Forgive me if I ramble off the written page but I've had it up to here with all the nonsense lately; so much in fact, that I feel like packing up my hyena and heading off to the Ozarks or someplace like it. Really, I'm so darned tired of all the "he said, she saids," and the shit-loads of grist for the rumor mills, that I wouldn't mind taking a seven year nap in the Himalayas - just to clear my head. And maybe my bank account too.
Lately, and excuse me if I speak out of turn, but my head's taken a beating not only from the tabloids and the bow-tied pundits with their fancy Harvard diplomas but also from the average Joe-blow on the street, who, encouraged by peer pressure had joined the fray and is now speaking as if he's been everywhere and seen everything, including Monica Lewinski's"Presidential Seal Of Approval." And not only that, he claims that one of his neighbors, Jim Neighbors I think, is gay and is now dating some guy who supposedly, invented the Polygraph. And if that's not enough, there's word on the street that a well-known and busty starlet is going to set up a nudist camp in downtown Anchorage. An attempt to make it resemble Las Vegas . . . Put a knee on it, dear!
And what the frock is going on with all these so-called reality shows? If this is what you call reality then the Fruit Loops I'd been eating for the last twenty years must've been laced with LSD. Confirms my theory. "It's the Fruit Loops, honey!"
And then we got The Rosie and The Donald going back and forth like two six year-olds in the schoolyard. What the hell is this world coming too - all over the news, the talk shows - Mother Mary and Joseph, give me a rest, please. And The Donald, who in all intents and purposes is surely the "epitome of arrogance" had no right denigrating The Rosie because of her weight, making comments like "She's a slob, inside and out." "I'm going take money out of her fat-ass pockets." He had done himself a dis-service. Get a frickin' grip!
Sure, we may sometimes need a diversion from the harsh realities we face day-in and day-out but put the national focus on the silly-assed dalliances of The Rosie, The Donald, the Lohan kid, The Paris and all the other camera-loving, "office water-cooler spurring" Andy Warhol acolytes is beyond reproach. Get a frickin' grip.
For those who know me know that I am a peace-loving realist whose acid-popping days went the way of the horse and carriage but let me say this: If this nonsense doesn't stop I am going to summon the cavalry and put an end to it myself. Acting like six year-olds in the schoolyard, where is the maturity? Nanya, nanya, and nanya . . .my house is bigger than yours. Nanya, nanya, and nanya . . .my house is bigger than yours. Nanya, nanya, nanya . . . Barbara doesn't like you, she only likes me. Get a frickin' grip.
You know, ever since I was exiled from Gomorrah I feel as though the world is nothing more than a giant Ouija Board . . . oh, somedays a monopoly board. One big fricking game! But it's not.
Oh brother, oh sister - I may run for President or something. Well, why not? I heard that he has a bad leg. I once ran for the Mayor. I think he had the flu or something.
By Ricky J. Fico (aka Dan Landers)
