Come on Irene, I Swear (Well He Means) At This Moment You Mean Everything

Ahhhhh, run, fuck, hide, shit, Irene’s coming!!!  Hahahaha.  You know who isn’t scared?  North Cacalaca, that’s who.  You see Andrew Jackson blinking over there?  Fuck no.  One of North Carolina’s all time badasses is probably going to watch this hurricane blow through while sitting on a pier, then torch a Seminole village in Florida on his way to stealing the other half of Mexico.  Do you think Dale Earnhardt is worried about this hurricane?  If Dale saw this Nancy pants hurricane riding his bumper he’d flash one quick glance of pure Moustache Intimidation in his rear view, and that would be the end of that.  I’m not from North Carolina.  I don’t live in North Carolina.  But I have spent a fair amount of time there and I know a number of their citizens.  And this is what I can guarangoddamntee you: They aren’t one bit scared of some pussy-assed hurricane.  The only concern this hurricane brings is the status of the car races on Sunday.  That is it.  Are they gonna fuckin’ race on Sunday?  Listen, this isn’t a bunch of transient, pansy Floridians boarding up their condos and running around in circles shitting their pants, not realizing that when you live on a giant schlong jutting out into two bodies of water, you might get fucked.  Hard.  North Carolinians are going to pick up their shit, put it back in their garage, pound a couple of nails, nail a Salem, flush it down with a Busch heavy, and move the fuck on.  You think Michael Jordan is cowering behind some plywood?  Hell no.  He uses hurricanes to get a cut-rate on a motel room to bang some hoochies.  Petey Pablo is going to twist a shirt around his head and spin it like a helicopter on the beach and just dare Irene to do something about it: This one’s for North Carolina, C’mon and raise up….. 

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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3 Responses to Come on Irene, I Swear (Well He Means) At This Moment You Mean Everything

  1. Dustin says:

    I have met some people from North Carolina, one of them consistently, without question, has “Sunday Funday” While everyone of his buddies is at home moaning, hungover from Saturday, Kenny drinks and drinks on sunday. He's reality, “I'll worry about Monday on Monday”— Ain't Skeered is a way of life in NC.

  2. jamie says:

    Thanks for the nor cakalac love. The drunk rednecks boating down my flooded street have never been more stoked to be living without the law, without power and without their shirts- naturally.

  3. Zach Giles says:

    Nor Cak is always in my heart. For rednecks, the hurricane is not such a bad thing, as it gets the gov'ment off their ass for a few days, and they can fish off their porch. All of this assuming they planned ahead and bought beer before the hurricane struck.

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