When Hippies Attack!
(The story you're about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the identities of nut-sack rubbing Hippies who should be killed on general principle.)
So I'm on my way to the neighborhood recycling and smugness reproduction center. I have to take my old red Chevy truck because I don't want empty scotch bottles leaking all over my other carbon-producing gas guzzler. I also have to take my 160 year old Boxer dog Mojo because if he doesn't get to go bye-bye he punishes me by pretending to be deaf and faking a bladder problem.
There I am, putting the green glass in the green glass container, plastics in the plastics container, ad nauseum...even to the point of taking the little caps off... when I'm approached by a young, blonde hippie wearing her vest of environmental importance (apparently some kind of uniform allowing for statutory condesencion). She asks me if I can turn my truck off while I'm laboring to give free resources to an evil corporation disguised as an environmental charity affair.
Now I'm not all THAT bad of a guy. I'm really only ugly to people I know, people who offend me, and people I don't know. That's all. So naturally I respond to this little cookie-cutter Janis Joplin with, "Sure. Can I ask why?" Her response was telling: "Well...we, like, just want to keep it clean, you know."
Okay, smug alert (thank you, South Park). Number one, I consider her approach to be a form of discrimination against Appalachian Americans. Number two....I'm standing in the middle of twelve dumpsters full of GARBAGE! And Ms. Aspen wants me to turn off my truck because it's...like.....not clean, you know.
Without rancor or argument, because after all I can only hate her at this point on general principle and not on the personal level that I prefer, I mention that my dog is in the truck and I leave the A/C running so that he doesn't die....after he eats my boxed lunch in the front seat. There was no pain across Hippie's face. There was no flusterment at the paradox she found herself in, torn between Earth First and P.E.T.A. No, it was about power and she stuck to her guns because THIS little piece of planet....hers, I might add and basically a trash dump with a fence around it anyway...was going to be clean. No global warming on her watch. I tried to placate her by emphasizing how much I detest using toilet paper in public restrooms because of deforestation (when out and about I simply wipe myself with my hand and then sign "Cheryl Crow" on the mirror with it). She wasn't buying it...nor would she let me use her restroom this time!
Luckily, the dog survived after I turned off the engine. Which is a good thing because if he hadn't I would have carried his 80 pound carcass around the recycling center yelling "Where do you put the dead animals killed by hippies?". So Mojo lived and I aquiesced. The only real victim in this affair was the hippie herself. She insulted my truck and endangered my dog. For this she and all hippies must pay. They must answer for the power-grab fraud of global warming. They must answer for the success of Berkenstocks, Inc. and the pervasive trend of a chin "soul patch". They must be brought to task for inciting motor-murder on the highways by looking smug behind the wheel of their Prius...Prius's....Prii. Whatever. You know, those little clown cars that plug into their own cigarette lighter socket.
And I have the solution, finally (ahem): support global warming.
Think about it. It can't affect Texas because it's already cooked and heat waves with dust storms are referred to as "fair skies" there. It can only benefit Missouri by simmering off the 112% humidity we experience 8 months out of the year. And best of all, it enriches me personally in a very real and financial sense. You see, after investing heavily in Exxon I took the $12 billion I made from selling 3 shares and bought vast tracts of real estate in Greenland and northern Canada. It will be the new paradise when the planet finally reaches well-done, and I will be the Emperor. The entire border of my new domain will be raised as a wall of remediated asbestos (sacked in biodegradable bags, of course), making it impervious to infantry assault. The skies above my perfect world will be blackened by the day-and-night endless burning of mountains of worn out tires, thwarting any threat from the skies. And nobody can tunnel in or under because of my implementation of the Ozark/Hillbilly Wastewater Recycling program which legally authorizes for use as septic tanks half-buried, rusty 50 gallon drums with 30.06 holes shot through them. My nation will be, in a word, impregnable.
But best of all will be the carnivores. Tens of millions of wild dogs, man-eating bears and tigers, poisonous snakes vicious anteaters armed with T.O.W. missiles will be released into the wild. And they'll have a taste for hippie (a little trick I learned by feeding carnivores in captivity overpriced all natural grains and lentils. Pisses 'em off something fierce!). These carnivores, after being very well fed on wandering hordes of hippies I have lured there with rumors of Woodstock XXVII, will then be hunted, slaughtered and shipped to steak houses gratis. It's the circle of life, and I'm only doing my part.
You see, the mighty hippie, once at the top of the food chain, will rightly takes its place as a crucial link IN the food chain. The bears will eat the hippies, then shit hippie (I may or may not make use of this all-natural byproduct for any future bathroom graffiti...unless I'm in a Starbuck's where my conscience compels me to do so). The hippies then become part of the planet they love, as they always wanted. But best of all is that some residual hippie will remain in the bear, then go to the steak house, then go in my mouth and then take the proper exit, and perhaps also join the ranks of my annals (ahem) of professional writing.
But I am not a selfish man. I don't do this thing for myself, but for all of us. And now, as my anger begins to boil over, I can tell you why the hippie must die.
WHERE WERE THE HIPPIES THE DAY KENNEDY WAS SHOT?
WHERE WERE THE HIPPIES THE DAY THE TWIN TOWERS FELL?
WHERE WERE THE HIPPIES WHEN BARBARA STREISAND BEGAN TO TOUR AGAIN?
(oh, wait - they were at the event, just like the Kyoto Accord. Doesn't matter, it's still high treason.)
AND WHERE, PRAY TELL, WERE THE HIPPIES WHEN THEY CANCELLED BATTLESTAR GALACTICA, HUH? TELL ME!
I'll tell you where. Plotting. Planning. Attending movies at Cannes about gay cowboys eating pudding. And executing their nefarious designs, hippie-ing all the while.
By the way, this also solves the problem of my intense hatred for the half-hippie, that weak weekend psuedo hippie who talks the talk but can't walk the sandalled walk. I will use the proceeds from asbestos remediation to commence an evangelistic marketing strategy convincing all psuedo hippies to actually adopt their "pure" faith and stand next to their ilk in full-blown hippie-ness. Then they too will join the circle of life in my paradise, my heaven on earth, my Garden of Eden so lucrative it'll make the Mormons drool.
And I will call this world....New Kent State.
posted by The Daily Warren at 11:07 AM
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