Wednesday, 31 October 2012

• Pissing In The Wind

  and its blowing all over my friends

  The only thing that really differentiates Texas from any other place in the world is the proclivity of its people to urinate out of doors and to attach a certain amount of importance to this popular pastime. Urinating outside goes much farthur than merely meeting the criteria of what is socially acceptable; it is the way of our people. To walk outside under the Texas stars and bleed your lizard is considered the most sacred inalienable right of all citizens of the Lone Star State. Everyone pretty much accepts this in Texas, and if a stranger comes upon you (not sexually of course) they'll by in large leave you alone. If you are urinating say, on the shoulder of a highway, passersby may be seen to nod their head in approval, some even honking their encouragement from their cars. This is another reason, they should lower the speed limit to 69.99.

  If you try to urinate outside New York City, men will come and take you to wig city where you'll be placed before a battery of ball-less wonders called shrinks, and s0cial workers, all of whom believe that urinating outdoors is a sure sign of mental illness and just about the sickest thing you can do. Who wants to hear this crap from them anyway? Piss on 'em. I believe that urinating outdoors represents a certain freedom of expression and a sure sign that its not the sickest thing you can do in NYC. The sickest thing you can do in New York is to spread cream cheese on one side of your bagel and jelly on the other. Even the shrinks and social workers would probably admit that's pretty sick, unless of course you urinate on top of the bagel an call it performance art, in which case the battery of all ball-less wonders will find you a free thinking, creative spirit and discuss the matter glowingly, write about the case extensively, compare data for thirty-seven years, and finally procure for you a federal grant by which time you'll probably be wearing a catheter or have been bugled to Jesus and you damn sure better not try to piss on His parade.

  If you have the ill luck to attempt outdoor urination in Nashville, there is a high likelihood that a law enforcement officer may try to shoot off your dick. This actually happened to me one lazy afternoon in the late nineties when I was urinating off my friends fifth story balcony at 1509 Broadway just off Music Row. I do recall Bill (I did not have sex with that girl) Clinton was President at the time and also, as a matter of spiritual trivia, though not necessarily relevant here, that his favorite song reportedly was "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head." At any rate, in kind of a wholesome degenerate Kristofferson country music mood, I was whizzing off Corey's balcony that afternoon when a cop pulled up out of no where, got out of his squad car, and drew a bead on my unprotected penis. I quickly pulled said penis back into my pants but it was too late. Though I hadn't pissed on a bagel or Clinton's head, the damage was done. I was hauled in by Metro for killin' time and pain with the Singing Brakeman screaming through my veins.

  On The way to the cop shop, I paraphrased one of Gustave Flaubert's final sentiments to the two cops taking me in. " I only hope that before I die," I quoted, " I shall be able to dump several more buckets of shit upon my fellow man," the cops were not impressed, " They call that literature." I said.

  Not impressed one of the cops said, "We call it indecent exposure."

  Sitting in the backseat watching Music City slide by outside my window. "Any exposure is good exposure." I said.

  Anyways, whatever you are doing it is probably better than pissing your life away waiting for death to come knocking at your door. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, pause and take a leak along the way.

  • 9:36 PM
  • 136 Views
  • 10 eProps
  • 5 Comments