Bloggy McBlog Blog

New York, NY — Summer is here. New York City is like a hardboiled egg, just out of the pot, white and round and too hot to touch. Waiting to be shelled and salted. Your clothes cling to your body and the back of your neck gets damp. Sometimes your palms gets damp. Sometimes you get a rash where your thighs rub together.

Young women walk the streets in tank tops and shorts. Their supple skin exposed to the beating white sun and the gaze of middle aged men who were trying to remember something they were supposed to get at the store and when they don’t get it and come home they’ll be subjected to exasperated sighs and comments like, “that was the whole point of going to the store” and “do you live on planet la la or something?” The young womens tanned necks, covered with fine downy blond hairs don’t get so damp. Or at least they aren’t covered in boils.

Some people don’t like summer in New York. To those people I say, YOU ARE A BUNCH OF IDIOTS WHO PROBABLY CAN’T SEE PAST THE END OF YOUR NOSES AND MAKE EVERYTHING SO HORRIBLE FOR EVERYONE AROUND YOU THAT YOU SHOULD JUST DIE. I don’t mind it. It’s exciting. There can be blackouts and looting. You never get that in winter. Looting maybe, but not blackouts so much.

New York, NY — My teeming fan base always asks me the same questions over and over again. The biggest one is “Why does no one ever ever read your blog, besides those jerks at the Onion WHO UNASHAMEDLY RIPPED YOU OFF, sir?” I tell them off handedly not to call me sir, that really I’m not that formal. But they still call me “sir” out of respect. They can’t help it. It fills their stomachs with butterflies and their eyes with stars to be so near to me.

But I tell them I don’t know why no one ever reads this. Why I type and I type, I work my fingers to the bone, wearing out keyboard after keyboard, mouse after mouse with the typing and the clicking and the double-clicking SOMETIMES EVEN TRIPLE CLICKING. I do not ask them why they do whatever it is they do. I don’t say, “Why is it you work at the Gap and sell poorly made tan pants sewn by female prisoners in a far off country to people who are interested only in consuming, consuming, consuming more and more of the Earth’s resources, driving in their cars because they can get DRIVERS LICENSES and there is no ’special list’ which they are on that means they can’t.” I don’t ask them that because it is NONE OF MY BUSINESS.

Likewise it is none of my business why no one reads my blog. People can do what they like. I don’t care. It makes no difference to me. And I don’t see why it makes so much of a difference to some judge. Live and let live, that’s always been my motto. That’s why I don’t own a dog.

Cock fighting is another thing that is bad. People make chickens kill each other. People should do their own damn jobs and not make the chickens do it. IF IT’S YOUR JOB TO KILL A CHICKEN JUST KILL IT. Don’t make some other chicken do it for you. That’s just lazy. And not very nice. Think about that next time you’re biting into a chicken nugget. Ask yourself, who slaughtered this chicken? A person with a job or some other barnyard animal forced to work as a chicken killer.