I say old chum! is that a dirgible up there in the ether?

Heyo. When I was in Denver, I woke up one morning among the clouds, a full mile above sea level, to the pounding headache associated with altitude poisoning (which is a fancy way to say hangover) and decided to go get myself some coffee. The coffee shop was a retrofitted little affair that used to occupy some kind of crappy garage or something but was now being run by an extremely pleasant, good looking and painfully slow woman who seemed about as interested in moving the line for coffee along as an average person is to just up and die. As a result, I had the pleasure of looking around at a wild assortment of hipster dipshits for (no shit!) about fifteen minutes. The longhaired asian guy in the straight-brimmed cap and the striped tank top was telling the slightly putrid fat girl in the cats eye glasses all about how his store was 'killing it' and then proceeded to give her a little square glossy flier (probably for some kind of DJ oriented event). The various guys with their various mustaches were all sitting around with their various highly individual ideas about fancy teas and at some point I realized that this noise, this horrible clacking noise was irritating the shit out of me on top of all this.

I decided to sneak a peek around and here's what I found: at the bar, in a deep v neck purple shirt (probably with a scarf) and some dumb glasses and 'uniquely groomed' beard was this dildo (I hate to just skim by this...this guy was such a dildo that there needs to be a new word. What do dildos use as dildos when they're sitting in the bedside drawer just playing with themselves idly? Because that's what this dude was, a dildo for a dildo, a dildo's dildo. Beyond the doubleheaded dildo or the vibrating, pearl filled dildo; beyond the veiny complete-with-hairy-sack dildo, beyond the pocket rocket or the fleshlight or any dildo cousin lies this guy, the worlds biggest dildo of all dldos, and here's why:) (please note that I was typing a colon followed by a parenthesis and not trying to make a smiley emoticon right there...sorry bout that) typing on a fucking typewriter.

This typewriter was the sort that was full sized. It was probably a foot deep and it easily weighed at least thirty pounds if not significantly more. This choach was plucking away at it with the skill of an eleven year old boy with down syndrome playing the intro to "One" by Metallica and he had a stack of "work" next to his giant typing machine. AND this thing was making a shit ton of noise. However, the longhaired asian store owner, the fat cat glasses girl and the slew of other deesh in that place seemed oblivious to this most outrageous of social blunders and the appropriate response, namely: when you show up somewhere lugging thirty pounds of awkward pretension with you and then sit there and annoy everyone with your 'dedication to the way things once were' at the expense of not only your ability to get whatever super important shit you're pretending to do done well and without mistakes, all the while showing off that you can barely use the antiquated dinosaur of a machine that you dragged from your home to use in public specifically so people would see you using it (at nine in the fucking morning, by the way) the people around you are required to openly mock you and/or piss on your shoes.

But hey, that's denver. They still think there's gold in the mountains and they watch the Nuggets. Maybe they don't know any better, but you, my dear gentle Dogs of War, I beseech you! Keep your wacky ideas about doing shit the old timey way to a minimum or face the open mockery of the world at large. Sure, you can shave with a straight razor and ride horses every day and have natural vagina based childbirth and 'hang ten' on your longboard and you can put on your leather helmet and goggles and ride your pennyfarthing and wear a bathingsuit with sleeves and curl your mustache (yeah...I know. I know. I'm free to decry my own actions. This isn't Russia) and make woefully out of date references to the collapsed USSR and its draconian policies, but ultimately you're just really wearing a sandwich board that says "I'm an attention starved dipshit who's all out of good ideas and this is what's left".

It's true folks. Enjoy your weekend. I'm off to detroit.