Are You there, God? It’s me, asshole

Look: I know I’m kind of an asshole. Just ask Pistol Whip, if you want to check my double-stuff. But it’s not my fault. How else am I supposed to act, when I’m this hot, this brilliant, and STILL WAITING for God to explain to me why He put me on this earth? Wouldn’t you get a wee bit frustrated if you were in my position? Every morning I look in the mirror and tell myself, “Fuckdamn, Lefty! Looking sharp. Looking good.” I flex my incredible biceps, turn and look at my sweet little ass. While I brush my teeth, each thought in my mind is a glistening drop of perfection, easing with tantalizing slowness into the gigantic conflagration of my mind. Do I sound like an asshole yet? I don’t think so. I think I just sound like a luscious piece of medium-rare meat. Unfortunately when I bare my teeth they’re about two inches long, filed to points, and dripping blood, but c’est la vie.

Another thing I ask God: Why can’t You send me a dude who actually likes to fuck? Why they always got to make it so complicated? I’m sick of the moody dudes, the half-gay dudes, the scaredy-cats. Or the dudes who are put off when I make my trademark snap judgments:

“Golden retrievers are assholes.”
“I don’t like lats.”
“Flowers are stupid.”
“I hate jazz.”
“Murakami sucks.”

I say “I hate jazz” about once a week. I don’t WANT to say it; I’m FORCED to. And there’s always some jazzbo guy around who feels the need to say, “You don’t mean that.”

Oh, don’t I? The only snap judgment I’ve ever had to take back was about the new/old Reigning Sound album, Home for Orphans. When I first listened to it, I went around telling everyone how much it sucked. (Asshole!) I felt the same as one William T. Workman, of Dallas, Texas: “…this isn’t a proper ‘album.’ It’s an odds n’ sods collection of unreleased material and reworked live cuts.”

But eventually, I got to the point with Home for Orphans (“Pretty Girl”! “What Could I Do?”!) where I was listening to it twice a day. That’s when I knew I’d have to issue my first-ever retraction, which I did to anyone who would listen.

Sometimes I wish God would just crack my skull open like a Brazil nut, pick out the meat he wants, and cast the shell aside. Somedays I wish I’d been born a cretin. Or a trainable. But instead, all of this awesomeness is just emanating in ho-hum waves across the universe. By the time some equally awesome assholes pick it up on their twisty-knob-things in some other equally lame asshole solar system, I won’t be around. None of us will. In fact, this planet will be a speck of dust itself, tick tick ticking across outer space.

So, God, are you still listening? You’re an idiot. I rue the day we ever made you up, you pathetic excuse for everything.

by Left Hook | 11 February 2007 | assholes | Comments