He looks like a hardcore fatso, the he-goat. That mother had to suffer giving birth that bale, sonofabitch, apologies to his rents, and we criticize abortion, after a scandalous criminal recidivism, now under arrest, tomorrow back in the ends. Blood is warming. I watch his picture here in front and it’s not bringing the most peaceful night. Vexed typing this, and his hungry ape image is dully annoying, a clumsy and dangerous animal, cocky and aggressive, going down in history because the demagoguery and the shamelessness of the shysters, Cainites bastards American way, every one from their father and their mother who calved them. Justice as a joke, judges passed by the bisectrix of his hams, they won’t marry anyone, you know, TV’s there, blameless for the audience, classic, so he can keep doing damage, his house full of artillery, the little angel, with impunity, he also has rights and a little heart and all that farce. Then, the tide of cases of honest citizens, those who are crucify while offenders get away, be amazed, or be not: no more justice than that you can purchase. Almost kills her, already killed one, but no, we won’t take away his rights, running over this helpless bastard, depriving him of the presumption of innocence, 9,000 bucks and out of the pen, goes without saying, standard. Big Brother’s justice always rigging, engineering alibis, justifications: Not Honor I didn’t rape her, I trip over and shove it in her, That’s what I thought Mr. Defendant, you can go home, This has caused me a emotional problem I can’t tell, Nothing man, some personal therapy and back to your loose leg sleeping, Thanks Honor… Indisputable to the absurd. Laughter? at first, which is then going freezing. Total he didn’t kill many, one at best, a black, standard; women? none, the missus has been a misunderstood close call. The truth is that we are becoming more stupid. Shouldn’t generalize? Should I refine it? Okay, you are becoming more stupid. No. I’d generalize, it’s my blog. I, you, me. All of us, heads. Some actively, some passively. Some exercising as consistent assholes in all their glory, and others, next men, by keeping quiet to avoid problems, by consent, by swallowing it back, up, bent —needed accomplices— with or without Vaseline. Children slaughtered and blood? What horror! How inappropriate! How inconsiderate to show some pictures of marinated children in the last Syria killing fields! Showing corpses is hype. And this Zimmerman huddy? No man, that’s different, that doesn’t hurt our sensitivity, just café time reality, sordid voyeurism for all audiences, ordinary phonology, the one that turn most of us on, the kind that doesn’t hurt the sensitivity of those who don’t have it. Shakespeare’s Mark Anthony begins his famous funeral speech referring several times to Brutus as “a noble man”. And the plebs, fickle, but not completely imbecile, ends capturing the sense of his irony and want to make mincemeat out of the assassin. Put another way, the reading comprehension of the Romans was in this case, and broadly, appropriate. Here, now, we are said that we should presuppose Zimmerman’s innocence, again and again, and our reading incomprehension leaves us as panchos, and him squalaying in the street. Now imagine that you are in the Sub, texting on your galasi or as they write it, or reading a post —mine I hope—, and you find this dred, picture, I’m telling you, that instead giving him air, carried by a native drive you mutiny and chock him a bash … constructed already? … Good. Well, now imagine the amount of a brown thing you’re going to eat thereupon: You turnip-faced when a load of caps arrive in their crafts, and then, screwed, you start flashing with the carnival assembled: Assault to a well-dressed chubby, famous on the top. You already gasping. And as the thing happens in the Metro, with metropolitaneity and treachery aggravating. Outcome: several days switched in the corral as there is a god —although there’s not—, the mailbox full of legal literature for the next decades, lawyers, solicitors, court costs, fees, fines, surcharges, levies, scorn, punishment and corrective public chastisement, payments for injuries, psychological damage and lost wages, freezing of assets [if you have some left after the shysters], eternal joke for friends, for asshole, deep hatred of the missus, for asshole, the dwarves’ shame, the poor bastards, and associates, reh teh teh, reh teh teh. And you can hit your head with a flint, say thank you, Thank you Mr. Judge, if you fall under two years pen to move the nape back-and-forth and make the little car’s exhaust to avoid the chin checks, with the technicality that if it were me, I’ll do breaking news, safe, for conceited blogger and slimy anarchist.
Well, patience, there are pains that don’t go away with Ibuprofen, none of C-4, life has these pirouettes and some others, composure. A burner and phlegm. Lots of phlegm. And let’s see if the rudeboi is one day shitting with the wrong madman, of the rough progeny, neither gyaldems nor minors, for my peace of mind. So, as it should be. And I can see it.
Zimmerman – By Dugutigui