My official vacation for the year starts tomorrow, so you will have to do without me for a while. Don’t sweat. I’ll be back before you know it, and the three of you will have more to stare at than the cold, boring bars of your cells. Just keep your head down and do your time while I’m out snorting blow from the various stripper crevices. I’ll send you a postcard with a picture of me and Lindsay Lohan doing the Lindy Hop on America’s grave. This vacation is mostly just a trip back home to see the progenitors and the shiftless layabouts that I hold as friends. You can’t go home again? That’s true, not after the fire I started before I left. I doubt there’s much left to go home to. Back to a triple digit pollen count, air like soup, and a pre-New Deal attitude towards race and sexual preference. Back to the land where Jesus is King with his wife Dairy Queen. Does Manifest Destiny work in reverse?

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 19th, 2008 at 11:05 am and is filed under Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.