The most inevitable thing on the Dope City horizon for several decades has been our hosting of the Winter Olympics. The phrase Manifest Destiny comes to mind.
When I was a young man the most important thing was to Wing-Ding: Get pissed, destroy, repeat when necessary. I have not changed much. You would think the fucking government would be more responsible than I but both brands of fucking government we elect on this fatal coast think just like me when I was 18.
We have an Olympic Wing-Ding Centre in my town. Too bad it does not have a motherfucking bar. I went by last night on my way home from the liquor store, just before the Opening Ceremonies began, to see what, if anything, was going on. There were a lot of seniors there supporting the effort. Goes to prove that Viagra is not keeping everybody busy fucking their brains out.
Outside the Centre were two big shiny vending vans. The proprietors of both vans were polishing them up so their mini-donut and taco grease pits shined liked clogged arteries in the dimming cold light of day. Nothing says the Olympic Spirit like parking lot donuts and tacos.
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