Tuesday, November 30, 1993

Journal entry for 11-30-93

 

11-30-93 thru 12-3-93 I go to city Friday take unx to the airport, then he’ll be all gone bye bye.


Pot Proverb

 

11-30-93 The hand of the cultivator is full of weed, while the hand of the non-horticulturally inclined scratches after stems.

YER STEWPID

 

Monday, November 29, 1993

Pissed at Earl

11-29-93 Did I say I have to report in now? Did I? Well, fuck you, Sergeant or whatever the fuck. So, now I’ve done it. Can’t believe I was sooo naïve but now I’m sure as fuck gonna buy me a gun and kill all the niggers I see. That’s a joke, son. We don’t call 'em niggers. No, sir. No, we don’t even call 'em “'em,” on account of that’s differentiating or de-ussifying, yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, fuck Earl, then, how about that? No need to be a racist when there’s so many reasons to hate people on an individual basis. I don’t hate that wuss behind your back little sniper, I simply pity the fool, and I will hurt any man who tries to take what I got. C-I-L-L. Sing me a song, you’re a singer.


 

Friday, November 26, 1993

Road Rage

11-26-93 So. I hope I’m not too late. I’m getting irate, sitting behind this big diesel belching smoke fucker of a truck drivin’ son of a bitch. Get out of that cab you asshole, I swear to God I’ll fucken do you right here. Do you hear me?! Shitbag! I’ll…


Sloppy Jack

11-26-93 You hoo! Sloppy Jack, here. I got my gut bag all bundled up and I’m ready to hop in my Ferrari and hope, just hope I can make it to the Waste Treatment plant before it’s too late. You see, last night I flushed something that should never have been flushed down any toilet anywhere. I had no business drinking that plutonium solution the night before either, but now it was all water under the bridge so to speak.