Learn this lesson, bitchtits - people are fucking weak creatures. Even your beloved imaginary friend. In 10 years you will be living in a house with a picket fence, yellow lab named Toby, 2.5 children, a school teacher wife named Sarah, you will be wearing Sperry Topsiders, no socks, take Viagra, use Old Spice, fall asleep watching TV everyday on the couch, and masturbate to kiddie porn when your wife is staying at work late getting slammed by the school gym teacher because she secretly hates her boring American life with her boring fucking pansy husband who takes her to the latest Diane Keaton movie every weekend at the local cinema and then to dinner where you discuss how little Timmy has been lying about doing his homework and how your boss won't get off your ass cause you are in jeapordy of not making your quota this month and your Dodge Intrepid lease payments are due and your wife is complaining about how it is difficult to get into her Lexus SUV cause her fat fucking ass is too big from sitting home all day cleaning the shitstains out of her husbands hanes tighty whiteys, watching Oprah and eating. And you're not going to do a goddamn thing about it. Sure, you'll fantasize in your mind about taking off to Vegas and living the wild man's life. Maybe grab that cute little bonde secretary from down the hall and fly to Bermuda for a few weeks to live it up like back in the day. But then you will get right back to reality, back to your fucking mortgage payments, and back to little Janey's college fund, and back to your fucking Saturday yardwork. Maybe you'l have a few cold ones withthe fellas during your Saturday poker game and say words like "cunt" and "blowjob" - you know, really livin on the edge. But when it alls boils down, you don't have the fucking balls nor the moxy to live life the way you planned. You got fooled by the American Dream. You invested it all in the picture-perfect world. You fantasy fucked your own mind into thinking this is what you really wanted. This is "The Life". But when you are all alone at night, on the road in some Holiday Inn Express, sitting back with your Dean Koontz book, just you and your thoughts, you realize that it's all a big fucking rape. The car, the kids, the wife, the dog, the gas mileage, the vacations, the garden tools, the basketball hoop, the pool - you got raped by the system, man. And you didn't have the fucking balls to stand up and do what you wanted. For yourself. You just laid down, bent over, opened up your cheeks and let the man slam you in the good place. It didn't feel right at first, but you massaged your own mind into thinking this was the way it is. That's life, you told yourself. Well ya know what, fuck that! It's not too late. Get your fucking life back.
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