A Memo Concerning: Tigers, Vietcong, Jesus, and LEGOs.

Sometimes I wake up and wish there was a note at the end of my nose telling me not to be an asshole. The note is written in crayon, at least it is in crayon until the end of the note when I realize that it is written in lipstick, the same lipstick that someone once used to write a similar message on the windshield of my car. That note was slightly different though in that it asked the question, in bold capital letters, “WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN ASSHOLE?” I blame the fact that I’m writing about this on a particularly strange note I saw on the dashboard of some broad’s car that pulled up next to me at an intersection today. In Sharpie it was written: 65 MPH. And ladies and gentlemen this is why we have a Memo Concerning: Tigers, Vietcong, Jesus, and LEGOs.

A condescending smile usually explodes across my face every time someone tries to claim that we live in a strange world. The only strangeness in this world comes from how we have trained our minds to believe that the world can and should function in ways determined by our own expectations and desires. I say this while sitting in front of a large picture window, captured in this neighborhood’s reaction to midday, gorgeous sunlight, all while alternating between my testicles freezing to the insides of my thighs and slamming ice cold glasses of water one moment, then wiping the sweat from my brow and wishing that I was completely naked the next. It has become wildly apparent that this air conditioning unit was installed by Communist gnomes who never got to lick the butter from the inside of microwave popcorn bags and therefore are attempting to torture me. It is a highly elaborate torture chamber. An air conditioning unit behaving like the demented dreams of the Vietcong as it alternates between blasting ice cold air and neglecting needs as rank sweat puddles in the bottom of my shoes.

This is why I am so confused by this broad and her reminder to keep the speed limit. I am haunted by my mental picture of her nervously accelerating on to the on ramp, trying to ignore the Parliament Lights winking at her from the center console, relaxing then flexing her hands around the steering wheel, chest shaking as the car accelerates which in turn begins to gyrate her salon-cut hair that perfectly mimics the magazine clipping she handed to her hair stylist, so much so that her haircut looks more like a clipping. As she merges into Lane 1 her speed hits 68 MPH and she looks to the dash and is immediately frightened and in turn slams on the brakes. 95% of all US Americans are behind her in that they now curse this ignorant broad’s ass face, brake sharply, then on first opportunity pull around her just as rapidly as every other car on the freeway soon will.

For a majority of my late teens and early “adult” life I have had multiple people attempt to illuminate events in our world as “signs of the times,” as warning signs of either the return of Jesus The Christ or the end of Mankind. Some have even ventured to say that the two are linked to each other. I venture to think of these douche-cocks as people who only used their LEGOs to build things into the jank instructions that they came with. As for my relationship with Jesus, in short it is none of your fucking business. But to quench your curiosities my relationship with Jesus is as healthy as it was the day I was born. That said, I would like to say this: I am completely positive, being that he is and always has been a good friend of mine, that Jesus is pretty fired up that billions of people allow themselves to live miserable, helpless and deprived lives, then force other unsuspecting individuals to live the same miserable lives, all because of the bogus notion that He will return to fix some giant elaborate mess that we have all created. Where did this thought come from? Don’t worry; he’ll fix it all for us. Real mature folks…real mature.

There is no doubt that humans are getting shit upon from famines in Timor, to a Golden State on fire, our midsection holding tornadoes then savage floods (what did Noah say when the levee broke?), clean water in scarce supply in South America, to empty grain barrels in Africa. Are we helpless then? Some sadists even believe its ok, because this has always happened, only now we have the media to recognize it—as if that somehow makes the death of infants and the loss of fortunes an alright thing.

At age 25 I’m just starting to understand my self; which is weird because I’ve been playing with myself for over ten years now. It has taken this amount of treating to realize that the tragedy of our situation lies in the struggle between seeing our world as something beyond our control, or as something we are meant to control. This is even more tragic when we have cumshits counting down days for Jesus while voting oil barons for President like dick-flagella surrendering to the course of nature/God and in effect giving mankind a bottle of vodka and some sleeping pills as a solution. It is either this or we raise de-clawed Tigers and deny that they have teeth, in other words spending millions so that we can grow green grass in the desert.

Speed limits. Air Conditioning. We have created an elaborate set of parameters and boundaries. Rules and regulations. Modifiers and governors. Fences beyond and before our desires and will. But in the face of our environment they act more like sand castles, built boldly and with intricate design, ignorantly rising up from the beach as if attempting to stare down the rising surf.

Perhaps I am wrong in all this and I will be the first in line at the gates to hell. Or perhaps I will die and that will be the end Joseph Nicholas Aranda, soon to be forgotten and never to live again. I have my own thoughts and designs on the matter, but all that truly matters is that I wont ever let the fear of either a world waiting for its saddle or a life uncontrollable change how savagely and beautifully I will approach such an incredible day as tomorrow will surely be.