When I sit at my desk, in my cubicle, in my suit, reading my little, shitty windows ‘95 screen, I wonder what I could be doing a centuries ago.

I could be pulling my Colt peace maker on some drunk bastard.

I could be swinging my battle axe and scaring the life out of those French pussies as I loot and pillage from my Viking steed.

I could be fighting as a giant in the Colosseum; bashing the skulls of my enemies to the cheer of the crowd.

Instead, I do what I do to make rent.

The blood of warriors boil in my veins as I take complaints about my customer service… and you know what? 

I take it. 

I take it like a bitch in heat.

Rock and Roll is dead.  Fighting is against the law.  The strongest don’t always survive.  You can’t just shoot your gun in public…

The manly world is dead. 

Long live internet pornography.