TWO WEEKS UNTIL THE GREAT MEMORIAL DAY MASSACRE

It's been about a week now since that asshole cop killed George Floyd in Minneapolis. Man, that cop besides being a murderous thug...he must be almost borderline on the old IQ scale (RETARD) since he decided to kill George while being recorded and Officer Timmy Dipshit knew it.  And his dumb fuck partner who stood by with his thumb up his ass while watching his partner murder a man, well as soon as he gets charged, he will roll on that son of a bitch in a minute! He wants no part of being a cop locked down in Stillwater Penitentiary where he gets passed around like a jug of jailhouse pruno by the Black Guerilla Family.  If Timmy, by some insane reason is found innocent, expect Minneapolis to burn like Los Angeles did after Rodney King. 

The only good news that could possibly come out of this is that it has now that the "leader" of the free world has been officially diagnosed as batshit crazy - due to his most recent behavior - and should be immediately be removed from office and fitted for a canvas suit jacket with sleeves that wrap around the back. He should be shipped to either Pelican Bay and locked down in the SHU or boated over to a Shutter Island style insane asylum and given industrial strength Lithium by suppository. If any MAGA morons read this I can just imagine the gnashing of teeth, clutching of pearls and Bible, and shaking their fists to the sky! Live with it! Trump is both dangerous and insane! AND YOU VOTED HIM IN!

And it's also been over a week since idiotic Local and State officials decided it would be one hell of an idea to open up the beaches with absolutely no law enforcement doing a damn thing about about any kind of behavior.

It's almost like the dumb asses didn't realize that the world is in the middle of a pandemic or they thought that COVID-19 was a new boy band playing out of the Everglades.

So in a nutshell, Memorial Day weekend played out like this:

Park your 4-wheel drive micro-dick truck anywhere, swill Natty Light and barf on the beach or in the parking lots, drive onto the beach and sink up to your axles,  toss lit cigarette butts into obviously bone dry ditches, piss openly and shit in the protected sand dunes, better yet - do it in the sea turtle nests, wear no masks, crowd the stores and laugh at the locals who have been in self quarantining AND are wearing masks, get pulled out into the Gulf riptides because your so fucking idiotic that you don't know what the colors of the warning flags mean ("if it ain't a Trump flag, it ain't shit"),  and here's the best for last...banging your 300 lb ranch dressing white redneck wife with a Mickey Mouse tattoo on one of her enormous breasts in the sand dunes while kids giggle as they peak over the top of the dune.

The virus takes normally two weeks before any spikes are reported. Florida has already been busted for cooking the books on the numbers. Did the Governor and Mayor of Pensacola royally screw us in the ass?

We'll soon see, won't we?

People in Florida love this really irritating saying, "That's the price of living in paradise."  What a line of horseshit! Sure it's paradise if you love overcrowding, piss poor wages, racism, Trump and his MAGA followers, bugs, the dumbest tourists on the planet, alligators eating your pets or kids, drunk drivers, getting bit on the balls by a cottonmouth while taking a dump, and crimes committed by criminals that entire websites are devoted to the subject. 

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#FloridaMan

Paradise got lost in Florida a long time ago! You know what Paradise really is? Spending two weeks on a deserted beach in Thailand with the most beautiful hooker you could find in Bangkok, and a ball of opium as big around as a baseball.

Aloha

 

PARADISE FOUND

The Gulf Islands National Seashore at one time was known as and is still called Johnson Beach by many long time locals. It was named after Private Rosamond Johnson, a black guy from Escambia County, who joined the Army during the Korean War.  He pulled two wounded soldiers to safety during a battle and was awarded the Purple Heart. Unfortunately, he was also the first soldier from the county to get killed. He was just seventeen. Long before he got greased though it was known as a Blacks Only beach - a segregated beach. Since this is Lysol injecting, Trump ass kissing drone country, I'm sure there's a shitpot of locals who have the Confederate flag tattooed on their bicep or tits (depending on the sex of the MAGA) who wished it had remained that way.

It's the most beautiful beach in the Pensacola/Alabama area but Pensacola Beach gets the most tourists because of all the bars, nightclubs, and shop after fucking shop that feed the consuming, narcissist  masses that flood the area to drink, fight, vomit, get 3rd degree sunburns, get arrested for disorderly conduct and wind up getting cornholed in Escambia County Jail, or drown in riptides.

Which is just fine with me. You can walk for miles on Private Johnson's beach and not see a soul except for the occasional nude sunbather or primitive camper. One time I thought I had spotted Bigfoot but it was just a guy strutting up the beach buck ass naked. This lad must have weight three hundred minimum, was as hairy as a fuckin' ape, and was wearing one of those stupid straw hats that Bing Crosby and booze hound Dean Martin used to wear. The talent-less Britney Spears brought that stupid ass style back for a nano-second...I think that was after she shaved her head and attacked a car with a baseball bat...but I digress.

The first night I saw Johnson's Beach, five of us were sitting quietly in a boat with the lights extinguished, waiting for a plane to fly over and drop some Square Grouper bales for us to pick up. It was my first big assignment since I had taken the job but the other men were veterans of this sort of clandestine activity. When we heard the plane we had waited until the four clicks that we were anticipating were heard on the radio and the Captain fired up the boat and we headed for the drop spot. The water was like glass that night with just a slight breeze and the bales bobbled gently in the water in an almost perfectly straight line.  We loaded up all the bales (I don't think we left one soldier behind) and head for Ft. Pickens where we offloaded the cargo into a haze gray truck.

We docked the boat in downtown Pensacola and headed for this bar called The Barrels on Navy Blvd that was just two quonset huts that were side by side giving the dump the appearance of a barrel cut it half. A wet t-shirt was just winding down and we wound up closing the joint down. After that we all got in our separate cars and went our separate ways. I had met a Navy chick who seemed heavily medicated and her friend, a totally shitfaced older woman named Doris, who was employed on the base.

They wanted to continue the party so we drove back out to the scene of the crime - Johnson's Beach - where we smoked some Mexican brick weed and killed a case of brew and wound up in a tangled threesome that lasted until the insanely beautiful sunrise. Paradise found! 

But that was then!

Mahalo