Thursday, May 13, 2004


there is no sex in my violence.

dear guy who stole my bike seat,

it was good of you to leave your really crappy trek seat in place of my really awesome gary fischer one. it has just the right amount of aesthetically pleasing rust on it, lending my bike a quaint redneck credibility.

but, guy who stole my bike seat, i did not desire you to make this trade. i liked my seat just fine, though, i understand you were selflessly considering my best interests. and for that i thank you. but, without your help, my efforts to embody that which is a red-neck have been entirely successful due to my firm commitment to the fostering of a warm home for cars on cinder-blocks, dead refrigerators with cats nesting in them, and brown christmas trees in june.

in short, though i appreciate your efforts to further cultivate my inner redneck, i am not at this time in need of your services. therefore, i stole back my bike seat yesterday.

in truth you have taught me much about the inherent stupidity of the southeastern united states redneck. no other anthropological group i have yet observed has displayed the brazen contempt for common sense that is a hallmark of your kind. i find it truly fascinating that you would steal my bike seat, replace it with your own, and then continue to park your bicycle at the same bike rack as i do every day.

now that i have both seats in my possession, i will take great pleasure in imagining you biking home with a rod up your ass. if god is good and is a loving god and if that god should find favor in me and shine his light upon me therein, perhaps he will allow me to witness this spectacle first-hand. if god is the angry vengeful god i keep hearing about, he should be totally down with this.

in closing, karma's a bitch.

love, me.


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