it takes a gun

You know what really burns my biscuits?  Support for weapons of mass murder.  This argument that if someone REALLY wants to commit murder they’ll do it with whatever is at their disposal so “DON’T TAKE MY GUN!!!” is cute.  Pretty sure I’ve never heard of a mass forking yet.  What realistic rationale is there for having these types of weapons?  Bambi hunting?  You can kill those fuckers with a bow.  You’re a collector?  Collect fucking Faberge eggs.  This idea of not being able to have reasonable regulations because well, “I’m not gonna kill anybody” is insane.  When I get on a plane, I also, have no intention of putting a bomb in my honey hole or killing anyone with my nail file but I still have to go through the motions like I might.  That demeaning cattle call that treats us all like common criminals is a price we pay for “safety” since some assholes made that fear a reality.  Do I like it?  Of course not.  It’s ridiculous to be denied regular sized shampoo and water I overpaid for ten steps from the security line.  But I do it.  I get it.  It’s the price I pay for travel because I want to travel and those are the terms.  How many more people have been killed by guns?  Let’s just talk about these particular weapons.  It’s been like the “must have” accessory for every American mass shooting in recent memory.  Why the fuck aren’t the same steps taken?  Why are the powers that be not collectively shitting their pants and losing their minds trying to get these things banned?  Why aren’t more “responsible” gun owners/enthusiasts lining up to call for fiercely stringent background checks?  That’s fine if you want a gun, but couldn’t you agree it’s worth it to wait a little longer for your coveted whatever if it can prevent an atrocity?  Isn’t a little more digging worth it?  Would you really rather have some worthless fucknut being able to take advantage of these lax laws because you can’t bother being inconvenienced?  When is enough finally enough?  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but AR-15s do.

go snail racer

You know what really burns my biscuits?  Slow motion drivers.  A speed limit is more than a friendly suggestion.  It’s an accepted agreement that we all sometimes (most times) exceed.  If one doesn’t feel comfortable with this, get a goddam Uber for goodness sake.  No one wants to meander behind moving roadkill.  There are places to go and people to see and plodding along like the tortoise, is going to get you ran over by the hare.  Don’t hold the rest of us hostage because you don’t have anything worth rushing toward in your monochromatic life.  When I get stuck behind some Sunday afternoon post church cruiser on a Monday rush hour morning, I find myself going all Carrie, post the pig’s blood, in my head and really that’s just no way to start the day.  Could I take a deep breath and count to ten?  Sure, but I’m not the asshole here.  The plodding piece of shit with the line of honking cars behind them is the error in this equation.  Step on the gas or get a bus pass.  Please.  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.

premature revelation

You know what really burns my biscuits?  News stories devoid of details.  I shouldn’t be left with more questions than answers.  “Reporting” isn’t supposed to be some riddle me this brain teaser.  Ideally there should be letters, that form words, that share facts.  It’s beyond lazy to shit out some blurb, that should really just be a sentence, in the interest of click bait.  If you want to say a bunch of crap without doing any research, blog about it.  I did.  However, don’t masquerade under the revered mantle of reporter and not fucking report anything beyond what could fit in an abridged tweet.  If you want to dabble in throwaway media, stick to the social strata and leave the fourth estate to the grown ups.  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.

interstate clog song

You know what really burns my biscuits? Heavy handed lane closures.  Like do you really need to block off a lane of highway for five miles when the only messed up part covers about five feet?  I’m all for providing a cushion of safety for our not so industriously hardworking members of the highway crew, but isn’t that a little bit of overkill?  Do you really need to block off the entire area you might someday in six months get to working on?  Is it really that big of a pain in the ass to remove those little fucking orange cones when workers are not present?  I’ve seen them being put out.  It’s not like some motherfucker is walking down the highway doing that shit.  Honestly, I put forth more effort putting on a pair of skinny jeans and the only inconvenience is to my camel toe.  I’m not asking for a fucking road to Damascus or anything.  It would just be nice to not feel this intentional middle finger to my plans and sanity every time I traverse the interstate highway system.  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.

hyperbole abuse

You know what really burns my biscuits?  The abuse of hyperbole.  Particularly in the news.  Like really?  “Hillary BROKE the internet with her Trump tweet!”  Pretty sure mine’s still working, cause I’m on it right now you asshole.  Or “Donald Trump DESTROYED by Stephen Colbert!”  I’m pretty sure if I turn on my TV that crusty fucking talking Cheetoh will be lurking somewhere.  There’s also, “Watch John Oliver TAKEDOWN Donald Trump!”  Like it’s some WWE Smackdown instead of a thoughtful examination of a “presumptive” Presidential candidate.  I use the “collective ire for Donald Trump” examples because his whole schtick is hyperbole.  He is the personification of the word.  It’s the only language he knows.  And while it might be entertaining on a reality show, is it still funny when you’re talking nuclear codes?  Shouldn’t we ask ourselves if an overblown Oompa Loompa, with the demeanor of one of those bitches from the Bad Girls Club, wearing what appears to be some dead rodent on their head, is really the best role model for political discourse in this country?  All of these “talking-head-political-insider” types go on and fucking on about Trump’s lack of substance.  Can they not see the irony here?  When you reduce an issue down to some click bait headline you’re essentially doing the same thing.  You lose your moral high ground and become just another bottom feeder screaming the loudest about nothing.  You’re a backstage blowjob groupie and it’s honestly pathetic.  The news is meant to inform, not to entertain.  It shouldn’t be a ratings grab.  Journalists shouldn’t whore out their integrity for that one extra fucking retweet.  It’s about as classy as one of those “King Midas took a crap all over me” Trump motels and shouldn’t we all expect a little more for ourselves?  Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but I might.