JD is surrounded by beautiful punk and progressive women. JD is angry because he has no hope of performing the sex act with any of them except maybe fer drugs. JD is like Jake in The Sun Also Rises except that his impotence is born of whisky instead of war. JD tattoos himself in hopes that the insidious ink gun will instill in his sagging corpse some virility. JD�s hostility and aggression have become pedantic and of course predictable.

When I saw JD at karaoke last night I knew he would be a dick by the end of the night. I knew that his presence alone there meant that he would have to justify actually being at karaoke by making some sort of scene. Making a scene is really his only talent. Sure, he can yell a little. Any 40-year-old boy who listens to The Misfits and is mildly worth his ink can yell. I knew he would eventually be an asshole after copious amounts of whisky to make up for the fact that the sober JD sang �You�re The One That I Want� with a grrrl at his table in hopes that he would later get in her pants yet wouldn�t know what to do once he was there. How throwing packets of mayonnaise at sweet supple and nubile young DS to somehow avenge Johnny Cash is beyond me. I guess he must have left the switchblade at home last night. DS! Can you believe it? He�s such a sweet guy. We met when he bought me a glass of wine after my wallet was stolen at Charlie�s a few years ago. Didn�t put roofies in it either. That�s the kind of guy you wanna take to jail to meet Mom. He doesn�t deserve mayo and relish thrown at him just because his tattoos and 12-inch erection with a cheeseburger on the end of it aren�t showing while he�s singing �Ring of Fire.� And I would give props to JD for throwing those particular condiments if I thought he knew he was suggesting DS a wiener. But I know he had no idea. He was just a noodle dick flapping in the wind.

I wouldn�t complain about this minor thing (ok yes I would) except that I�m tired of these humans who turn their sad little state out on everyone else and it�s so obvious. At least go home and turn the blade on yourself like the rest of us self-respecting self-loathers. Jesus.

The thing is, JD has always pissed me off. The people JD hangs out with have always pissed me off. Even his ex-girlfriend crept over at the Lava Lounge and drank Brent�s whisky on the quiet after last call. Once I saw JD whisper something to a mean looking grrrl who in response dumped my friend Abe�s beer all over his lap. JD inspires fury in me. Hell, I�m angry half the time anyway�I can only imagine how I�d be if I were old and tired with a noodle dick in place of my once robust squash with good form and color. I guess in light of his past throwing condiments could be considered playful�a fun little rouse; a romp with JD and friends. I�m just glad I got to be a part of it so I can tell my grandchildren. �Who are you talking about, Granny?� Exactly.

Anyway. I am as usual on Wednesdays hung over to all get out. I sit in my hoodie and hope things close to the sentiment of the song �Tomorrow.� Betcherbottomdollarthattomorrow/there�ll be sun/cobwebs and the sorrow/and all that. Haha! Now you�ll be singing it all day. At least my aggression is interesting and while at times passive, doubly insidious. :-D

I need to go lie (lay? STRUNK, HELP ME) down.