By Shicane Reyes
What a friggin’ time to be alive. This year. This whole goddam year equates to—to urinals. Ya’ know those urinals? Ya’ pass by ‘em and you could swear, God was punishing your nasal passages for about a couple o’ seconds there. Know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout? Those urinals that–that hang in corroding iron-clad stalls fixed along the sidewalks of EDSA highways, waiting for the next UBER driver to zip down his fly and whip out his shameless junk on it like he did earlier that same night with a passenger; drawing that drunk college chick’s curtains for a good ol’ half-past midnight pounding. But, man– guess that’s just a’ight, ya’ know? It’s goddam a’ight so long as the victim’s lack of self-guard justifies the friggin’ offender’s lack of moral compass. Whatabuncho’ steaming-hot pile of bullcrap.
Be a pal and hand me the lighter, will ‘ya? Saw your tweet the other day. ‘Twas that shallow political stance followed by a goddam “hilarious” Harambe meme. Friggin’ pretentious. Ain’t nothin’ more than a Mocha Uson blog. No offense.
Man, I feel like a sissy smokin’ Lights. Why d’you “millennials” try to play villain in this disappointment you call a society? Ya’ share a video on social media ‘bout the disasters currently occurring in Aleppo to “raise awareness”, and what? Ya’ have your “outfit-of-the-day” photo taken, ya’ post ’em on social media and ya’ talk about how “on point” or “lit” it is. Now tell me: Which post got more “likes”? Just makes you another brick in the system you try to be a fault in, ya’ know? So, who’s your mason? Kylie Jenner? It’s like y’all get blessings from your “idols” sacrificing one heart per post on Instagram. Stroking your gorilla glass touch-screens all day as if our opposable thumbs owe their joints and tendons to these smartphones. These devices developed by tycoons or—or tyrants. Goddam tyrants running their companies, their factories, their—their dystopias. How can you stomach the idea of subjecting hundreds of thousands to an eight to twelve hour labor for one man to make billions? Is it ‘cause of some cute Snapchat filter you get on your iPhone 7? Or a little more than that, maybe? Look at you. Goddam phone’s more human than you robots, for chrissakes.
I’m headin’ back home in a few. I’m not stayin’ out to sit through the fireworks. Sick of ‘em. Had ‘nuff of ‘em all year ‘round. Our police force’s been having their own “New Year celebration”, lighting up their lead firecrackers on suspected “drug pushers”. But have we any right to whine about this? We act like we do but we don’t. Our President didn’t win ‘cause he chose to put his butt on the seat. We, the people, elected him over three other idiots and the late Senator. God bless her soul. Ya’ thought his jokes were funny, he said he’d play “shoot ‘em up” in our country, y’all thought that was cool and said “Ya’ know what, I think that’s what’s best for The Philippines. What an audacious yet brave man. I’m voting for him.” So y’all friggin’ did. Now we have a megalomaniac sleeping with heroes. ‘Least most of America knew they’re screwed before that blond moron took over. Here’s to another goddam year to masquerade our intimacy for this world.
You can have the last stick. Mom’s pretty keen on the stench of stale cigarettes. Plus, I’m cuttin’ it down to at least a couple o’ sticks a day.
Art by Tim Castillo
