It's been a while since we hung out, so I thought I'd give you a shout. People talk a lot of shit about you. They do the same to me. Together, we'll get 'em. Join arms and circle the wagons, there's reality about.
You were always there. If I abused that, it was on me. No one made me push so hard. No one made me think anything I didn't want to think already. Anything I didn't know. That's bullshit, but it sounds so sweet.
So, we'll sit and chat awhile. I'll do most of the talking. That was the deal from day one, and it ain't changed now at 'day whatever the fuck it is'.
They don't understand us. But, to be fair, I don't understand a goddamn thing about them. They're a different species or something. People are dying in prisons all over the country. Some of them are guilty. Some are innocent. Some are less guilty than others - some were just trying to get by without hurting anyone. Silly fuckers, don't they know banks are the only ones who can steal? You pay taxes that maintain those prisons. But you can't hear the word "fuck" without changing your underwear. Ain't it just a peach.
I'm not turning a blind eye to shit. I'm not gonna watch 'America's Top Vapid Fucktard'. I'm not gonna sanitize my speech, the shit I preach, or the way I do it. Shit's like trying to take the fuzz of a peach. I want the pit. Screw it.
So, here's your comfortable American life. You can control the temperature in your house. You have clean water to drink. You are never hungry unless you choose to be hungry. Sure, there are people being tortured and murdered. Sure, we have US military personnel working with admitted child molesters in Afghanistan. Sure, people get raped. Occasionally, we fly a robotic death robot into innocent people trying to live their lives and just fucking BE. But you don't have to think about any of that shit when the snack bowl's full and there's mindless entertainment to be had. I'm so glad.
Ah, brother. See, you can't make sense of them. Because they're hypocrites. And we may be assholes. We may be degenerates. We may be addicted and broken and we may fucking cry too much. Dig. I am a privileged, white, semi-intelligent American. I may be broke, but I don't know what poor is. Actually, that's not quite right. I just haven't lived it. I've never watched my child die of starvation. But I'm not about to sit in my living room talking about the rain instead of the international child sex rings. I'm a coward of a different kind. I'm afraid not to know the truth.
You understand. You always did. That's why we always got along so well. You want to hear something fucked? I got an email a few weeks back from a guy who wanted me dead because I used the word "nigger" in a story. A story about the injustice, racism, and the ignorance of ... da Da DUM! ... "my fellow Americans".
How could I use that word? Oh, the shame. Maybe it's because when I use it, I use it as a magnifying glass to shine light on high-horsing motherfuckers who would never say the word "nigger" ... but also don't have any black friends. And can't talk to black people. What a fucking irony that is. I look at people and their color means jack shit to me. I had a football coach one time. Kid asked him what color pussy was best. He said, "they're all pink inside, son." Maybe ... just maybe the same thing applies to brains. You fucking idiot.
Fag, too. Although the fags seem to get it. Most people seem to get it, frankly. I know you understand. You aren't too packed with bullshit and Doritos to see the truth. And there are many truths, but this is my favorite: I don't care if you're gay. I don't care what color your skin is. I don't care is you like to suck your dog's dick - you live your life, I'll live mine. We'll all live with the personal repercussions. I've said it a thousand times and I'll keep saying it. If you aren't hurting me or anyone else then: I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. What. YOU. Do. I got enough of my own shit to worry about. I'm worried about REAL shit. Your jerking off to 'barely 18' porn just makes me sad for you. But I don't give a shit, really. I'd rather build some legos with my kids.
Let's stick with the niggers and fags for a second because I truly think it's interesting. I'm not gonna go all Lenny Bruce on this shit 'cause I don't have the chops or the time. But if I write a book and a character calls someone a nigger or a fag or a gook or a cracker, what ... I'm not supposed to use those words? PEOPLE STILL TALK LIKE THAT. Not people I chill with, but there are plenty of people I've MADE UP that I don't want anything to do with. So, you're so pure and loving and full of fucking gnome butterflies that it pales your very soul to think about the terrible, awful, SICK, people that use those words in EARNEST. That's some racist, homophobic BULLSHIT right there.
You want to watch the History Channel and get all concerned and thoughtful when you realize that over half a million Americans died in the Civil War. Fuck you. How do you think they died? You think it was pretty? Were there angels, even? Or did those poor, misled motherfuckers die in muddy trenches, screaming, trying to shove back in what the bayonet freed? But I can't write about it. It's too hard to think about. It makes you sad. Cry me a fucking river while you're pulling your head out of your ass you two-faced fuckers.
See, I really don't get it. And I know you do. Why don't they fucking understand? Why are they afraid of words and ideas that might actually penetrate the pretty layer of frosting they put on their 'I'm a fucking hypocrite' cake?
Man, it's good to see you again. Been too long. I don't have anyone to talk to about this shit. It was always just the two of us. I know, I'm getting all sentimental now. Spilling guts.
So, let them be offended because I won't lie. Nigger is an ugly ass word. So is fag. So is "special" if you say it with the right eye-roll. It doesn't mean the word doesn't exist. It doesn't mean that BECAUSE YOUR FUCKING GREAT GRANDMA WASN'T A SLAVE, you get to be all pish-toshed and hanky-reaching because, "well, gee, Martha ... I just don't understand why he has to say all those vile things." Cause people fucking say them. And they mean them. And I'm not cool with that. And I'm not quite insane enough to care about my lawn. Even if I had one. Agree or disagree. Hate me or love me. I could give a fuck. I'm gonna go read a book. Don't you have something important TiVo'd. Why would you want to spend your time listening to a washed up 'could have been somebody' speak ugly truths?
I don't even care that much. As long as you know this. Not because I'm a sick fuck. Although it has been said about me. I wrote a story about rape once that was basically a riff off of a personal experience (on the bad side) and lost a shitload of "friends". I don't care if you want to wake up, go to work, have a few drinks, pretend that the word 'genocide' doesn't apply to "countries like America". I don't care as long as you have the fucking decency to at least acknowledge that while you are getting the last crumbs out of the potato chip bag and wishing you had a bigger TV, there are children being killed. In horrible ways that I could describe. And will describe. Because someone has to tell the fucking truth. Shitty things abound. There are women getting raped. There are a thousand atrocities to account for your pleasant Wednesday evening. You turn a blind eye, and that makes you complicit. Think about it. I sure have.
What am I even talking about? This doesn't do shit for anyone except me. I get full up with the lies and I have to get it out, and this is the only way I know of that doesn't involve law enforcement.
Forget you even read this if you made it this far. Make sure you keep it on the hush and hush if you did read it all. You wouldn't want to ruin someone's night when all they wanted to do was watch a movie and relax. It was a hard day!
Step up and be counted. Watchoo want? Hell, reparation and endless hate? Degradation and a police state? How about 'separation of church and state'? In God we trust, you dumb bitches.
You and me? Shit, brother. We'll always be cool. You hurt me and I'll hurt you. We'll go to the dust, entwined, making spastic animal fucking sounds. Actually, I'm pretty sure the train's about to leave the track, but honestly, I don't care. I have told the truth. If that's what does me in - jail, the nuthouse, a swift bullet in the night - then fine. And I'm glad I was right about them. They've gotten away with too much. They've gotten away with everything. And I just heard the timer ding. Ten minutes is all you get 'cause it's all you're worth. Not you. THEM.
Frankly, I'm running out of fucks. I gave them all away a long time ago.