Ian's Innards: Living the Dream

I’m a chicken hawk, huntin’ for a chicken.
Get paranoid when you hear my glock clickin’.

B Real-Cypress Hill

My wife recently underwent a full frenzied political lecture, fueled by the hammering hands of a good friend of ours, warning that change is not to be believed. Hearing of this Bush blooded insight sent me careening through my own American experience.
Offered passage from the outside netherworld to this glorious country, where whistling at work meets unabated success; I yet held a touch of trepidation. Brain stripped by a lifetime of misguided media and slanted historical texts I maintained dogged doubt that this land would truly be the upgrade to Eden’s starter garden it was ordained to be. Now after 17 years of living the dream I realize that never has a feeling been so deeply misguided and dreadfully wrong as my initial doubt. Having been released from the shackles of oppressive government into this fresh, breezy, field of united freedom, I can breathe.
Granted the inalienable right to arm myself I’ve slowly started to emulate spaghetti western Clint. When resolving parking lot bumper bruises it’s astounding how much more effective it is flashing my glove compartment handgun than simply speaking-people respect the power. The beauty is in the severely unlikely instance that someone gets hurt (I’ve only caught my 2 year old daughter with my in house protection once, and the safety was on) we have fantastic hospital resources where doctors are dying to help you. For a very modest fee, of course picked up by everyone’s insurance though work, you can get fixed up and back home for a few weeks to recuperate. Upon receiving a $92 954.90 bill following my non gun related hospital excursion last year, my insurance company called repeatedly to verify I truly wanted them to offer payment; just in case I wanted to man up and take care of my own business. Although I allowed them to pay, I appreciated the gesture.
Couching myself after putting a solid day’s labour into this hardest working nation on earth I earnestly ponder who ranks second (I had arrived at a possibility during my 4th smoke break but lost it driving from a 2 hour lunch meeting at Applebee’s to a new employee “get to know you” happy hour at Bennigan’s.) Fortunately a productive day spawns equal rewards as I settle in for a post dinner soiree, sponsored by Little Debbie Snack Cakes. A couple runners bop by and my shock sets off a double blink (my serenity is secured as all muscles stay perfectly saggy and sloppy.) I already “own” 2 environmentally friendly H3s and a 6 bedroom house on my 5 figure salary; exercise could really only succeed in stinking up the happiness I’ve earned. I wonder if they know the risk they’re taking? The frigid winter air can freeze their lungs and downing too much water in the summer sauna can knock them dead. I guess some people just don’t know how good they have it.
-- Ian Forsyth