The Fuckshit Chronicles

Hey peoples, what's good? I'm still at my muddafuckin' job, doing muddafuckin' everything I can do to leave, to no avail. In the process, I've fucked around and stayed up until I have to do a massive project, a project that involves a great deal of public involvement. And I have to coordinate the level of public involvement.

If you haven't figured it out, Satan's Anus is full of bastards and bitches who know everything. Deez muddafuckas always have something to say. So you give them a forum and the time to say everything they want to say, and then when it's time to vote on the approval/disapproval of a proposal, they'll claim they weren't given enough time to say what they wanted to say. That's even if THEIR POINT OF VIEW WINS!!! That's that ol' fuckshit right there.

So I have to spend my summer doing public input sessions for 72,000 people (much less than that really because as a college town, 25,000 of those people are students). Now that doesn't seem like a lot, and in most instances it's not. I worked for the City of Detroit, and we did public input for 1,000,000 people.

Let me tell you it was much less hassle than doing it for THESE 72,000 fuckers. Reason being, Detroit is overwhelmingly Black. Black people have different jobs. They are fucking exhausted from working to make other people's lives easier than to talk all fucking night at a meeting. Unless I'm out there proposing to build a fucking freeway on top of their house, they ain't comin' out. They are resting up for the next day. Another thing is culturally, we're really not trying to prove to anybody how fucking brainy we are. These meetings become a source of intellectual one-upsmanship in the community. Each bastard trying to bring up a heretofore overlooked fact, much more salient that any other fact presented. Africans come out to tell you fuck what you think and they sit back down. No explanation of why you suck, just that you suck. I'm all for that brevity.

My first public input meeting as a staff member in the City of Detroit consisted of telling a room of 450 people that we were planning to build new houses in their neighborhood. I got threatened, berated, dissed, called out, and basically told to sit the fuck down. That one meeting was more fulfilling and meaningful than the hundreds of meetings I've attended as a Satan's Anus employee, because they cut to the fucking chase and didn't waste my time with all that fuckshit. That's all I'm saying.

Peace,
KZ

Everybody's Turned Bitch

It's a sad day in Black America. Today I just about had it and was about to flat out quit Facebook. It seems like everytime I get a status update from one of my male friends, they are doing the most bitch assed shit in the world. I'm talking about cats that come from some of the roughest circumstances in the roughest hoods going, talking about "Off to get my poodle a trim" or "Picking daisies with my oldest son". This shit is disheartening. I'm not much better. "I'm headed to yoga class" or "I miss my sweetie". That's some old bullshit. My father's got skin made of steel. My mother is notorious for being hardcore. And I'm out here shitting on the family reputation.

We're all victims of our relative success. When you see and experience nice shit, you tend to gravitate to it. So when my boy sends a status update like "I just finished baking popovers", I guess that African just wanted some fucking popovers, as bitch like as that may be. Who am I to judge?

I just can't keep reading this shit. Cats with a real rooting interest in "Sunday's Best", muthafuckers grabbing their snacks gearing up for a new episode of "Grey's Anatomy" or about to settle down with the latest issue of "Cat Fancy". I think I'm legitimately going to opt out and stick to this blog.

Peace,
KZ

Demitasse

I'm sitting at work, waiting for the secretaries to leave. It's a daily ritual. I wait so that I don't have to see them or talk to them as I walk out of the lobby. They are, for lack or desire to find a more polite term, stupid. I don't like making small talk about them having a nice evening. I hope they have a fucking horrible evening, because once again, they've made my day hellish.

"Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up" is the silent mantra I have on repeat in my head as they darken my doorstep with another stupid inquiry, missive, or joke they'd like to share. "Fuck y'all" I quietly whisper as I walk past to go to the restroom or another endless meeting.

As stupid and useless as I think they are, I save the most venom for HR, who are clueless and feeble-minded. The "experts" in all things in regards to hiring, benefits, and "the rules", still inevitably call me six to seven times a day to ask me what to do next about any situation involving one of my staff. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do next? That's why I sent them to you! Everyday is an episode of "Life Goes On" and I'm getting called by "Corky" every two fucking minutes.

That's all I got.

Peace,
KZ

Profundity

There are no words more fun to say in the English language than "haywire" and "firearm". I don't know if it's the compound word aspect or what, but damn I love saying them.

You know that line in Forrest Gump where he says "Life is like a box of chocolates..."? Well if you replace the word "chocolates" with "pussies", you can pretty much leave me alone with that box.

What does it say about me that I'd feel like a bigger pervert going into a Hooters under the cover of darkness than I would walking into the freakiest hardcore sex shop in broad daylight?

Why doesn't anyone understand that if your boss was as good as your job as you are, they would have NEVER promoted him/her? If you're too good at what you do, you're pretty much fucked. You gotta be passable.

Conservative = unapologetic bigot/white supremacist (regardless of their color), Liberal = undercover racist/condescending asshole, Libertarian = anarchist cheapskate except when it comes to roads leading to his subdivision and police protection for his family, Progressive = hippie goofball with too much fucking free time. This is why I hate labels. I think most of us are a healthy mix of all these archetypes.


Right now, I have a womanly addiction to shoe shopping that I'm not proud of.

Best bumpersticker I've seen in my whole life: "Illegal Shit B Fun".

KZ

Hot Pickle

Hey peoples, what gives? I got back from NYC on Monday, which was a much needed trip for me and the wife. I hate people, and New York is full of people, but as an anonymous member of the rabble, it's not bad. People hated me as much as I hated them! That was a treat. We did some touristy shit, like go to the Guggen.heim (which was some bullshit!) and go to the top of Rockefe.ller Center (which was tall), but mainly we just hung out and ate. We tried to shop, but couldn't find the "spots". Lack of research, I suppose. We had fun anyway, even though the knish I ate tasted like rat pussy.

We hung out with Slish a little bit and drank at one of his spots. Slish is insane, yo, just in case y'all didn't know. It was TAD's first time kickin' with him, but as an avid reader of his blog, it was like old times up in the joint with those two. Good lookin' out, young man. It was certainly appreciated. What you don't know, Slish, is that night after drinking, I went back to the hotel and worked out for an hour and a half. I never sleep on my program!

The visit helped reinforce my desire to move east. Man, I fucking hate this place. I just left the store where this faux gangster ass pussy boi was behind me in line, "Africaning up" his language trying to be hard. "Yo, man, you got some hot pickles? Where the hot pickles? Dude, why you ain't tell me you moved the hot pickles?" That's some real gangsta shit right there. Suckin' on a hot pickle, you purty mouthed bitch. Get me the fuck outta here.

KZ

The Tournament

Staff Member: It must suck to be a Spartan fan right now, hunh?

KZ: No, it's OK. I'm still your boss.

Go Green! Forever.

KZ

Plans

I make plans all the time. And we all know the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. But my plan for 2009 started in July 2008. It's when I decided to make myself more physically fit. I'm not doing it for my general health or anything of real value. I just wanna look good in my clothes. I call my plan "The 40-Year Old Linebacker", though that's really a misnomer, since I won't be 40 until December 2010. My goal is simple, to be in the best shape of my life and punch muthafuckers in the mouth when irritated. I could always punch muthafuckers in their mouths, but now I won't have to run afterwards to keep from getting my ass kicked.

The results so far have been a weight reduction from 330 to 275, increased energy, clothes that don't fit, and confidence that's off the charts. It's a great feeling and I still have quite a ways to go, but it's a start.

Lately though the plans have been getting bogged down. I'm too self-satisfied, too hungry, too bored, too blah. I need motivation. What the fuck am I doing this for? For women? I'm married, and she don't give a fuck. For health? This is a miserable way to live. For vanity? I don't care enough. I'm just losing steam right now. Every thing I do seems for nothing, and I have so far to go to get to 235-240, which is my goal.

I need to come up with a new plan.

KZ

Gimme Three Feet

OK, I know y'all sick of me tilling the same soil, but I remain irritated by the same bullshit. This is my forum to spout off and I'll take full advantage of it.

I went to the gym midday yesterday so that I could go home after work and just veg out. After my workout, I had to go to the shower. When I workout after work, I usually go home and shower, but the necessity of going back to work had me in the communal shower. I entered the empty shower room, twenty six spigots available, I pick one and begin to shower. Less than one minute later, this old dude comes into the shower room, stands at the spigot RIGHT NEXT TO MINE and starts to shower. Not one space over, right next to mine. Naked and showering. In a completely empty shower room. What the fuck is people's problem? How the fuck is that OK? Who the fuck does that? Apparently people in Satan's Anus on the reg.

The day before the gym incident, I went to see the State of the City address given by the mayor. I sat in a COMPLETELY EMPTY ROW. I didn't expect the row to remain empty, because the place was pretty full. What I really didn't expect was that the next person to inhabit the row would sit in the seat RIGHT NEXT TO ME, sharing a fucking armrest. In an empty row, why the fuck would you sit right next to a stranger, especially a stranger of the same sex? Who the fuck does that?

A few weeks ago TAD and I went to the movies. It was a virtually empty movie theater, with literally two other couples in the place. We sat four seats in on an empty row. Two couples came in together, in an empty theater, and sat in the four seats we left empty next to us, sharing an armrest with us in a vacant theater. We hopped up and moved WAAAAAYYY down the row, because there were 20 open seats that remained. The group watched us move and laughed about it while wondering what our problem was. Amazing.

Whether it be casual conversation, restroom stalls, standing behind you waiting to use the ATM, driving in traffic, whatever, these muthafuckers have spatial issues that are mind boggling and ridiculous. One more reason I wish throat punching was the law of the land.

Peace,
KZ

Detroit Green

What up, y'all? I was biding my time trying to gather my thoughts to post again. I have a lot of shit swimming around in my head. None of it all that urgent, but it's cluttered up there.

First off, I'd like to give a special shout out to one of my favorite (if not favorite) bloggers in the world, Aunt Jackie a.k.a. Ms. Ahmad a.k.a. The Glamazon, who graced me and TAD with her presence last Friday. We had a relatively short visit (why didn't you call, man?) but we got to laugh, break bread, drink and watch people. It felt like we've known each other forever and it's been about 4 blog years. We know blog years are longer than human years due to the level of disclosure we have online, so it was like eating with an old friend. I think we got a chance to witness somebody being relieved of their auto against their will, and that's always fun. We'll be in California soon, and we'll be wearing neutral colors.

I'm back in Satan's Anus still waiting on my reimbursement check and my rejection letter. Job hunting is hard, yo. I'm not looking right now. No other resumes have been sent out. It's sort of a weird time for me. Where I'm actually concentrating on "working" at my current "job". It's something I've never tried before. Also, I'm forced to think about where we are going to invest our forthcoming stimulus loot. Everybody with half a hustle has their hands out trying to get a contract with wth city to do a project that's not helpful or stimulating to anyone but themselves. I would personally issue a blanket "fuck you" to all comers, but of course my slack ass boss has made it my job to have meetings with these jack leg entrepreneurs as often as possible. Honestly, fuck this place.

I was driving with some co-workers to this Junior Achievement thing we were doing at one of the local high schools. Of course, I drive like I have some place to go, so that's really off-putting to native Anusites. One of my passengers was gape-mouthed because I sped through a yellow light. She asked me "Why didn't you slow down?" I said "Because yellow is a Detroit Green. It's a Satan's Anus Red." That's how I feel about this community as a whole. Mentally, I'm always trying to go and they're always trying to slow me down and keep me preoccupied with "the other" shit. I'm so sick of the other shit, but I'll do it until I can leave.

Peace,
KZ

The Process

I spent Friday on airplanes (four of 'em), in airports (four of 'em) on a several hour tour (three of 'em) of a city I may or may not want to have a hand in redeveloping, and an hour (just one of 'em) trying to explain my suitability for a job I'm probably not suitable for.

I was asked to be in Western Massachusetts for a face-to-face interview. This was after a phone interview that I completely bombed. Why did they want me to come to follow up that performance? I pretty much said "Fuck it" and went anyway. It's a free trip (they're reimbursing me for it) and I might like it.

My biggest impression was "Wow, there are a lot of Latinos here!" I didn't imagine that there would be such a big representation of Puerto Ricans out in the middle of nowhere. The second thought was "Shit they need a lot of help". I'm inherently lazy. It's the reason I write a blog instead of writing a book. Instant gratification over a long, drawn out process. That's what I like.

So after the first part of the tour, I ate lunch with my potential staff, the department heads that would be below me. I'd like to take this time to once again thank Ba.rack O.ba.ma, without whom the thought of me being their boss would be unbearable to most of them. I won't be their boss, but at least they would not get ill at the thought of it. I was my usual charming self, which means I once again fronted like I enjoy other people, and I got through lunch OK.

I finished up the tour of the city, and I was off to meet the mayor. He was decent dude, but I think somebody forgot to give him the memo about the phone interview. He asked me what I'd do to turn shit around and I told him it wasn't up to me to turn shit around. I'm a gotdamn facilitator. You tell me what to do, and I'll get it done. That's what I've always done, figure out how to implement someone else's vision. He beat the shit out of that dead horse, while I kept giving him answers he didn't want to hear. He thanked me for my time and had his aide take me to the airport.

Now I wait for the rejection letter and the reimbursement check.

KZ

True Life

"That pussy's all yours right up until after the wedding." -Wallace the Bartender

Nobody ever tells you anything worth a damn until after it's too late to do anything about it. People are glib and condescending right up until the the moment they realize the consequences are actually dire and the stakes are higher than they thought. I drink because I need to drink. I smoke because I need to smoke when I drink. I go to the gym every day because it's a habit now, not because I give a fuck about my health and well-being. It's the only socially acceptable place to be where you can actually people watch in the winter without being asked if you need anything every five minutes. Plus, zumba class is going on in a room with glass walls, so you got the perv factor going on, which is always nice.

But there is nothing that makes it easier being away from your woman. I love my wife, I love being in close proximity to her, even when we're on each others nerves. Quite frankly I'm not getting enough ass, which makes it even harder for me. I think she's OK with that, which is not OK with me, but that's another story. I think all my issues tied up with being in Satan's Anus tend to revolve around one central problem: my sex life sucks. It's been like this since I got here. I'd get dribs and drabs, but I've never fully enjoyed this place because since I arrived it's like I'm getting pussy rationed out to me. I will never apologize for loving sex. And I hate that this place has taken my one real pleasure in life and made it an occasional indulgence, like eating cheesecake or something. That's not the way sex is supposed to be. It's not the way life is supposed to be.

So I'm here, with an unsatisfying job, in an unsatisfying place, living like a gotdamn bachelor eating badly cooked meals, constantly reminding bitches I'm married, always alone, perpetually pissed off, and constantly horny, for reasons I've yet to figure out. I have always fucking hated this place, for what it is, but now mostly for what it represents.

I'm Out,
KZ

Nothing Much

"Go back to your fucking desk, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

That's what I'm aching to say after my secretary comes in to my office telling me she has some "positive news". "Positive" is their euphemisms for barely disguised cheap shot at one of their co-workers. "I got some good news! Jan didn't give me all the information I needed, so I called a couple of departments and I was able to track down everything you asked me for." Bitch, so what? As long as everything's there, I don't care how you got it.

I would never go into anybody's office with that load of bullshit, but they feel comfortable coming into mine. I looked at her like she was out of her mind and then told her "I don't really need to hear the story behind it, just as long as you got the information." She slinked (slunk?) out of the office looking goofy. Just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, just like I'm doing.

I've been a supervisor for most of my career. I thought it was due to my ability to intuitively figure out the best way to get a job done and to use that ability to lead others. Nope. I'm sure it's due to me leaving the higher ups alone and finishing a job without bugging the shit out of them. I'm sure that's the person I'd promote in a heartbeat.

Peace,
KZ

Rational Vs. Irrational

I have an irrational hate of real estate agents. I didn't know I did until I just looked through my large stack of business cards and saw all these real estate agents. I hate their fucking pictures looking up at me on cards, smirking and shit. I fucking hate them because they got the same look on all of their faces: I'm a gotdamn shark, a motherfucking go-getter. Man, fuck a real estate agent. Lying sacks of shit, one and all.

In a fit of self-improvement, I decided everything that comes out of my mouth today was going to be positive. I'm trying to create a bubble in which I can will my life into a more positive realm by speaking it into existence. Though I'm still writing the most foul, horrid shit, I think that I can maintain being an upbeat and affirming dude. This experiment will last one solid week, from Monday to Monday. Is this rational or irrational?

Everyday I go into a job I hate and sleepwalk my way through it. I'm bored, uninspired and exhausted most of the time. I spend my nights preparing for the next day, preparing for shit I hate to do. I also spend a fair amount of time trying to find another job doing some shit I hate to do. Rational or irrational?

Does it make sense to penalize low paid, marginally compensated people, stressed out about their future by limiting the little escape they have from their daily drudgery? Does it make sense to base one's opinion on the productivity of their staff on anything OTHER than their output? And does it make sense to spend money on a entire department that sole purpose is to monitor and snitch on every other department, if you could easily eliminate the need for the monitoring? IT Departments are as useless as tits on a bull. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.

Peace,
KZ

What's Missing

You may have
the gig
the broad
the kids
the cash
the face
the gear
the body
the house
the fortune
the style
the smile
the whip
the imagination
the will
the brains
the love
the science
the goals
the drive
the wiles
the support
and the means
but all that shit is useless without the passion.

Itchy Finger

OK, we get notification from the internet gods that Facebook is basically off limits. It is the second most accessed website on our workplace servers, only behind gotdamn Google. Man, fuck this place. It's not cool to work here. I hope the next most accessed site is the gotdamn want ads.

I had to have a really serious conversation with one of my staff today. I think he's got a problem, substance related. I've been a supervisor or a manager for 14 years of my 15 year professional life. I thought been through it all. But telling somebody their job is on the line because they're coming to work high is the nadir. I don't ever wanna have to do that shit again.

I had two gigs that I'd been waiting to hear back from for months. I had second interviews with both of them and was hoping to hear something one way or another. I heard back one way, from both of them. That way was me calling them multiple times and leaving messages asking about my status until finally, sick of my messages, both of them told me they'd hired other people. I figured that, but when the fuck were you gonna send out a letter telling me that? Or returning my fucking call?

I had the worst interview of my life on Friday. It was not cool at all. I didn't prepare and I was morose and lackluster. I told them I didn't know shit about their city at all. I told them I was interested in the job because I just wanted to leave Michigan. When the interview was done, I asked them when they'd do me the courtesy of sending me a rejection letter. I gotta get a better attitude, I'm working in a completely defeatist mindset right now.

Be Cool,
KZ

Trust me...

I hate your fucking baby. Stop showing me picture of your gotdamn baby. Stop talking about your gotdamn baby. Please, gotdamn it, stop.

Do you know how I know someone in Satan's Anus is going to turn right eventually? The entire time they are on the road, they will not leave the fucking right lane, no matter what. The same goes for turning left. These fucking addle-brained fuckers are gonna drive me to drink.

Who the fuck are you? And why do you wanna be my friend on Facebook? You're not even a friend of a gotdamn "real" friend. I hate you.

I love my wife. Absolutely and completely love her. I'd do anything for her, up to and including die for her. But if I don't buy her flowers and candy tomorrow, that shit goes out of the window. Isn't that how this holiday shit works?

Bitch be quiet! I don't pay you to think. Apparently, you don't think I pay you to work either. Bitch, just shut up.

Yes, I would very much enjoy that. Thank you for asking.

There is no way in fresh hell that this fucking place is habitable. It's highly uncivilized and extremely frigid.

The system is a funny thing. You have to study it to know it, then once you know it, figure out how to game it and use it's inherent weakness to your advantage. Once you exploit those weaknesses, the system has to change to prevent another breech. The thing is, the system architects are always the biggest exploiters of it. Their arrogance, believing that no one is as brilliant as they are, always leads to the system's inevitable change. If you are not an architect of the system and you game the system, you are the enemy.

I know this place is making me crazy. You don't have to tell me.

The Natural Defense

How's about I post 10 or 12 photos of me urinating? Just pissin' up a storm, right here on Blogger. Wouldn't it be great to see that? It wouldn't? Why not? It's natural! Everybody pisses, right? Stop being such a fucking prude!

I'm carrying over an argument I got into on Facebook. This chick was mad because Facebook's rules won't allow her friend to post pics of breastfeeding. The argument being it is a natural thing, the baby's just eating, it's beautiful, it's a great way to share the pics with friends and family, etc. They went on to further explain that Facebook allows gratuitous tits and ass shots, why not a little wholesome titty suckin'?

I'll stand my ground. I understand that it's natural and it's a way children and mothers bond, but why is it necessary for Facebook to condone it? If you want to share photos of breastfeeding with your friends and family, send them the fucking pictures. Post 'em on Flickr, Snapfish, or buy a gotdamn domain for 12 cents a year and post whatever you want. But Facebook or any other social networking site doesn't owe you shit. It's theirs, they get paid for it, you're a gotdamn customer.

And as far as the tits and ass shots, aren't they natural too? Doesn't everybody have a chest and an ass? If your argument is the "natural" one, there are a lot of things that are natural. Like flat out fucking, bodies decomposing, or animals eating their young. You don't necessarily want to see that shit posted.

If you wanna keep arguing about your right to post pics of your baby eating dinner, I'm not gonna participate. I'd still question your motives, which you say ostensibly is to "teach mothers how to properly breastfeed". Step one, put your milk filled titty in a baby's mouth. Step two, wait until the baby stops sucking it. I think I got it. Thanks, middle class white lady!

Idiots!

KZ

The Devil's In The Details

Hey y'all, what's good? I'm trying to maintain. The stress of living apart from my wife coupled with the ever increasing aches and pains of a daily workout is giving me the blues. Along with the weather and the economy, it's shaping up to be a pretty shitty next few months. In the meantime, I always have the joys of my job to fall back on...

Last week Office Broccoli, filing clerk, got paid too much in her check. Payroll gave her 40 hours of pay EXTRA. She brought it to my office staff's attention a couple of days after it happened, and they brought it to me. Simple solution, right? Give us back the money now or keep the money and we'll just pay 40 hours less on the next check. Case closed. Not so fast.

"I used the extra money to pay back my nephew some money I owed him. And I can't afford a short check next week." What the fuck is this? You used the money that wasn't yours AND you don't want to subsequently pay us back? Your nephews money came before our money, the place you earn a living, with no skills except alphabetizing? Really, dumbass?

So she complains to her union rep that we're trying to take money from her, money she hadn't earned yet. Now the union rep wants to talk to me. I ask him "What is there to talk about? She can pay us back or she can keep the money and be short on the next check. She doesn't get to keep the money and keep getting paid. That doesn't make sense." He asserts that it's the payroll processor's fault, that she shouldn't have to pay back the money, the payroll processor should. "I don't care who pays back the money, it's gotta be paid back with uncompensated work or cash. By the way, the payroll processor's in your union too. Are you willing to sacrifice one union member over the other?" His dumbass couldn't fight that logic.

Today she signed the agreement to receive a short check next week.

KZ

Last Night

I dearly tried to get into the inauguration swing of things last night. After I left the gym, I came home got showered and I called the "people who know things" here in Satan's Anus. Nobody knew any more than I did. I ended up calling Agent Zero so we could find out where to be. She named some places so we were determined to meet up at the place most likely to be jumping, the Satan's Anus Democratic Party gig. Ten bucks to get in. I got there first, so I paid and stood in the lobby. People were selling over expensive, wack food and Obama logo shirts.

So many dredlocs, absolutely no Black people. Bad hippie music and a of bunch people staring at the old Black dude in the sportscoat and jeans. I told Agent Zero to slow her roll. I needed to reassess where she should meet me. I drove around downtown and saw party after party break up. It was only 9:30 and people were getting the fuck gone. Satan's Anus folks love talking shit about Detroiters, but I can guarantee shit was poppin' in the D all night long.

Finally, just to go somewhere and drink, we ended up at this sports bar. One thousand TVs, zero inauguration coverage. On the bright side, I did get to see Penn State whup up on Michigan's ass. But no, I didn't get to celebrate the inauguration with more than one like minded person.

Peace,
KZ

Enough!

Alright, Africans, pipe down. I'm fucking sick of your forwards, your prayers, your messages filled with pablum and hokum, your gotdamn candy coated sycophancy, basically, your general overall dick-riding. Stop it gotdamn it! Enough is enough!

Right after the election I got inundated with every image, every iconography under the sun as it relates to Ol' Boy (I can't even write the gotdamn name anymore). I was hyped just like everybody else. Then, it came to a point where I was disturbed by the cheese level.

God, that photoshopping is the cheesiest shit in the world. That's some ghetto assed shit.

Then, it was the frequency in which I was seeing the shit. The extrapolation of this to shit everything.













I was wonder when and if this shit would ever end. I'm deleting shit from everybody, if I THINK it's gonna mention Ol' Boy in the email, in any way, shape or form, it's getting deleted.

Then, of course, my mother sends me an email, and in the subject line I know it's about Ol' Boy. My mother and I have had a talk about the type of email I will and will not open or respond to, so I think I'm pretty safe.

Uncharacteristically optimistic, I open the email and this is what I see, attached to a prayer.

What type of pseudo-messianic bullshit is this? Man, fuck y'all for sending this shit to me. I don't need this in my life. I really don't. I'll hold my breath for single-payer healthcare until I open another Ol' Boy related email. Really, y'all can save that shit.



I'm Out,
KZ