Culture on the Cheap
Can you take me to Poopytown?
Yesterday the heavens opened up and spewed forth poo manna for Miss Heather. I was (and still am) very grateful, because I had to make a trip to the bank (which is not exactly one of my favorite places) to stop payment on a check that had not been presented in over TWO YEARS. I wasn’t too happy about being charged $15.00 to do this either. There is something very wrong about me spending one hour of my time, much less fifteen dollars to (re)solve a problem I did not cause. Oh well…
My mood brightened significantly on my ride home when I had the pleasure of meeting the V train Poo Man.
This reminds me of that blob thing from the Gigglesnort Hotel. I do not remember much from my early childhood, but I do remember watching this show. Many of my early days were spent in day care gaping at that diarrhea-esque semi-animate blob on the idiot box. Perhaps this sight imprinted itself on my subconsciousness somehow? This would shed some light on my proclivity for poop.
Regardless, that thing freaked me out then and it freaks me out now. Those of you who are old enough may remember the hysteria over LSD laden stickers in the mid-70’s. I do. My mother admonished me not to lick any stickers that had smiley faces on them, no matter how pretty they were. Yet, these same concerned parents let their young ones watch a television show that was the psychoactive eqivalent of a bag of shrooms. Go figure.
Ah the 70’s, gotta love ’em!