Like a Man

INTRODUCTION We the people Most books want to inspire happiness or self-help on how to become a millionaire even though you work part time at some crappy grocery store that claims it organic. I’m looking at you Whole Foods. Not this book, I’m trying to spread the word of hate. I represent all of the angry people out there who look at life in a bit of a twisted and cynical way. I represent you; Middle aged guy who is a skilled craftsman at his profession who has to answer to that runty kid half his age who just got out of college and his dad knows just enough people to grab him this gig. Yea, sure, you might be a bit of an alcoholic with an online gambling problem, but damn it I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist. I represent you; Guy who drives 90’s pickup truck with non-working AC. I know how hot it gets on a summer day in New Orleans. I know the frustration of when all you want to do is light that ciggy after a long day of work and hit the 7-11 for a tall boy before heading home, but you can’t quite do that because there’s traffic. And it’s raining and your stuck choosing between getting soaked while lighting that ciggy or closing the window and taking that heat as if it was a torture chamber. You bet your ass you crack that window a bit and light that fucking cigarette and crank the radio. I represent you; Overweight chick, who always gets overlooked by her male co-worker when inviting people out for drinks after work. Yea sure, he’s a bit of a douche but even bigger for not inviting you out. Instead, he invites the cute blonde Ashley from accounting. Little does he know, she has a thing for black guys and never gets drunk at bars. But you, you pound beer like a champ while bellying up for some street fries. Did I mention you don’t expect him to pay the bill and would most likely offer a hand-job in the company parking lot? He’ll never know you use moisturizer just for this very moment. I represent you; College kid who has it tough in college and thinks the world is out to get them….Actually I don’t represent you. Get your act together and become one of these other people I represent. I represent you; Forty-year-old divorcee. Yeah, it’s a weekend, and you were looking forward to watching the game in peace while taking a hit of the bowl in your one bedroom apartment. But it’s your weekend and the fact you can make that ex-wife of yours drive twenty minutes out of her way on a Friday makes it all the worth it. Until she meets you with her new younger Latin boyfriend in his leased BMW and they are talking about restaurants you’ve never heard of in a language that is almost unrecognizable. I represent you; Old racist man drinking Busch cans on your porch. The world came at you fast and you should have sold that house years ago when the market hit its peak. Now you’re stuck watching a bunch of fake smiles running around your neighborhood like a little maze. But now you have grandkids, and God knows you’re not moving in with your daughter and her second husband and his two kids. Plus, in confidence, you do like to watch some late night infomercials every once in a while with some baby wipes next to your recliner. So you keep the house and watch the world around you drift. But when that day comes and your neighbor comes up to your porch and that empty beer can is sitting next to you and they ask “Sir, were starting a clean project in the neighborhood and would love to help you recycle your cans” you simply reply, fuck off All in all, I represent you the people who look at this world and really think to yourself, how the hell have I made it this far with all of these idiots around me. Fear not my confidant, we are here. So the next time you get stuck behind some simpleton in an SUV in the right lane of a red light and that genius pulls out slowly and makes the right when the light turns green. Know that you are not alone in wanting to kill them. Angry lives matter