The Ducky Blanket Scenario

While I was driving in to work today on a stretch of highway I always take, I had a flashback of the first dead body I have ever seen. Nothing really graphic, but that’s not what even caught my attention. As my friend Joe and I approached the scene, we saw the body on the side of the road, covered up with a blanket. Here’s the kicker: the blanket was not only too small to cover him completely, but it had little duckies all over it. DUCKIES! I mean, what the fuck, it’s bad enough the poor bastard dies, let the meatwagon take care of the rest. So what the fuck were the people with the blanket thinking? It was obviously a kid’s blanket, did they take it from their child? So now you’ve got 2 shitty situations; a bad wreck with one dead body, and a child, who is not only traumatized by the scene, but just got jacked for his favorite blanky. “Suck it up kid, life's full of disappointment.” The little fucker probably didn’t sleep for 3 days after that. Not only because of the wreck and shit, but he was cold! But back to the ducky blanket. So the last thing people will remember the dead guy by, is that he was covered with a ducky blanket. Fucked up. And you know the people didn’t have the heart to say where the blanky came from, so now everybody’s thinking the guy who died owned it. Even more fucked up. Did I mention the guy was a biker of some sort? Yeah, way to fuck up a man’s image. At the man’s wake, people are probably like, “too bad, I mean about the ducky blanket.” Damn, he’s not even able to protect his dignity. That’s bullshit. I understand the people’s point of view for using the blanket, but you could at least think about your actions before you follow through. Yeah, you’re dead. I’m sure you don’t care much. That’s not the point. Even when you die you can’t get any rest, at least your name doesn’t. 20 years can go by, and that ducky blanket will still be in everybody’s memory. Fuck that. If I ever die, and you find me on the side of the road, either bury me or let the birds eat me. Put a ducky blanket on me and I promise I’ll haunt you till your dying days.

So here we go.....

Yup. I finally did it. I made a fucking online diary. Never thought I would, but I finally realized one important thing: People read shit online more than they are willing to listen in person. People don't care. Can't say I blame them. I don't care. Do I really want to hear about how shitty traffic was for you, or how some old lady cut in front of you at the grocery store? If you were driving a tank and decided to take an "alternate route", or if you choke slammed the old lady and kicked her toy poodle out of her purse, maybe. If not, sorry, I'm not interested. Why? Because I'm insensitive? No. Because I'm not willing to sympathize with you? No. It's the simple fact that this shit happens everyday, to people across the globe. Why is your story so much better than the next? It's not. Mine are not. I needed a place to compile my thoughts of today's society as a whole, where you can visit if you want, or stay the fuck out. I don't care. I'm not going to warn you that I'm a vulgar, foul-mouthed motherfucker with not one sensitive bone in my body. I'll let you figure that out on your own.