Television News Zombies

Yes, there was an accident on the freeway—some soon-forgotten buffoon is dead because he can’t drive a car, or because he was too busy texting some idiot woman he will never screw again in his apartment amidst a sea of Pizza Hut boxes and Coors longnecks. Let’s mourn this stranger together as a rail-thin, makeup-caked woman with a name like something from an alternative universe ran by the soft porn industry’s elite feigns sympathy.

Yes, in the fun and colorful world of professional sports, men in little matching outfits hit and caught different shaped balls, scored points, made goals, touchdowns and many other really exciting things that grown men were paid millions of dollars to do. These things of course being the same things they did as children while their parents wiped their noses and bandaged their boo-boos. The crowd goes wild, now so can you on your fucking couch in your underwear.

Wouldn’t you know it? Some goddamn or other thing occurred in the stock market and people are talking. Experts are consorting with experts. There is word of something affront. The Dow. It took a tumble. Wall Street. It’s down, but some stocks are up. Is this beginning to feel Seussical? Things go up and down in this world. They go down and up, yes they do.

Guess what? It’s winter and it’s snowing. Well, it’s not snowing right now, but later when you’re asleep. It’ll be snowing then. A thick blanket of Christmas miracle dust will engulf the entire fucking city. But then by morning it will be back to normal: oily road grime black as nothingness while the litter foliage turns grey and fades once more into the detritus of the land.

Tune in. More later. Wait! This just in: you’re a fucking zombie.

Zoop out…

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~ by zoopandpoop on February 5, 2010.

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