A good friend announced to me the other day that he was "becoming" a Minimalist.
I raised my arm showing him the back of my hand, fingers extended and said:
"Well then let me just get rid of some of this clutter."
I curled back three unnecessary fingers and a useless thumb;
"To minimalism!"
Then I released a long silent fart, not as further salute to minimalism, but because our friend was conducting business on the phone. I'm not RUDE.
At the park I met a douchehag woman who was prattling on and on about her "actor skills".
"Gimme any emotion and I will act it." She squinted.
So I elbowed her really hard in the boob.
"Act like that doesn't hurt."
Later The World's Biggest Midget friend of mine who had a massive stroke asked in a mumbled slur if I wanted to drive with him to spring break and even though his arms and giant head flop around somewhat uncontrollably due to the stroke I said sure why not. We jumped in his convertible VW Cabriolet and he looked no different than the other drunken spring breakers swerving hither and yon, showing their boobs and acting all MTV.
He's an excellent drooler!
Minimalism is for quitters.
Safety is for pussies.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught quoting yourself as if nobody heard you the first ten thousand times.
Your Favorite Broke Ass Cripple Who Cain't Neven 'Ford The House Payment,
Ed McMahon
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