Evil is an acronym (T to the A to the P to the S!)

Finals: one to go.

Despite this happy fact, my current state is declining. Ha! The Latin humor never really gets old. Actually, I should say my current state is inability to decline, because I screwed that part up on the final.

So yeah, one to go but bitterness is still distending.

In other words, TAPS can suck it. Those bastards gave me a parking ticket for parking "over space line." Which, ok, was maybe a little bit true, but only by about two damn inches. Yeesh. Get a life, parking officer #15, whoever you might be. Go have a beer with that obnoxious new bike cop that UCD recently invested in who sits there in his shorts with his little clicky siren thingy, and lighten the hell up.

You know, I think it's really awesome that he gets paid to sit there and not do shit while our student fees get jacked up by a thousand dollars without much of a second thought.

Way to get the priorities worked out.

But hey, who needs money, anyway, right? It's not like there's anything else I might possibly need to spend $40 on.

Urgh.

People suck. Transportation vehicles suck. TAPS sucks. The word suck kind of sucks. I had a teacher in high school who found it highly-offensive, actually. Not entirely sure why, but it was not to be used in the classroom unless referring to a vacuum. Now, I don't quite so vehemently despise the word as she did, but I do seem to overuse it. It just seems to convey the point so much more quickly and more accurately than saying, oh my, people and bike cops and the TAPS parking gestapo are all just so disdainfully unpleasant. Might they not go engage in another activity than causing financial grief to already-pecuniarily-depleted college students?

See what I mean? Just not quite the same terse, stinging ring to it as suck.

I think the only answer is teleportation. Someone out there maybe wanna get on that? Because that'd be grand.

So anyway, as a cure for the intense bitterness that is so pervasive, and as a way to stop complaining about the extraordinary amount of suckage that humanity somehow manages to encompass at times, and as a celebration of finals almost being over, have some bad spontaneous poetry (straight from my bitter, TAPS-ticketed-and-tainted soul):

too tired to write any-thing of
any-particular weight
(weight like gravitas not
like the fat that ought to be
trimmed from
the lopping girth
of all the weightless words
of all the weightless minds
and the weightless feeling
and the weightless talking
about feeling
and all that drips off
after the roasting [you
should have carved more
thoroughly];
this is fat this is
blubber and it won't
keep you warm
you are no whale
you are a cold
you are a cold one
who wails)

this is brain-drain
hyphenated-brain-drain, actually
(more deliciously exhausting
than the tired norm
of the drained brain [so
plain (so [in]sane) so lame
such pain])

what are you thinking,
pained drained brain?
can you even think through
the bubbling fat
can you even comprehend
over the deafening suck
the suck of the draining
of the brain
there is no brain but
the pained brain
and no suck but post-
drain clog this brain
is clogged that brain
is clogged it would seem
all brains are clogged
with fat with
unmelting fat solid fat
repulsive fat hard fat
stringy fat in teeth
should've bought lean
should've bought thoughtless
meat or meat without a
brain oh it might be bland
but so so much easier to
swallow: in through the maw
down the drain
poor brain poor pain
poor pained brain
all fat no trim
clogged clogged clogged