Let Me Tell You Something . . .

Some more creative writing for you:

I don’t like brussels sprouts. There is no possible way those nasty mini cabbages can be prepared so that I’ll like them. These veggie balls are both bland and bitter at the same time and taste as I imagine dry plaster of paris might taste. When they come in proximity of my mouth, my tongue involuntarily shrivels and hides behind my teeth. I’m 35 years old and I WILL NOT acquire a liking to fucking brussels sprouts nor try them again or try them prepared a different way. More for you and every other person who loves them so much! I honestly don’t care if you eat them. I won’t and we will get on with our happy lives.

I don’t like sitcoms. It’s the laziest form of television and that’s saying a lot because there are whole stations devoted to airing a crackling fireplace 24 hours a day. But sitcoms? They take a premise and repeat it 100 times until the audience is so accustomed to the format that they will keep watching it in perpetuity when they are syndicated. I’ve seen all the supposed great sitcoms. Seinfeld? Sucks at nothing! Cheers? Everyone knows it blows! Full House? Full of shit! I know you like your sitcoms. You can rewatch Big Bang Theory until you die alone at the assisted living facility you’ll end up at someday. I won’t watch a minute and we will get on with our reasonably happy lives.

I don’t like Facebook or Instagram or TikTok or Twitter. They all subvert what it actually means to communicate and share our lives with other people. Do I have a Facebook account? Who doesn’t. Do I like it? I haven’t logged on in over a year and I’m pretty sure I forgot to wish Happy Birthday to some folks as a result. I’m fine with it. I text the important folks when it’s their birthday. I get a notification when you write on my wall for my birthday and I feel fucking obligated to log on and like it. I gave it up though. No more. Text me instead. You can talk to all your other friends and share factually suspect news articles all you want. I won’t participate and we will get on with our delightfully happy lives.

I don’t like dicks. There is no possible way I’ll ever suck on one of those erect sausages. Couldn’t even pay me to do it. They don’t even look all that great to me, so why would anyone even want to put one in their mouth? I just don’t understand that at all. To top it off, they just get super sticky and messy . . . I have one of my own and I don’t even like it that much. Annoying, ugly, blunt instruments of simple-minded joy and procreation. No wonder ‘dildo’ is associated with being stupid. Penises are stupid. I guess that mean there are more for you to suck on and I don’t give a fuck if you do. I won’t and we will just get on with our happy lives.

I don’t like God. He made us? Who cares. Everything that happens, good or bad, is supposedly ‘His plan’. Why does God look like us and work in the shadows and render such a sucky universe for his little ants to struggle? It’s all a very weird concept and I’m not fond of it. I would like to get up every morning with good intentions and coffee and simply live for the betterment of myself and others and not write it and knee-mail it to some sky daddy with the hope of earning eternal life in a white, cloudy void which will be just as bland and bitter as brussels sprouts. And yes: I know you go to church every week and volunteer when they need folks to picket the Planned Parenthood downtown. That’s whatever. You do you. I won’t be a part of that and we will get on with our oh-so-happy lives.

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