Tag Archives: mcdonalds

Discombobulated Thoughts

I am the faceless co-blogger. I was born in July 1988. Ever wonder what that day was like when you were born? What bills were signed into law? Who died? Who else was born? Who was imprisoned and why? Who was let out of prison? What was the first item of clothing they bought when they got out prison? I don’t know.

This is a glimpse of freedom. From the near rooftop balconies overlooking the barbed wire and raw, grey brick structures came the echo of laughter, shouting, clinging of the baton batting against the iron bars, and the sharing of a bouquet of flowers to one man surrounded by family walking the long outdoor corridor to the sidewalks. Dirty streets littered with McDonalds styrofoam tea cups, half-empty Bud Light beer cans–two divergent examples of childhood and adulthood rolling toward the gutter to be entangled in the sewage treatment plants farther down river. August 1990 city blocks from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, where a year earlier, Yusuf Hawkins never bought his first car. Pronounced dead on the scene, paramedics started the clean-up process that would never be bleached clean, never be swept tidily outside, that one spot on the street never sanitized. Sanitation workers picked up trashcans and emptied them into the truck, while early morning risers walked their dogs, fuming that violence came to their streets.

Ian didn’t hear any of it except from inside the walls of barren brick. Bensonhurst called its son back home. The storm arose from the angry depths of a populace tired from hot muggy Brooklyn summers, violence for no reason, and a city shifting. In January, Al Sharpton would be stabbed; but now, Ian walked with his mother and two cousins to the parking lot. Two years for stealing a tv from an family down the street when they weren’t home. Perhaps it was  a blessing he’d left his knife at home. Locked up for stealing a television. He just wanted to give his brother a good gift for his birthday. Oddly, the family said keep the television but still go to prison.

The ride home, stoplight, go, stoplight, go, stoplight go. He thought of the upper bay and how he wished to have a sailboat. Sailing toward the water, away from Bensonhurst, sailing from the storm he was riding into. No one knew the riots that migrated to the West Coast a two years from now. When Ian was little he wanted to teach, to teach math. School didn’t taught him nothing, except the basic laws of supply and demand, until his best friend, Ryan, was shot and killed outside the 7/11 on the corner while he waited for the bus back to Bensonhurst. That Monday back at school felt empty and silent for him. He just wanted to get home, lock his bedroom door and read more of Adam Smith.  Who knew much about this fat, white man from years ago? Ian liked what he had to say, but every once in a while, something hit close to home.

“The interest of the dealers, however, in any particular branch of trade or manufactures, is always in some respects different from, and even opposite to, that of the public. To widen the market and to narrow the competition, is always the interest of the dealers.”

All he could think about was the paramedics and the white sheet on the corner just past the 7/11. From then on, he visited Ryan’s grave every year on his birthday to bring him some cokes and oatmeal cookies, they’re favorite snack as they waved to the girls walking by their stoop.

On the ride home, they stopped by the Gas Mart to get cokes, and Ian grabbed a stuffed oatmeal cookie. He asked them to drop him off at the library, claiming he needed some time to himself before he saw the rest of the family;  and he would walk home when it closed. Reluctantly, they did so. He walked through the aisles of books till he found Smith. “Nothing but the most exemplary morals can give dignity to a man of small fortune.” He had to give something back.

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Finger Condoms.

Why the title you ask? Because you will click it duh.

Have you ever noticed that at the bottom of french fry boxes, there are little tiny slivers of french fries hiding.. they’re always at the bottom too. Has anyone ever wondered how they got there? It makes no sense to me.. Like do McDonalds people just fuck up while making them and put them in there to like make your life just a little worse? Or does the government put little edible cameras in there? I guess it wouldn’t matter because no one eats them.They always taste weird. You’d think because they’re less dense that they would be on the top.. Or maybe that only works with fluids? Yeah whatever. I don’t like them. I am going to put a stop to these tiny evil fries. Rant over but I have a lot of notes, thoughts and convos to get through.

  • I want to create a little grabber thing that holds onto an Oreo so that when you dip it in milk, your fingers don’t have to touch the milk AND you can get the whole cookie in the milk
  • Me: Wright sir, right sir, write sir lol. Ben: Did the right Wright write directions on how to fly this thing? Me: Yes, the right Wright wrote the directions on how to fly the thing. But the wrong Wright couldn’t read what was written by the right Wright and therefore made popcorn right?
  • Reverse Corn-dogs.
  • Marijuana does lead to harder stuff…
    Like trying to look inconspicuous carrying a plate of spaghetti topped with gummy bears at a cafe…
  • I’m not sexist because sexism is wrong. And being wrong is for women. I’m not racist because racism is a crime. And crime is for black people.
  • Remember the term Ten dollar burger.
  • Headquarters… you spelled rape dungeon wrong.
  • I guess you guys need something to visually stimulate you so here is a random picture I took of a sailboat.

I call it work hard and play hard. Don’t ask why cause I don’t know why. Anyhow, I need you guys to like us on Facebook and name the burger that is the profile picture. If you need to think it’s detrimental to my health, so be it. Read the last post to know what I’m talking about. “If you name it, you can’t eat it”. So get that done if you don’t mind.

I’m done with this post but I want to let you know that all the links below WordPress said were related articles to this post and I find them semi-entertaining. So that means you should click and read as well.

Oh Yea, Name my burger bitches…

FIN!

Kotton!