Stick Men With Ray Guns-Some People Deserve to Suffer

I live in a horizontally split duplex. Previous tenants have prided themselves on their discreetness to the point that it was difficult to tell when they were home. Not so with this current clan of sub-mongoloid, big foreheaded chuds. So this year's thank you goes out to them. Firstly, to the mom: thank you for keeping your loose flaps open long enough to pump out six future gas station attendants. I'm so glad that they never let me sleep for more than 4 hours a day. The constant, synchronized cry sessions are always a joy. This weekend the normal three miscreants are away, so the b team (seen only once a year, mind you) is in town. One of these kids (hope someone breaks your face soon) was playing a god damn saxophone. A fucking saxophone, at like 8 in the morning. Don't get me wrong. I know kids are kids and they need to do kid things. It's just that these kids are actually lousy kids. Genuinely stupid cry babies. Kids who think throwing a rock at my window (didn't break (nice arm pussy)) is a form of entertainment (again, while I'm sleeping) make me wish a mating license was required. And more thanks goes to their stupid hick dad. Everyday, you remind me of just how stupid a goatee looks. Why not have your slut take a dump and then sit on your mouth? Really, it'll look about the same.

So here's some Stick Men With Ray Guns. Slow, hate filled punk of the Texas persuasion. It makes sense that these guys were familiars with Butthole Surfers. Bobby Soxx always ruled.

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