Listen: I don't give a good god damn about this Pile-Up that's slammin' us bumper to bumper here; I just want to get to work. I don't even want to get to work; I just plain need to get to work. Yes, I understand, auto accidents are serious things and paramedics need time and space to sort out the victims, etc. Yeah, whatever!! I don't even know these people for crissakes. For all I know, it's just some 16 Bitch Pile-Up! Yeah, okay! A 16 Bitch Pile-Up!
Oh, don't give me these theoretical sob stories. Every human life is precious -- right. I bet if every single one of these Bitches had one more day to do whatever they wanted they'd probably do something incredible, right? They'd probably, what, put out a critically-acclaimed album? Call it Bury Me Deep (TMT Review) and release it on Troniks? Go on a tour through the U.S. and Canada during the month of June? I'm not trying to be a dick; I'm just giving an example of how ridiculous that idea is. This isn't a tragic tale of a 16 Bitch Pile-Up; it's the tragic tale of me coming in late one-too-many times and having the higher-ups tap me on the shoulder and scoot me out the door, on my ass, nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to call my own, not even a single noise record under my belt. That's what I'd call a real tragedy. That's something I'd get my hankie out for. This, this is just a pile of Bitches. And I mean that with all due respect.
There's nothing I wouldn't do for a woman in need:
* Monotract, Religious Knives, Alan Licht
^ Fat Worm of Error