12.12.1993

I am unhappy because my un-cool room mate Jerry is still here at B Street. He was going to be moving out at the end of this month but he changed his mind. My pal, Senor Random was going to replace Jerry. I was really looking forward to that. I do not like Jerry. I do not like his friends. I do not like the music that Jerry’s band plays. The music is 1970s crap. I do not like the fact that they are always occupying the livingroom couches watching old 70s sitcoms on TV for days at a time. I hate the entire decade of the Seventies more than anything else I’ve ever hated in my life. I will carry a grudge against that horrible decade until the day I die. I lived through that miserable ten years and I remember it all too well. It was truly worthless. Out of every decade this century, the 1970s were truly the low point. Why some people are so fascinated with it I’ll never know, but I sure think they are dumb for it. It was pure trash. I guess these kids aren’t old enough to have lived through those years so they don’t know how truly stupid everyone looked back then. It seems it’s becoming popular with the trendy crowd to dress up in disco clothes. They look like they are wearing a costume. A bad costume. People looked ridiculous then, and they look just as ridiculous now dressed up in that junk. Maybe even more so. Victims, they are.

My hope is that Jerry will move out of here soon. Real soon. Realistically, he will have to move out in the near future because financially I can’t figure out how he can afford rent. He doesn’t have a job. These hippies are all alike. They dress like slobs, their women are ugly (and hairy), none of them are gainfully employed, they seem to live for stinky incense, smoke enough dope to kill a small dog, and yet they live. Why is this? They must be like cockroaches. Not even lethal doses of radiation will kill them.

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~ by factorypeasant on September 24, 2004.

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