SETTING FREE THE PENGUINS

When I came home yesterday it was to discover that streets were blocked off due to a horrendous fire. No, not a cybertruck with drunken fraternity boys or other useless Republican trash, but an apartment house. Real people were affected.

There are no leaves to rake, okay?

That may have been the building of the pizza incident over fifteen years ago. In any case, just down the block from a favourite restaurant, as well as where Auntie Jenny lives.

Naturally I mind. Look, if it were a cybertruck, no one would care. Even if it were occupied. Worthwhile human beings don't drive those things unless they stole it for a joyride ending in its destruction. It was designed by a South African draft dodger with a small penis for people with small brains and big giant flaming egos -- which may be one reason why they just keep catching fire -- who would benefit from being brutalized, and one of those things parked in a driveway is just asking for it. But that ain't any business of mine.

If it were a fire in Tiburon, or even downtown Sausalito or Mill Valley, I wouldn't give a damn. Condominiums OR cybertrucks, es iz mir scheißegal. Karenstan starts once you cross the county line at the end of the bridge. It could just as well be Iowa or Ohio there.

I'm surprised no Teslas have gone up in flames there.
It's probably neighborhood watch committees.
Pointing guns at people.


"Drop the burrito, boy, we'll have none of that kind of stuff here!"


And before you know it, you're stuck in a holding cell in Louisiana surrounded by violent inbred bucktoothed slackjawed yokels guarding you. Some of them have banjos.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================