D-Block: "i think i'm gonna put a counter on my web joint to represent the number of days clean... but i'm gonna put a reset button on that shit... just in case."
and there's the rub.
when Hernando Cortes set sail for the "new world" in the 16th century, he had nearly 600 men in his employ. he assured them that boundless riches awaited them upon arrival, all but guaranteeing that their children's children's children would want for nothing. that's how paid these motherfuckers would be if they just got on their grizzly.
but you see, transatlantic voyages can be a real bitch. especially by sail.
growing increasingly wary of the dangers of foreign shores as the journey dragged on, by the time Cortes arrived in Mexico, the crew was mostly unwilling to press on. reassuring them that they would be Paid Like Wade if they went ahead with the conquering bidness, Cortes formed a holding pattern on the beach.
what's a young Conquistador to do?
in a show of true leadership (or manifest destiny-fueled delusion?), Cortes instructed his men to burn the boats. that's right. burn those motherfuckers. because when there's no way out...
Trap Or Die!
so needless to say, with the boats gone, these motherfuckers became absolutely ravenous. fucked the Aztecs in the ass. literally.
excuse the cultural insensitivity, but i think there's a rather positive lesson in this for all of us. because frankly, who doesn't have their own personal fleet that's holding them back, giving them an out, a route to failure. keeping them from getting that gold, from truly beasting out.
despair and dreariness are easy. short skirts and wet garbage bags really. Canadian -Shotgunning beers by the video poker machine, constantly putting their filthy fingers in your mouth. they call it flirting.
it's determination that's the bitch of the lot. she'll give you a fake phone number if you don't get your weight up. maybe even a drink to the face. not beer. i'm thinking something expensive and viscous. so the sting lingers. the cost of doing battle.
just do it.
