Give it a title? I don’t even know what it’s about

October, right? Christ on a moped (he’d like it here; the helmet law was repealed) much later in the year than I was hoping for. I’m on the very dark end of my fifties and time both crawls and gets past ya. I guess it always has, but in, say, my or your twenties, ya figure there’s time to change things up. I ain’t scared of dying, I just don’t like queues. And if I didn’t think bucket lists were silly, now would be the time to get to it.

I am told it is important to have no regrets for this world — Murasaki Shikibu (more or less)

A bucket list is regrets spelled out to a fine point. I’m not dying anytime soon, but sooner than I was thinking. To step back off the edge of macabre and maudlin, it’s just the sort of day to ponder such shit. Being legally allowed to smoke reefer has taken the shine off it, that and all the medicinal claims are happy horseshit, like snake oil. Outside of how fucked you get and the flavor it’s hard to tell any difference between one bud over the other, medicinally speaking of course. Like, I have nothing to do today, no reason not to spark a meaty spliff of potent shit and watch cartoons.

Heh, I kid. There is a commercial on one of the streaming sites (must be Vudu, I don’t get commercials on the other ones) that has a montage of cartoons with a loud obnoxious soundtrack and the moving caption “Every day is Saturday, 24/7 cartoons.” The montage are kids cartoons. Every day is not Saturday to an eight-year-old. An eight-year-old is basically chattel, they have to get in bed early, spend the day, mon through fri, getting educated or as I like to think of it; detained. And the fucking grownups watch the news and get angry at the TV, and no, Just no. Every day is not Saturday, and, though technically speaking, there are seven days in the week and each has 24 hours, most days are markedly not Saturday in form or function. And some kids have to bathe and get dressed up on a Sunday to go to church which, it could be argued, is worse than school. Sure, it’s shorter, but Christ, you don’t get called a sinner in school, not public ones.

All the indoctrination and detainment aside, what eight year can afford paid streaming? Sure, they could get a library card, even be applauded for doing so, but what library is open 24/7? Some of them keep bankers’ hours. So, I submit, who is that ad for? Some old school cartoons, like, say, rocky and Bullwinkle had puns and jokes for adults without boring kids. I don’t even understand half the kid cartoons here in the states. It’s like cartoons went all punk rock; the uglier and more obnoxious the closer to the ideal. I guess if you’re going to let your eight-year-old put a safety pin through his nipple he can probably stay up late to watch cartoons. Of course, Nickelodeon is pretty much 24/7, so, it’s not really a new thing.

I think I had good intentions when I sat down to type. Something went sideways with a quickness. If I were stoned and eight years old I’d be all like “Dude, what if we’re cartoons and space aliens were watching us?” and you’d be all like “If you’re from space you are an alien, we don’t have domestics in space” At first I’d think that was profound and then I’d punch you in the shoulder and call you the cussedliest thing I knew and you’d crush Doritos in my face and mom would be all like “Do you boys need more soda. And we’d have cotton mouth so we’d be all like “hells to the yeah Mrs. Mom”

The world would be better off with cartoons on Saturday morning as god intended. If god had meant for cartoons to be 24/7 we’d have higher cholesterol and god would insist on keeping the remote and atheists would be all like “shit. Can we watch the news or at least Adult swim” And god would punch them in the shoulder and call them bitchs and they couldn’t even crush Doritos in gods face or he’d like stop creation and watch cartoons himself for millennia, that’s like 24/1000. It’s a scientific fact that atheists hate cartoons.

So, I might as well discuss yams. I like yams. I don’t know why there’s got to be yams and sweet potatoes, it’s like valentines’ day or Father’s Day, invented by hallmark to sell you yam cards. That made perfect sense in my head. I can’t tell you whether my head is more yammy or sweet potatoey, but I can tell it’s a twenty-four/seven head, though, to tie things altogether, it’s feeling more like a 24/1000 head.

Shit. Now that I’ve tied things together I got nowhere else to go. Guess I’ll sit in the corner until the ink dries. It’d be really cool of god to let me use the remote until the paint dries. I mean doesn’t he have some priests to turn into pedophiles or something. Shit. Tied together. It’d be really cool of Mrs. Mom to toss me a grape Fanta.