SONG OF THE DAY: Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll (kudzu'd)

I never could skate well because I never learned how to push off with both of my feet (hardcore leftist from birth). And while I do not mean to unnecessarily objectify anybody out there, with all due respect, I gotta say a big woman who can roller skate is a genre of human I tend to adore. But to be clear, not nearly as much as I adore creeping phlox or daffodils (especially the yellow ones with the orange center). I think sometimes when a guy says something like “I adore big women who roller skate,” it gets equated with our systemic inherent patriarchal norms of oppression, when in actuality I’d much rather hang out in a junkyard with daffodils than worry a big woman on roller skates with small talk. I get why it’s equated with all that… I mean, most of our skating rinks are now owned by Christian Nationalists and are called something like “Wildman’s Radical Skate Center!” but they won’t play music with rapping in it, so I get it. We live in such a horribly performative time where people are being contrary to their own true desires just to keep up the performance they’ve been trapped in. Shit man, we might get performatively armageddoned by these faux macho dipshits in charge. But even if we do, somebody has to be stubborn enough to outlive them, and I hope that is me, sitting in a junkyard with the daffodils, wishing there were still big women who could roller skate as I attempt to extend human evolution by mating with a hella thicc grey birch tree.

SONG OF THE DAY: Wagamama

I swear by getting a flu shot every year, because (knock on wood) I hadn’t gotten the flu in a long while. Even when it’s running through those around me, I seem to come out okay. I do miss the side effects though, like laying on the couch feeling like shit and watching Blood In Blood Out and Mi Vida Loca back-to-back off the youtube bootlegs. I ain’t done that in years now. Don’t get me wrong, I still lay around fuckin’ off on the couch a lot. But it’s just not the same as feeling half-paralyzed with nauseous all-body disgustingness, and just laying there as a long ass movie plays all the way out, without a break or looking at anything else. And then the next movie just comes on and you keep going, laying there, hoping you don’t have to vomit in the little plastic trash can with the triple layer of two Food Lion plastic bags (the blue cold items ones) inside of an outer layer yellow Dollar General bag. When I was a kid, my mom used to give us the big spaghetti pot to vomit in, which always seemed fucked up to me. I’d be sick and shit thinking, “Damn, she’s gonna make spaghetti in this fuckin’ thing next week.”
Anyways, this world is sick as hell. Vaccinate yourself with a little bit of love. Although scientifically speaking, if the world was sick because it’s full of hate, true vaccination principles would mean you have a tiny bit of hate to get it out of your system and build the proper antibodies, but I don’t think hate and love work like that. But what do I know? I’m just some guy who ain’t had the flu in a while.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rock 'n Roll Mouzone (kudzu'd)

The ancient Greek avatar wearing mirrored sunglasses Western Man of the post-post-modern extremely online variety hates with great haterism a belly on a woman. Obviously, this makes no sensible sense, is not practical with the sucracide glyphosate foods we have at the store (no maha), and just ain't what a Real Man would think. The extremely online Western Man is not Real though, just an algorithmic conscious set of 0s and 1s ragebaiting serotonin for so long that they actually start to believe their gimmick. Personally, I love a belly, and love when a woman not only doesn't give a fuck about it but shakes that thang (said in Hasil Adkins voice, FYI). My people come from the mountains, so curves are appreciated, and in fact make us wanna holler (the good way). So eat a dick, Western Man. You'll feel better.