You have to have it happen to you. Then everything becomes real. But don’t worry if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s all coming. Relax. All you have to do is live and watch.
Watch what? You know, the grand show, don’t you know it? It’s called King of the Shitheads. It’s on all day almost every day, every channel.
What’s that? Who’s in it? Why, I simply refuse to believe you don’t know. So many stars! From the shitheads in turbins to the shitheads in suits! It’s got everything! Drama, history, suspense. But most of all it has humor. It’s the funniest thing you’ll ever see, especially the part when they get wasted on weekends at the shithead hive, you know, the place with ‘dem fly ass ho’s and the template douchebag bitchfellows who are all up in here. Weee!
Look at me!
Look at me. Please. I need you to. Please, look at me. OK I'll show a little more, but will you look at me? Please. OK, I'll go, if you look at me. I need you to. Please, please look at me. OK I'll do that. I'll do that with you. You're looking at me now. You're the best. Thank you. Thank you you're the best. I love you.
What’s that you say? They need it? They lose it all up in the club, with them rad beats… off the hook yo! All the eyeballs wanting to meet them! Off the hook! Yeah! Oh!
Righty-ho.
You can smell the self-worth ripening, growing, molding over their bodies, the shitheads tuning their sensors to the girls with low self-esteem, the easy ones, the shithead chicks dosing up on the attention. It’s smeared around, helping people face…
Look at me. Please, I need...
You know, all this time I thought they were just severely retarded. Like pure-bread dogs that look so great until you see them walking into walls, pissing on themselves. The human equivalent is people who act like they think they’re supposed to, unable to do their own thing, step to the side of what’s been placed in front of them. They’re walking caricatures. They need distraction to feel like they’re really moving, that everything is really in place, that things are really fine, that they’re locking onto something and not just as fake as they feel, as fake on the inside as on the out.
Don’t worry! You can blend in! Go covert! OK, what you do is copy the speech patterns and dress codes that you see in the movin’ pictures. Chicks, show what you got! You don’t need to worry, no modesty for gods sake! There’s shit everywhere, everyone is giving! Before you know it it’ll be all over you and whammo, you’re covered! A real, live shithead too!
If you’re really good you might be able to sneak into the Shithead Parade!
It involves costumes. It leads to certain neighborhoods. It has certain hours and expectations.
Shithedz 4 evr!
Obit: Here lies Shitead Fetale. Her free spirit will be remembered... mostly by men, the way she thought she wanted it, before it was too late. RIP
It’s perfect. The shitheads go do the boozy shithead dance, pacified by PHAT BEETZ! Like toddlers and their cartoon soundtracks. The shithead hop is just as reliable, the computer does it, along with a shithead playing someone else’s records and pushing buttons. Over and over and over again, thank YOU Macintosh, shithead enabler.)
What’s that you’re into?
DJ Fuckhead!
Oh I like DJ Fuckhead!
Before the Shithead Show there was more testosterone in the world. Life was more. Clean blood was moving. People woke up pissed and ready to fuck, or fight shittiness, weakness. People could bite down and be honest. They had some life ideas, some principles for themselves and their eyes were open. They could take a punch if they had to and give it back three times harder when needed. They could tell an asshole, call it what it was and bite down. Now they can’t tell the difference. Now, people think what they want is to be the assholes.
And when they realize how exceptionally fucked they are… it’s too late. What a motherfuck that will be.
Life might not have been much better in pre-shithead days, but the entertainment was more impressive at least… you know, waiting for the nuclear holocaust. Especially when the Ramones came and blew everything apart, saving us from what almost ruined mankind, the worst holocaust of all:
Residues from that war remain, but it’s more like a stain, now, on certain people.
I can’t really blame the shitheads themselves, though, it’d be like blaming a David Koresh follower for being hypnotised into self-immolation. Or a Christian fundamentalist for passing out when the good pastor touches them, you know… with vigor!
There he goes! The shithead fundamentalist!
Check out the threads! Check out the shoes!
Check out the cheeses, and check out the booze!
Ain’t pretty.
Your daddy used to be quite the clubber! Oh yes he surely was! He looked so cute up there in his outfits. I just couldn’t resist.
Then I ran out of my Plan B.
Happy Birthday, sweet nothing.
Thankfully, shitheads are pretty well contained, you know exactly where you’ll find them. If you get bored or stuck with them, you know exactly what to say, it’s like talking to a child. But be careful if you decide to tell them what a shithead they are. Shitheads don’t react well to truth, not at all. Their self-worth is too bound up in shittiness. By shedding light on that, they’ll cling to it harder, like a brainwashed cult member being told their leader isn’t really loving them, that in fact he’s just playing them for sex. “That’s just what they want you to believe because they want to keep us apart. Now come here and do what I taught you. Slower, yes…
Good metaphor, I know.
Not to worry, real people exist, too. Sometimes the shithead factions feel like a bit of an invasion and it’s important to confer with real people to check the severity. But nothing needs to be done. The roach motels are already in place and the shitheads can’t help themselves. So sit back. Relax. Try not to feel too sad about it.
