Hey, Nature

      Hey nature, what’s up? I couldn’t help but notice that tornado you threw our way. Listen, we need to talk. I’ve been noticing a lot of passive aggressiveness from you lately, and I just can’t take it anymore. Hurricanes, Tornados, Tropical depressions, Artic recessions, Temperate therapeutic sessions, Al Gore; they’re all just cheap ploys to get attention. We had our time together, and you were crap. Even you have to admit that we had serious problems with our relationship. First there was the whole snake and garden fiasco. Then you hung us out to dry while we tried to figure out fire. Now if it’s not a natural disaster you’re bugging us with, it’s some horrible plague that’s poised to make our spleens explode. Just so you know, after 3 times, it’s an empty threat, and I’m not even sure if I need a spleen. All we wanted was public nudity, booze, and paradise. Now, thanks to you, we have just 2 out of those 3, and politics.

     So we off some lame endangered species of keebler-night-elf or whatever and then you throw a pissy fit. Let me tell you, I had a friend who knew a keebler-night-elf biologist, and it sounds like they got what they deserve. Do all animals really have to be worth saving? After all, it seems like you’re pretty willing to off us. I’ve figured you out, Nature. You’re jealous. We’ve moved on to bigger and better things, and you’re jealous.  
     You want attention so you get hippies up in arms about melting polar bears. You would sink so low as to associate with those dirty jam band groupies, but hippies don’t know what I know. Those polar bears would have gladly eaten baby Jesus. Yeah, not so “Cute” now, are they? Who would eat a baby? I’ll tell you who would; Polar bears: public enemy #1.
Since school is in session, I’m going to drop some knowledge on your omnipresent behind.    
      The U.S. ranks number one in the world for cocaine use and obesity. Surprise! We down so many Big Macs, we need most of the world’s gas for all the trips to McDonalds, and then we snort most of the world’s cocaine to stay awake for all the trips, and we’re still fat. Yeah, we’re kind of a big deal. We’re a nation of fat cokeheads, and we’ve got the bomb. Multiple bombs, in fact I’ll go so far as to say we have a lot of bombs; a plethora. That’s right; our twitching, chubby finger is inches away from the button, and Taco Bell just closed.

     So go ahead, keep pushing us. Throw your little flamboyant wind storms. We’ll be in the concrete, underground McDonald’s wearing flashy white suits, figuring out ways to make our IROC-Z Camaros run on radioactive Styrofoam and condor eggs. All we have to do is to get around to doing it. You exist at our mercy…apathy….mercapathy. 

    All that applies to your buttmonkey sister, Existence, also. Have you seen the PS3? Are you kidding me? I can beat up hookers without getting off the sofa. I can play the guitar without even owning one. I can drink and drive without having to go through the actual work of getting drunk and driving. After that, I can have a drink to reward myself. Nature, you have less of a chance than all those Polar bears I’ve seen up close on my 42 inch Sanyo LCD Hi-Def. The picture is so crisp you can actually see the bear’s pending doom.

    Well that’s it; I’m washing my hands of you. I’m going to wait here, play post apocalyptic video games, and wait for moon colonies, or enlightenment, or whichever comes first.