Cacafuego

Too much going on. Work is kicking my ass these days. It feels like every time I come up for air there are a thousand buccaneers shaking their broadaxes at me; their chirpy talking parrots demand hard labor and threaten me with crude hand canons.

Today, I’ve been fighting them off with the ferocious new Beasties record. Fight animal with animal I say. I’d like to see those fuck-pirates take on the 5 Boroughs.

Two sets of neighbors are trying to outdo each other on the perimeters of my lot. Their motive is child entertainment and their weapon-of-choice is the outdoor playground. Huge metallic and wood structures that I would have been psyched to see at a public park back in the day now occupy 70% of my neighbors’ back yards.

Customer: “I’d like to buy this playground for my kids”

Sales Clerk: “Great. Would you like me to ‘Super-Size’ it for ya?”

Customer: “Hell yeah!”

All that’s missing are those creepy old micro teeter toters. Remember the ones that were about a foot and a half off the ground? They had those rusty half moon seats with drain holes. I still remember this one that looked like Donald Duck, buried in the sand up to his knees. Because of the way it was positioned each kid would actually be sitting in one of Donald’s outstretched hands. His giant head had a little square green cap on it. Donald looked like a drunk child taking his first baby steps when rocking at top teeter. I remember that the seats were close enough so that you could sit there and slap his head and it would make this horrible plastic echoing sound like a poorly mixed reverberating kick drum on an old Black Sabbath bootleg.

Donald Duck. Pirates. Beasties. . .Where do we go from here?