La Revolicion!

This past Saturday I had the pleasure of visiting some cousins on the northern end of Rockaway beach. Little did I know that this location is the new hip spot for South American Revolutionaries to plan their Socialist takeovers. To our consternation, sitting close-by were three men and three women drinking and calling each other "bro" at an unrelenting pace. Of course, they picked a spot to place their hand-woven, corn husk beach mats that was just in earshot of the government portion (Riis Park) of the beach, so they could endlessly pretend to empathize with the plight of the proletariat.

Their plans for worldwide Communist domination hit a snag when they spent two hours burying each other in sand and drinking PBR's. I heard Ethan quip, “I’ll fucking fly your kite with you bro,” but I could barely even see him as his desert camouflage made him practically invisible in the sand, although his 4 sizes too short pink shorts distinguished him from the rest of the useless crew. Interestingly, while Ethan and his friend Dirk, who insisted on being referred to as Stryker, were not Cuban dictators, they had each managed to purchase the exact same “unique” hat.

Their $140,000 liberal arts degrees, world class culture and self esteem issues have now made Rockapulco THE PLACE TO BE AND BE SEEN if you have ironic facial hair and can talk for over 20 minutes about how to make a cup of coffee. Thankfully, many of these Hipster twats will be blind before they hit middle age for wearing day-glow colored plastic sunglasses purchased at American outfitters for $200 that don't have any UVA protection.

Viva la Revolucion

For the last couple of years, my cousin has been telling us to stop at the taco place on 96th Street on our way home for some bomb ass fish tacos. I like a good taco. However, I don’t like Hipsters. As a member of the FDNY for over 20 years, he has witnessed filthy, disgusting people doing horrible things to themselves and each other, which is why he can tolerate waiting on line for a taco with a crowd of subhuman Hipsters. I work in an office and my stomach is not as strong as his. After waiting on line surrounded by the horrible Hipster infestation, reading the wanted ads from people selling hundreds of thousand of "rare" records, and finally seeing the cook with a beard at least 1000 times the size of his genitalia, I started profusely vomiting all over myself and the other patrons. In a state of actual irony, my puke hit a passerby’s tattoo of puke. The taco wasn’t bad, but those fuckers ripped me off for my guacamole.

Meghan the unoriginal housedress wearing bed bug carrier waits for her taco

Instead of going home, we ventured off to a few bars. Unfortunately I was forced onto the awful L train at about 10PM on a Saturday night. I saw the likes of people I had no explanation for. An innocent Pakistani family of four children and their parents stood near me on the platform, scared and confused at these weird, useless humans plying their nonsense. I smiled at them, sensing their fear and bewilderment at these strange surrounding. I told them they should not be afraid of these people, only to be ashamed for them.

I don't need no math or science lessons, I got me a can with some quarters and nickles!