Good Morning Suffering Minions of Artifice,
I’ve really only had time to briefly reflect on last year’s addition of ‘life’s rich pageant’ but feel strongly about being considered for martyrdom. I’m not sure how it’s done or who I should apply to, but shit fire the things I’ve endured, suffered, and been tortured for should put me at the very least qualified for 23 virgins. The fact I haven’t asked for paradise is indicative of my sense of fair play. But damn it to hell karma owes me a fucking break! If not for family and friends I truly would be thrust into the world of homelessness. I do have an exit strategy though; if I’m to live out of a box I prefer the constant 84.3° of Kona with the occasional tremor as opposed to -15° or 103° without palm trees. That will have to be addressed soon enough. But if anyone deserves 72 virgins and continual bliss it’s me! Suicide bombers are abject wimps! PUSSIES!! I TELL YOU…Dying is easy! Try living…..that’s the challenge! Death is instant and painless; releasing the ‘dead’ trigger ends all worry and pain leaving honored parents to put Sonny’s picture up in the bunker. How much effort does that take?
Trade my problems for yours? 72 virgins my ASS!
I don’t wish to itemize a point by point comparison as it would only serve to raise doubts about the veracity of my account. Nevertheless and suffice it to say, the vagaries of living on this rock are many. Putting them in order of severity depends upon the parallel universe one occupies. Certainly living among chards and bombed out buildings is a picnic when compared to running from the IRS! Okay granted they must forage for firewood and water, but I’d like to see just one of those little jihadist get up twice each night to piss…you can’t make this shit up! I know what you’re saying whippersnappers, “dude….you can’t compare a suicide bombers life with yours” I’m hip. What I’m trying to explain to the two or three of you reading this millstone are that suffering is relative to the time and place one finds themselves. Scrounging for food and water is on one level while dumpster diving at Safeway is on another. Being hunted down by Predator Surveillance planes is a walk in the park when juxtaposed against securing 250 ft. of extension cord to the rear of Taco Bell just to use a hot plate. Oh by-the-way, leaving a trail of cord for anyone to follow can be a BAD idea.
Let’s don’t belabor the point. I’m just saying’ my struggles are far worse than a suicide bombers given our relative aspirations. One of us wants to die and kill innocent bystanders; while all I want is a warm cozy place to live that would be considered safe for a 2 year old by my daughter. If there is a God how could he/she refuse me? Being a suicide bomber is at best cowardly. To think they’re promised paradise and 72 virgins for murder and I get squat for life-long suffering has me conflicted! WHERE IS THE EQUITY??
Life my friends define you not a C-4 vest. I’ll take my virgins one at a time please.