I have read several books during the past couple weeks, most of which were miserable, however; they did inspire me to write a couple stories. Hopefully by next weekend I will have them ready for public consumption, and then each of you can critique my prose that very well could be poetry.
Looks like I am actually heading to the Kentucky Derby this year, at least for Friday night and Saturday evening. Sadly, I have an auction on Sunday which I will probably end up missing do to a combination of factors. I have to fly to make the derby and also be home in time for the auction, at least in theory. I hated flying before the Arabs Gone Wild tapes surfaced, so one can only imagine how I feel about it now. Copious amounts of drugs will facilitate my stepping onto the plane, thereupon blacking out into sweet, sweet oblivion. This will not be a problem when I leave on Friday, as the stop over allows more then enough time to switch flights, especially when one considers the note I will tape to my chest giving exact details as to where I need to be next. The real issue is the flight home. Even though a friend of mine, who hails from Louisville, stated that it should be no problem to catch a 9:30 pm flight on Saturday, I have my doubts. First and foremost this friend is stupid and also extremely jealous of Bob. Ok one of those statements is false; regardless I am pretty sure that Bob won't make the flight. That is of course assuming he even attempts to take it. Since, I, Bob will be intoxicated there is no telling what might occur. Instead of flying home, earning $300.00 and most importantly maintaining what little love my parents have left for me, I may spend the evening ogling a busty waitress way out of my league and giving her tons of tip money for smiling in my direction. But, what would happen if I did make the flight, because the airlines have never witnessed the awesome presence that is drunken Bob.
Would they even let me on the flight? Or, would I deem the aircraft secure enough to fly? The first answer is easy of course they would let me fly after an obligatory strip search and anal probe since I fit the terrorist profile so perfectly. The fat white male is definitely the one who is seeking to overthrow the Western world. During the time they spend on my search I can very well imagine the several dozen Arabs they let by who are speaking in foreign tongues, pointing excitedly at the plane and making a boom-boom noise. Which is exactly why the second answer would be no, no, no god damn way would drunken Bob feel the flight is in anyway secure. Any sort of non-English chatter would be cause enough for alarm and alcohol induced paranoia to set in. Those Latinos seem like an unreasonable bunch and apparently they are taking over America, who is to say they aren't ready to fast track their domination and join forces with Al Queda. Seriously that could happen, but probably not. In fact I am suspicious of even non-native speaking person on a flight, especially those who aren't snow white. Is that racist? God, I hope so but only in a good way. My theory is that the only Muslim whom I trust is the white English speaking one who has no accent whatsoever. Since there are about five of those in the world you can see why I am pretty apprehensive about them as a whole.
Maybe I should take a cab.
Go to Hell
(White Man Disclaimer)
The above statement in no way reflects the thoughts and feelings of the Caucasian world. We have long since given up any hopes for survival and hope, at best, to be assimilated by other races and cultures. So please don't blow us up because Bob is a fat bastard.