Erstwhile Muse

Mail man of the dead, and hiring speakers.

I'll admit, for the most part I haven't put a whole lot of effort into thinking about the whole supposed immigration crisis facing our country, mostly because I don't yet see it in terms of a crisis. Most of the time, I could care less if some immigrant (legal or not) wants to come and take a shit job that Americans won't work for the level of pay being offered.

That of course is, as long as it doesn't interfere with the swift acquisition of my coffee, especially if I haven't yet had any of said nectar. Such was not the case this morning as I staggered to Burger King for seared animal flesh, chicken ovum and grated tubers to accompany the much need java.

Corporate America, here's my free tip to you this morning—if you have a shift of workers to cover your morning hours at a fast food establishment, for fuck's sake do not put the person with the weakest grasp on the English language on the fucking register. Hire whomever you want as far as I'm concerned, but do not make me deal with that sort of shit in a precaffeinated haze.

Luckily for those needing to deal with me for the rest of the day, my immediate thoughts of a little corporate restructuring via explosives were lost in a mixture of rapid caffeine intake and my sheer amusement at the sight of a mail truck pulling out of the cemetary across the street. Logically, I know that there is an office located on the cemetary grounds, and it was to the living that mail was being delivered to, but I couldn't help but let out a little cheesy, late-night-horror-movie-marathon inspired Mailman...of the DEAD.

What can I say, between that and They Ate—a note on Lee's refrigerator pertaining to the cats but in which I insist lies a perfect movie title—I'm jonesing for some decent zombie themed entertainment. I should probably get off my butt and get in contact with the folks doing The Book of The Dead, I wouldn't mind being in another low grade B movie production....

Labels: language, random, undead