Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody

The emcee – not a rapper, an emcee, there is a fucking difference – so this emcee said the whole world is an allusion, no no no, an illusion, and he said the only thing in this world that is real is you, and he said never let the world create you, never let someone else do that. Create yourself.

He roared over feedback as dudes strolled through the crowd selling nutcrackers from coolers for three bucks, and I snuck swigs from a deuce-deuce. Choreographed hand-slaps, throwback jerseys that were not throwbacks, they jus'ol'en shit (Jeff Garcia '49ers, c'mon), and a ghetto blaster on a shoulder, so old old school.

Bums pushed shopping carts near the stage in the same park where the emcee – not a rapper – was once homeless, and the emcee leaned down and whispered to me: your mother wants to kill you, and I said there might be a few others just like her, and he yelled: You! Must! Lear-er-er-ern!

Love's gonna get'cha, gonna get'cha, love is gonna get'cha.

And then there is that. And then there is this: I hear the next sentence, the one that is the real, the realest, the one that might set us all free, and my fingers refuse to type it, just cannot do it, cannot handle it, cannot speak it, too fucking afraid, so I wrote that and this instead.

Wait. Here it is: the thing is, you, ugh, sorry, nope, not it either.

How 'bout this: A fat woman – no, not just fat, I mean an all-caps fat woman. She brought her extra asses with her. The all-caps fat woman walked through the crowd in tight jeans and a white tank, and she could not be contained, she was rolling out of her clothes at every stretched hem, every broken seam, and the shortest, skinniest dude checked her, gave her the one-two, up, down, mmm-mmm-mmm girl, I gotsta have some a that.

And there you have it, in that is the answer to it all.

Wait, no, what am I saying? That is not it. That is not even close. This is it, here is the thing I could not type, the thing you have to figure out about your life that will change you forever, help you escape the illusion, elevate you to Heaven/72 virgins/The Southsouth Bronx.

But wait.

First, you have to hear this, you will love it: You know where the answer was? I swear I am not making this up. It was inside my bottle cap. Crazy, right? Anyway, here it is, all you will ever need.

It is your life:

8 x like a billion = how much I love you:

deryke said...

hellz yeh ...

xTx said...

'bout time.
puddle of Evian in a fuckin' desert my brofren....

lorianne said...


Wyatt Junker said...

Mmmm. Fatties.

Haven't been hogging in awhile nor hill climbing, even if they are the Price Club version of the 2 gallon ketchup bottle.

It hurt my head to translate the Lucky Lager twister.

Mariana Soffer said...

Of course you have first learn and create yourself, so you do not become:
a nice description of the fat woman yourself.

You say here is everything you are going to need for living:
It is amazing the picture hasl I will ever need, and it is like that indeed. I revised my list about things I can't do without and there is all in there, every single list is compliant with the picture of the thing.

Matt DeBenedictis said...

This was a righteous fucking jam.

Chick said...

My mother wants to kill you too.

carrie said...

so nice


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