Disneyfuckingworld

If the Clash were ever to dig up Mr. Strummer and begin writing songs again i suggest the title Misanthrope at the Disney World, which would've perfectly summed up my situation last week as i strolled around in the unbearable heat of central Florida, you see i hate people, not kids mind you but adults, the kids actually make me laugh and smile in all their wild eyed wonder at the shit that goes on around them while their parents on the other hand walk aimlessly, argue, cut in lines, run over you with strollers and then give you the stinkeye for getting in their way, in short it's my worst fucking nightmare but sometimes i gotta do things for the good of the imaginary boy and for as much as i wanted to strangle every other dipshit that walked by me the imaginary one was like a pig in shit as he and his dad rode rides and watched life size cartoon characters wander by...

the obvious thing is that they should hand out acid or at least have one day set aside for the chemical lovers of the world to roam around the park, though the more i think about it taking a few hits on the sly and being most likely the only person tripping my head off might be more amenable, i could stand around drinking slushies and grinning maniacally as i rode It's a Small World over and over and marvelled at how the ride was a homage to unbridled racism and stereotypes, had i set up a gig like this in my backyard i'd be persecuted mercilessly by the do-gooders of the world, Scotland represented by bagpipers and goats, Ireland by leprechauns, Africa thrown in as a whole continent and represented by loin clothed bushmen and rhinos, you name the country and i'm sure you could find something offensive about the representation but since it's plopped in the middle of Walt's dream no one really gives a shit, i myself got a good laugh out of it...

the real torture of the place was the fact that though i wandered to and fro all day i could not find a beer and when the heat index starts topping 100 in the words of Patterson Hood of the Drive by Truckers, Daddy needs a drink, but really i made it through the day and managed not to get in a fist fight with some random asshole who couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted the roasted turkey leg or a patriot pop, (what used to be bomb pops when i was a kid, a red, white and blue Popsicle, apparently we merkins are all touchy about calling anything bomb) so i guess in retrospect the little excursion was a success.