alcohol is for the retarded
Has there ever been an uglier man or a shittier writer than Charles Bukowski? If there is, I don't want to see him, and I wouldn't be able to read more than five words of his verbal asswipe ... which is about my limit with the dead soused ogre Buk. LOOK at that man's face. Hideously ravaged and mottled from years of alky-pickling to the point where his mug and his liver probably looked identical.
And yet, despite his savage deficiency of character (he beat women, too, but at least I DON'T DRINK), he's a god to legions of hipster fuckups who find delusional romantic comfort in the pathetic dwarfish lush's dead-end lifestyle. Slam down a few more boilermakers, losers, and blame The Man for your complete lack of drive and direction in life. And then put your arm around me, rubbing your pasty armpit on my shoulder, and tell me how much you love me. And then when I pull away, take a swing at me and wind up swallowing your teeth.
Alcohol shoots straight for the brain's Asshole Gland. I've known a few brave souls who can handle the shit, but only a few. With everyone else, it unleashes things better left leashed. It is the beverage of choice for the weak and retarded. And I may be wrong, but along with speed, it's the only intoxicant which has been proven to cause brain damage. So chug 'em down, retards.
A group of youthful revelers were skunk-ass drunk on my apartment building's roof last night. One of them, empowered by the Fruit of the Grape to the point of self-deluded invincibility, thought he'd be able to jump across a five-foot chasm which separates two sections of the building. Instead, he fell four stories and broke his femur, an arm, and some ribs. At least he didn't kill anyone in a car accident.
Cheers!
