OMFG!!!! An Elephant was Killed!!!!

Blog originally posted on April 1, 2011

Taken from an article on AOL Small Business News:

Go Daddy founder and CEO Bob Parsons is not one to back down from a little controversy. The outspoken entrepreneur helped make his company a household name -- and the largest Internet domain registrar in the world -- with edgy Super Bowl commercials that have become perennial water-cooler fodder. Now, he finds himself in the crosshairs of the equally outspoken PETA and other animal-rights advocates over a graphic video he posted online, which depicts him shooting and killing an elephant in Zimbabwe. The video has already been viewed more than 300,000 times.
Parsons, a member of the AOL Small Business Board of Directors, says he was working with tribal authorities to prevent "problem elephant" from decimating crops, legally, and that the slain elephant provided food for impoverished villagers. PETA is leading the charge against Parsons, branding him the "Scummiest CEO of the Year," canceling its Go Daddy account and encouraging others to do the same. "Instead of coming up with flimsy excuses for killing these highly intelligent and social animals, Parsons should use his wealth to fund humane solutions to human/elephant conflicts," PETA said on its website.
"Things couldn't be better," Parsons said in an interview with AOL Small Business, deflecting the criticism and noting that the hunt not only helped feed Zimbabwean villagers and protect their crops -- but that the ensuing controversy will inevitably help Go Daddy too.
It's an interesting question for entrepreneurs, who are often the public faces of their companies and run the risk of alienating customers with their personal behavior, political views and the like. Parsons, for his part, isn't too worried. His advice? Be yourself, and when controversy strikes, keep being yourself.
Link to full article:
GoDaddy's Bob Parsons Brushes off Criticism over Elephant Killing

Picture of Parsons and the elephant he killed:

My opinion is...
I believe there's nothing wrong with Bob shooting this elephant for food. 
People do it here all of the time when they hunt; why is this different?

Also, what about all of the other animals that are pushed through the manufacturing line to be slaughtered viciously after being kept in deplorable environments and suffered every second since they were born? Why do people make such a huge deal over an elephant killed for food, when all of this is going on in our own country and nothing is being done about it? This is a cow being restrained just prior to slaughtering:

So go ahead and whine and complain about this elephant being shot to feed some hungry people while you shove another hamburger in your hole....go right ahead, you fucking idiot.

No One...

A writing challenge inspired by the below picture.

 No one will find me here…

I have found the perfect final resting place for my horrible flesh prison.

When I swallowed the pills as I was swathed in lovely vines, I knew that the earth and its inhabitants would enjoy me more than any human ever did.

I was done trying to be the delicious sweet woman for them.…those of whom.

Always failing in my attempts to be anyone’s…anything…

And now as my soul is in flight my minds eye will see how the creatures of this exquisite earth will appreciate my tenderness.

Birds and butterflies will visit and gaze at my magnificence.

My love for anything other than what is enveloped in flesh, will be my last offering in a solid existence.

Mother blowflies with a body color almost matching my chilled lips will find nourishment and shelter for their babies in my orifices; unlike the child that I failed to carry.

My body will expand with sweet gas and heat providing a safe wonderful haven for the masses that fill me.

My skin slides away like slippery thin ice providing needed oxygen for the children.

My blue cloak is now soaked with dark spots of watery slime.

The strong odor of decay will permeate the air, but no human will ever smell me, only creatures that can bathe in its bliss will be present.

My puddle that I’ve created is able to provide body-building enzymes to my little ones, and somewhere for them to swim in protection.

I am slowly seeping into Mother Earth as the days pass.

A migration is taking place and my fat happy children go free to pupate on their own.

The dry earth quenches a bit of its thirst with the last bit of my juices.

My bones are at rest.

The wind blows and creates a wave in my frock and drifts a wisp of my lovely auburn hair up into the distant sky.

At last I have been no one’s….something…

Originally Posted on June 25, 2011

The Bag

Please click play on the YouTube video below and listen to the song while you read the story.  The song actually inspired me to write it...

Monday morning I awake with my back hurting and my palms itching. I roll over on the foul mattress as I scratch my palms, and look out of the grimy window. All I see is another crumbly looking brick building and rain falling. To feel the heat of the summertime in this building is torturous, especially when it rains. The stench of mold and immorality saturates the air around me. I blink my eyes hard; trying to erase the sights and sounds from the night before to no avail. How did I get here? I ask myself this question every day.

I sit up stretch and slowly look around. A few empty faces and a few sleeping bodies. Soulless people-I hate people-all people. I don’t care what that ghetto quack of a doctor said. I do not have a mental illness. Just because I see those…faces. I tie my shoes and get up and stretch.

Do I smell that bad yet? I would smell better if I was circumcised. Damn my mother. And my dad used to always say “Put some clothes on, wash those feet!” When was the last time I bathed? I can’t remember, nor do I really care. I stand up, grab my cap and get ready to face another dead meaningless day. Maybe I’ll go find me a summer job….a preposterous thought.

I head towards the stairs while I think in my lazy mind about which dumpsters I would hit today. I was pretty hungry, so I figured I’d try to sneak in back of one of those restaurants that serve up those breakfasts on hot plates that people stuff into their bloated faces. I needed to hurry though or the flies and their maggots would get there first. I remember all too vividly the time when I bit into that sausage. It tasted so great until I felt those things squirming around in my mouth. I hit my mouth with the back of my hand and swallowed back some bile at the thought of it. Damn memories that fill my head. I was always having flashbacks. All rotten… nothing decent…the story of my life.

As I walk out of the building I decide to head to the east. The sky looked blacker in that direction.

 

I like black. Black is good. Black is the color that can block out things in my head if I really concentrate hard on the deep blackness. It can halt those flashbacks I have all too often. If I walk towards that black in the sky, maybe I will have a nice day; a black day. This thought makes me chuckle to myself as I shake my head.

So I walk and I walk and walk some more down the street in a numb daze when something suddenly grabs my ankle. Startled, I look down. Ugh! It’s a filthy old man. I shake my ankle but he holds tight. “Pleeeeeeeeezzze!” He says. “Please what?” I say as I squat down to his level, his hand still gripping my ankle firmly. I notice his eyes are two different colors like David Bowie’s.

Although Bowie had those different looking eyes cuz when he was a kid he got punched in the eye by someone wearing a ring, I thought to myself.  I wonder if this guy got punched in the eye too.

“Old man, please what??” I say with emphasis on how bothered I was. “Please, I need some help.” He desperately cried. And then he said. “I seen you, I seen your hands and they are good hands.”

What the hell is this guy absolutely nuts? “My hands are gross as shit and as boney as your butt cheek.” I say as I look down at them with my fingers spread wide.

The old man reaches up and grabs both of my hands hard and says “I’m in good hands; won’t you change my bag?” He reaches down and pulls up his stained t-shirt, and there it was the bag he spoke of. It was filled with thick bright green liquid and the bag was full, indeed. It looked really tight and just about ready to burst. What the hell was this guy? An alien? So I yelled. “Whaaaat? Your bag?? That’s about as funny as a bake sale; me changing your bag!”

“Please I am sad and helpless! Open this valve and change my bag!” He yelled. “That story is about as deep as your pocket change.” I retorted.

“It’s nice and warm, won’t you change my BAAAAAAG?!!!” He screamed. And I said. “That’s about as thick as the hair on your back, old man.” And with that I stood up to continue east towards the blackened sky as the old man continued to bellow towards me.

What a life that is mine. I filed this revolting encounter into my mind along with all of the countless others. Some day in the future, I will try to cover it with the black - the exquisite black…and those faces. 

Originally posted on August 18, 2010