He lost it all… Job gone, Wife gone, Girlfriend gone, Money gone… Even his favorite dog had given up on life with his paw to the sky saying… "Fuck PETA, where were you when I needed you?" HE thought he had made all the right moves, Did all the right things, followed all the rules save a few… So when they came to put his juicer on the front lawn along with his $2,000 prints from an artist who was all the rave… 5 years ago.
He was close to grabbing the silver piece of metal that he had stashed for a rainy day. The plan was to pawn it or end this madness with it. Tired of that little man at the crossroads fucking with him , He fixed his lips to utter words he had heard his grand momma say when in frustration, she was an inch off his ass. "God, please take the wheel" and added a #WTF so his holy utterance had some humility disguised as defiance. He was still a man. Just as he was about to grab the pearl handle, and usher the nozzle to his head… God appeared. Not your long white bearded, white cracka “hark the Herald angels sing” God, But a God that could speak to him in a manner in which only he could hear.
(Her voice booming) “ Chill, you’re taking this life way to seriously. Last life you were a Bumble Bee and had purpose. Bees don’t question their purpose, they just BE. But this life I fucked around and gave you free will and… You got clever. ” (She continued..) “So, you want me to take the wheel? That’s cool, but I ain’t no chauffeur. So we’re going to do this together. I’ll drive, you shift. Forget everything you know and leave the juicer behind, I gave you purpose. This is enough… “
"Are you not entertained…Are you not entertained?"
Hell naw I am not!
I was out last night and found myself watching little men with big egos almost come to blows and possibly more, over club real estate. “Excuse me homie, but we paid for this section”. A make shift vip area put together by arranging scantly placed furniture with the skill of a mildly retarded drunken man, was the potential battle ground.
We’ve all been there, when what starts out small and stupid, becomes bigger and much stupid-er. For some reason I felt fully aware, almost out of body. I myself have fallen victim to it, many times. I thought to myself, “This is really about to happen…” It was like watching a group of kids fight over a sandbox. All in protest over who got there 1st, who owned it and who’s bottle of Vodka was to be poured into sippy cups.
1. I’m sure that the gentleman, who was policing the section & didn’t pay for it is not a visionary, has daddy issues, thinks that his material possessions are the sum of him, drives an $80,000 car, lives with his mother and still puts his name on the orange juice in the refrigerator. “Mom, don’t drink my sh*t”.
2. I’m also quite sure that even in this display of machismo at the sandbox standoff, that there were pistols on 3 of the individuals. We have come to a time when shooting a man is a truer display of being a man, than 2 guys going outside and “shooting the fare one”. I can see the tombstone now, “He died protecting his sandbox, sippy cup, a woman that was his (for the hour) and with a short and a shiny piece of metal in his hand” (Phallic).
Is there a point to this, not really, I’m just venting the best way I know how. And at the core of my annoyance is this: I saw truly gifted, talented, superior thinking & normally even tempered gentleman, get caught up in this whirlwind of stupidity and false manhood. When the bullet or bottle is hurled it doesn’t distinguish between the moron and the peacemaker. The bottle’s life purpose is to be filled up with liquid, this is when it is at it’s happiest. But it will alter that purpose when hurled by a human being with no purpose. On the other hand, the bullet is the deadliest because it “lives” to pretty much do one thing: fly, fly, fly until it completes the intent for which it was created.
When men forget their purpose or have not discovered their purpose, the purpose of inanimate objects may possibly prevail.