YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS

2008 finds me in much the same circumstantial posture -- mentally, physically, and otherwise -- that was all too apparent at the ass-end of '07 (and '06, '05, etc). That's neither good nor bad, an intelligent person might conclude. Then again, an intelligent person would hardly waste his or her ever-dwindling attention span by offering opinions on a desiccated bonehead such as myself. That's reasonable, I suppose.

Bear with me, please. I have no idea where this is going, which itself is the most blatantly obvious personal characteristic carried over from the previous year(s). Sigh.

***

Whatever. You are what you is, as Frank Zappa once so elegantly phrased it. The human refuse who plague my usual beer outlets and watering holes -- mostly homogenized suburban slummers and artificial midtown sophisticates without an original thought in their pointed little heads -- is, naturally, disposed toward turgid and ridiculously credulous gum-flapping over totally transparent, made-for-TV trash like "The Moment Of Truth," Presidential politics, and/or something called the "Bowl Championship Series." I, on the other hand, is apparently fated to do little more than spit useless bile over this poisonous rash of chuckleheads, this existential eczema of halfwits marring even further the body politic's already grotty and highly questionable complexion. Somebody has to play the role of cheap, over-the-counter pore-flusher that doesn't really do anything. I just wonder why it has to be me.

Yeah, well, you can just keep on wondering, you dumb bastard. And while you're wondering about something you can't possibly understand, also try to clue in on the fact that your feeble potshots of pusillanimous puerility won't change a muck-stinkin' thing. Nope -- nothing. And, truth be told, it doesn't really matter, since expectation is merely one of a myriad of fetid effluvia incontinently spewed from the human ego machine. Give up on the reptilian imperative; divorce yourself from the narrow-field vision of profit and loss, domination and control, fear and loathing, desire and despair. Just sink your teeth into the cheesy fabric of 21st-Century existence, and chew all those gag-inducing toxins and lead-based paint like they was the yummiest thing you ever choked on. Just do your thing. Man. Like Frank said:

Do you know what you are?
You are what you is
You is what you am
(A cow don't make ham ...)
You ain't what you're not
So see what you got
You are what you is
An' that's all it 'tis

Ah -- pure poetry.

(Incidentally, if there's anybody out there who can authoritatively assure me that this post makes any amount of sense whatsoever, well, I'd like to hear from you. Seriously.)