Postmodern Pondering

Umh, humh. Yeah, I know. Most of you figured I'd drag my "criminal" butt over to the ol' Commodore 64 again and, this time, post a comedy video featuring Fred & Red. Or maybe another humorous anecdote about Mouthpiece (Red) and how his comic insults have made him the little darling of this hideous Martian Lompoc. Wrong.

I figured that's what most of you wanted from me so, naturally, I was determined not to comply with your wishes. Most of you are from Earth, anyway, and that makes most of you a bunch of little Benedict Arnolds, like Farnsworth M. Mudd (still laughing my ass off about that name). People who'd sell your fellow Earth man and Earth woman for another day of getting yours, your way.

No, I'm not having a "hissy fit". Farnsworth has "hissy fits". Whenever he doesn't get his way he screams and points like a teenage girl having a tantrum. Just like a girl. If he swore at me and tried to stare me down once in a while he'd at least be acting like a teenage boy having a conniption. Forget about Farnsworth ever acting like a man and taking a swing at me. He's more than likely to make another video all by himself, probably an unflattering lie about me pickpocketing money from women and candy from children.

That's where I draw the line. If I have to rob women and children, I'll bite the bullet and get a job first. But there aren't any convenience stores in the entire galaxy that'll hire me now, thanks to those shitheads at Think-A-Holic Lounge. If I ever get picked up again by a roving wormhole and dumped at Think-A-Holic Lounge, I won't even set foot in the goddamn door. I'll just hang around outside and moon them until they can't take it anymore and start a fight with me in the parking lot. Then I'll just sit back and watch all those damn security bots they love so much over there mop up the place with them. Serve them right.

But, back to the point of this posting. Shit. Now I forgot why the hell I fired up the ol' Commodore in the first place. I'm pretty sure it was important. No, it had nothing to do with the Grays. I'm sick and tired of whining and crying and squealing on the Grays. Everybody knows about the Grays. Leave the goddamn Grays out of this. No, I think it had something to do with Cleveland. But I can't for the life of me think of a single damn thing I'd ever want to say about Cleveland.

So, it must have been something else.