There is Only One Way to Teach People to Respect the Value of Human Life: Kill Some Mutherfuckers

Two weeks ago the corner where I get dropped off by the bus each day after work was shut down for the entire night by Chicago Police, Fire Department, Bomb Squad, Traffic Wardens, Garbage Men, Vagrants, you name it and they were on the scene for over 5 hours. Why you ask? Because someone left a suspicious suitcase in front of the Planned Parenthood (aka Oopsie Fixing Clinic) at the corner of LaSalle and Division on Chicago’s near north side. Authorities are speculating it was done by a fundamentalist religious group (i.e. pro-life cult) to send a “message” to the facility which houses an abortion clinic. I see these pro life wastes of space most Saturdays if I happen by the PP, singing songs of stupidity and generally haranguing the staff. And you know what, I get it. I think there is only one effective way to teach people to respect life in all its cycles, whether post-uterus human or zygote. And that way is to kill the fuck out of them. What better way to force people to cherish human life than to indiscriminately blow them to hell? That will teach rape victims, impoverished young women, hungover and semen-stained sorority girls, Lindsay Lohan/Paris Hilton, and anyone else who is choosing to not burden society with a life they can’t support, to fucking think again. Same goes for those that work at these types of operations. You want to be able to go to work each day and not worry about being blown up or snipered by a person who is 2 I.Q. points north of an official “State Certified Retarded” stamp on their resume? Well you’d better just change careers and work out of your house from now on asshole. If you want to continue to do Satan’s work by assisting a 16 year old black girl who tried alcohol for the first time and made a bad decision to have a second chance to finish school, get a job, find someone she loves and start a family she can support on her terms, that’s fine. But you need to be prepared for some blond-haired, pink-eyed albino from deep in the bowels of Salt Lake City to murder the ever-living shit out of you. That’s the trade off, bandejo.

Same goes for convicted murderers. How we gonna teach puppies not to bite? Bite them. How you gonna teach the kids not to murder people? Murder people, that’s how. Oh, you are mentally retarded and don’t understand the fundamental differences between right/wrong, alive/dead? BooFuckingHoo. I guess you shouldn’t have been born then, and especially not in Texas.

I’m with the fruit-loops on this one. Sometimes you have to murder a few humans to make an omelet. And I think I’ll start getting off the bus one stop early and walking it on in.

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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