course-you’re-an-American-you-were-born-here-dipshit sense. I mean American in the kill-em-all-and-let-the-replay-sort-it-out sense. American the way war and hubris and arrogance and greed are American. Not that we got the market cornered on greed or hubris or violence but we can definitely fuck some shit up for you if you think you might need some shit fucked up. Hell, we’ll even go to the cradle of goddam civilization and bring some pee down to bear there. Won’t even look back, just lock and load, light’em up let’s move out, third and long end around touchdown, God is on our side, how can we be wrong? That’s our style, if we have a style. Shit, you can’t stop the machine. Only thing to do is keep it greased with the blood of the willing and make sure it don’t come unplugged. Football as metaphor is as played out as metaphors are in general but that don’t mean I can’t feel a rush of patriotic pride when I hear some teenage Nashville queen working her way through the Star Spangled Banner and then watch those monsters go at it. I love this fucking country.
So, my bro’s down in New Orleans building FEMA trailers for the reconstruction effort and he says it’s the new Gold Rush – they’re handing out contracts fast as they can. Build it, raze it, haul it, bring it – you got the want-to, they got the bread. He went down with a friend of his a coupla weeks ago with two pick-up trucks, a flatbed trailer, and a fifth wheel. They got some kinda fourth-generation subcontract to frame houses and they were doing two a day, making good money. Now they got a crew of 15 guys and a contract to build 20 trailers a day for a grand per. How’s that for some boot-strappin’? On a personal level, I’m happy as hell for my bro ‘cuz he’s never been anything close to rich and he’s as good a guy as I’ve ever met and his family could sure use the money. On a more objective level, I can’t help wondering who’s getting screwed on this deal. ‘Cause you know if Hally-burton’s got their paws on the project, it’s as crooked as the Mississippi is long. For every good ol’ boy like my brother making his, you know there’s some poor schmuck out there with Uncle Sam’s fist in his ass. Maybe I’m jaded but I haven’t seen anything decent or humanitarian from any of these government contract fuckers yet. I know one day we’ll wake up and the whole city of New Orleans will just be one gigantic casino and all the employees will be Hally-burton foreign nationals making 2 bucks a day and ol’ Ima Dick Cheney can just leave behind the mess in D.C. and go down to the Big Easy and get his old job back. Maybe he’ll even start some kind of employment opportunity PR thing for Iraq vets. “You havin’ trouble dealin’? Hell, we’ll teach you how to deal… and valet park.”
Went out with some bros of mine the other night and we got all fucked up. Jameson shots and Bud longnecks – too many to count and who counts that shit anyway? We stumbled out of our local Bucktown watering hole at 4 in the a.m. and the last thing I remember hearing is “Aw, hell, fuck the rest of ‘em. American Short-Timer’s the best thing I’ve read out of Iraq since the fuckin’ thing started…” Woke up the next day with my head in the vise, happy as shit I got the kind of friends who like to get drunk and talk about AST. Makes me feel kinda sorry for those that don’t…
So, my bro’s down in New Orleans building FEMA trailers for the reconstruction effort and he says it’s the new Gold Rush – they’re handing out contracts fast as they can. Build it, raze it, haul it, bring it – you got the want-to, they got the bread. He went down with a friend of his a coupla weeks ago with two pick-up trucks, a flatbed trailer, and a fifth wheel. They got some kinda fourth-generation subcontract to frame houses and they were doing two a day, making good money. Now they got a crew of 15 guys and a contract to build 20 trailers a day for a grand per. How’s that for some boot-strappin’? On a personal level, I’m happy as hell for my bro ‘cuz he’s never been anything close to rich and he’s as good a guy as I’ve ever met and his family could sure use the money. On a more objective level, I can’t help wondering who’s getting screwed on this deal. ‘Cause you know if Hally-burton’s got their paws on the project, it’s as crooked as the Mississippi is long. For every good ol’ boy like my brother making his, you know there’s some poor schmuck out there with Uncle Sam’s fist in his ass. Maybe I’m jaded but I haven’t seen anything decent or humanitarian from any of these government contract fuckers yet. I know one day we’ll wake up and the whole city of New Orleans will just be one gigantic casino and all the employees will be Hally-burton foreign nationals making 2 bucks a day and ol’ Ima Dick Cheney can just leave behind the mess in D.C. and go down to the Big Easy and get his old job back. Maybe he’ll even start some kind of employment opportunity PR thing for Iraq vets. “You havin’ trouble dealin’? Hell, we’ll teach you how to deal… and valet park.”
Went out with some bros of mine the other night and we got all fucked up. Jameson shots and Bud longnecks – too many to count and who counts that shit anyway? We stumbled out of our local Bucktown watering hole at 4 in the a.m. and the last thing I remember hearing is “Aw, hell, fuck the rest of ‘em. American Short-Timer’s the best thing I’ve read out of Iraq since the fuckin’ thing started…” Woke up the next day with my head in the vise, happy as shit I got the kind of friends who like to get drunk and talk about AST. Makes me feel kinda sorry for those that don’t…
posted by Guts at 6:42 PM
1 Comments:
You guyz are crackin' me up. Tell you this though Guts. From what I've seen of your writing so far you're no second fiddle to anyone. Do your thing baby. This shit is GOLDEN. Thx for layin' on the booze though and keeping us in your thoughts. That alone was worhth the price of admission. Or maybe not.... ah fuck it.
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