Greasy Anus

A poem by John John

Oh, I like to song
I mean song
Dancing is a or a table lamp will kill you with stuff

Now let's get to the will-nilly of things, okay? Everybody like Coca-Cola. So do you, whether you actually like it. A proven fact, that is. Tha main problem with lemonade is it's actually not Coca-Cola - which is why everybody likes it. Fascinating, huh? That's why lemonade is not that popular. People only drink what they like to drink.



You know how we can't say the words "do", "secs" or any other word that implies that you might be talking about sex? (Adverbs included, by the way) I imagine, that in abot twenty years time, every single sentence you say will have a double meaning. You won't be able to say "I'm going out to the supermarket to buy some salmon" any more.

And no, I did not say I was a homosexual with an embarrassing fetish. I like it when the red water comes out.

t was a peaceful October afternoon. The weather had warmed up to the perfect fall temperature and I was enjoying a sunbath from the window with my $800 painful shoes on my $1,000 designer foot stool and my $5,000 chair perfectly shaped for my ass.

It had been a long day at work reclining in my Mr. Burns armchair keeping a watchful eye on the ticker tape that showed my wallet getting fatter and fatter. You know, it's a big responsibility finding ways to make easy money and then finding somewhere to put all that money.

Just as I had begun to doze off to the hum of people investing in my stocks I heard shouting from outside.

"WE ARE THE 99%!" was chanted over and over again.

I peered out my window at the ant-like people far below. Ha! Ninety-nine doesn't seem like much from here when they look like ants.

"Tell me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!"

Yes, yes. Millions of little worker ants coming to my service to fill my wallet from theirs.

Hold it! What are they saying? They are protesting my wallet? They think I should give them money? Who do they think they are? I thought liberals were an extinct speeches; I haven't heard anything from them till now. Now the NYU hipsters are crawling out of their coffee houses and encroaching on my part of lower Manhattan. One street—one little street is all I ask them for and now they want that, too.

Where is the justice in this world? This country was founded so that people could get wealthy without the British getting in the way. Our Declaration of Independence says "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness"—as in you are welcome to get rich. Our Constitution is supposed to offer protection to the minority so that they will have a fair economic chance. Well, I am part of the upper 1%! I am the smallest minority of the country! My rights to wealth need protection.

"Excuse me, Ma'am? I have your coffee," said the secretary.

"Coffee?! No. There will be no more coffee in this office. We will not support the coffee house Villagers who are trying to steal my precious dollars. Do you know what goes on in those places? They discuss liberal doctrine—even in the mainstream, mass-produced Starbucks."

I snatched the coffee mug from her hand and threw it out the window. Then I demanded that she bring me the rest of the coffee in the building so that I might have the pleasure of throwing it upon the protestors.

"This is a revolution! We're having a New York Coffee Party!" I declared. "From now on we will only serve tea!"

Occupy Wall Street, Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Two days ago I stood in Washington Square Park as people gathered around the fountain yelling "Tell me what democracy looks like!" and in response the crowd called back to the youths standing on the fountain's edge, "This is what democracy looks like!"

Soon their shouts mixed with those of other distant chants in an eerie harmony. Through the grand white arch hundreds of protestors flowed down Fifth Avenue and into the park where it swept up the crowd already gathered there and plled them toward Wall Street. A banner floated past that said "Arab Spring, European Summer, American Fall."

Discontented college students and professors filled the streets. A woman who always had perfect credit score but fell into financial difficulties after two years of being out of work for health reasons said, "Nobody wrote me a $17 million bonus." A young man who was trying to get the money to get through trade school after a year in jail said he was angry at the way the police treated protestors at the Brooklyn Bridge. He also just wants to see his dream of being able to make a living cutting flowers possible. Is it really so much to ask to have the money to go to school or have money to take care of your health or be a florist?

One protestor declared, "It's not socialism; it's liberal capitalism."

One person despairingly said, "My country is falling apart." The protestors had nicknamed this movement "American Fall", but we must listen to these protestors and start monitoring Wall Street or watch out that America doesn't fall.

As we neared Wall Street, two other marches converged with ours and throngs of people yelled their way to Wall Street.

While I teasingly call it "The Coffee Party" to spite the Tea Party, this is no joke. These people are out of money. They are serious and they are coming. This movement is real and it's knocking on all of our doors.

If you're wondering what that was, that is in fact a weird essay I stole off blogspot. Hmmm...

Myep. So there's my rambling done. Adios, fellow Pakistani!