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Join The Club Or Get Stuck In The Cult Injin Boy

August 2nd, 2001
I'd like to start by wishing you a happy Doppelgangers Day. I hope the fat republican man left you a good load of shit and booze. To celebrate my D-Day me and a selected group of friends traveled a distance of on half of an hour to the beach. Whether you are there to get a tan, swim, relax, or just to bury the body, the beach is the greatest place to be during the summer. As our tiny planet slowly spins out of control into the sun we get hotter and hotter, so we might as well cool off in our world's oceans before they boil and our ecosystem crashes. Most of us need to travel at least a few miles to go to the beach because face it, we all can't live on the beach. If we could the entire world would be made of tiny islands big enough for a house and a picket fence (or any sort of fence) on it. But it's not. Or I think not. If it is then I'm a whole fucking lot more sheltered then I had originally believed. Instead of tiny islands we have two groups, extremes if you will, that get the right to live on the beach. The first of these groups is the extremely rich. I guess somewhere along the line real-estate agents mad beach property look like the greatest place to live in the world so all the rich moved in. Coincidentally they're the only ones who can afford to rebuild their houses every time they're ruined by flood. If I was rich and going to build a house it would be built into the side of a mountain. Oh, and it'd have a big plastic bubble around it so that planes flying by explode well out of range from the house itself. The second type of person who gets to live on the beach is the completely homeless. These guys wander out of train carts and huddle in masses around barrels they've lit on fire. Beaches are swarmed with them as well as park benches and the bushes under your bedroom window. If living on the beach is supposed to be so expensive how can these guys do it for free? Hell, they even feed off the land. Homeless people are the new Native Americans, so you Indians can just back the fuck off. You've become too corrupt by gambling and pissing yourself over cans on the side of the road to hunt the fucking buffalo. We've got to leave it to a starving Irish man to kill your buffalo now, so I hope you feel like a real red-man, whitty! Aw fuck, now I don't even know what the hell I'm saying!

Quote of the Day: You can quote whoever you want to quote, just tell me when you're done with all this "quote" shit so I can punch you in the face... 2001, me! - Jason Smitt

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