the drunk kids, the catholics they're all about the same. they're waiting for something hoping to be saved
so i have this idea to solve for world peace, okay well peace here in the good ol' U.S. of A. anyway. so here's what we'll do, and i need to give venom some credit here, she really helped me develop this thought, i actually think that it might have been her's originally, but i have decided to write about it. so here's what we'll do, the democrats are going to leave the whole gun thing alone, people are going to be able to own any gun they want, any ammo they want, however many they want, i know, i know just stick with me here for a second, i promise this will work out. next, the republicans are going to be so happy with their guns that they will agree to stop infringing upon our fourth amendment rights and i can stop worrying if they are listening to my phone conversations, searching my emails, getting upset when i talk to my friends about how much i want to go to cuba, i won't have to worry about someone getting pulled over and arrested for a having a "single seed" of "yerbabuena" somewhere in the car with them. i think that we would all get along so much more if i could have all of the guns i wanted and know that my right to be protected from unlawful search and seizure was respected, we would all be happy and voila, national peace.
don't you like how i used as many commas as i could
(i did that to throw off anyone who might be sneaking around my blog looking for threats to our national security,,,,,)
we are the clumsy passerby, we push past each other with elbows, with feet, with trousers, with suitcases, we get off the train, the jet plane, the ship, we step down in our wrinkled suits and sinister hats. We are all guilty, we are all sinners, we come from dead-end hotels or industrial peace, this might be our last clean shirt, we have misplaced our tie, yet even so, on the edge of panic, pompous, sons of bitches who move in the highest circles or quiet types who don't owe anything to anybody, we are the one and the same, the same in time's eyes, or in solitude's: we are the poor devils who earn a living and a death working bureautragically or in the usual ways, sitting down or packed together in subway stations, boats, mines, research centers, jails, universities, breweries, (under our clothes the same thirsty skin), (the hair, the same hair, only in different colors). --pablo neruda--