Derby and Kid Rock apology

Apr 25, 2018 at 10:47 am

People speak in bumper sticker, and I fucking hate it! There is no way your brain is so easily summed up with a collection of slapped-on platitudes stating how simply rad and righteous you are, while negating the fact you’re a trash mammal living on stolen land... there’s no fucking way! And yet bumper sticker is spreading, growing and squeezing its slimy tentacles around the stumbling masses like some great anime demon of dialectic wrath released upon the planet to harvest and grind you up into a fine paste to be used as pipe-dope around the threads of a million dollar missile!

Point, counterpoint, from one dip-shit abomination the world would be better without to another. Thanks for the info, bro — it doesn’t pay to get my truck out of impound, or address the fact that the ocean is as fucked as a toilet at the Taco Bell, but cool... glad to see you winning(?) at Twitter... And like sinister clockwork, here comes the fuckin’ Derby, when you’re supposed to ramp up your bumper-sticker lingo in this state to really prove where you stand on the battleground, if you love the Derby and the bed-spring-racing hoopla surrounding it. Well, it’s obvious, then, that you hate horses, and you might as well have shot Eight Belles in the head yourself, you Croc-wearing bubba! And if you hate the Derby and the mighty, military spectacular that is Thunder Over Louisville, you probably play in a vegan-patty hardcore band made up of four white dads in their 40s, and you’ve spent the last couple of months trying to defend Morrissey’s racist ass, even though you swore a blood oath to confront racism wherever it reared its ugly head, but you can’t this time, cause, the Mozz. So, you too equally suck as much as your mouth breathing brethren stalking the infield up to his American flag Speedo in mud and shit, mixing Four Loko into his mint julep for an extra bump into total annihilation.

The Derby is so fucking weird ‘cause it’s the only event I can think of in which both PETA and religious zealots are more than happy to protest that shit together, as one! It truly is the Lena Dunham of the sporting world! Bringing opposing sides together in solidarity to bash in the head of the same monster! As for my sexy ass, well, ideologically speaking, I’m too fucking lazy to give much of a shit either way and plan on spending this Derby at the movies. I’m actually and actively excited for this first weekend in May for one reason and one reason only — to see the new Lynne Ramsay film “You Were Never Really Here,” starring Joaquin Phoenix as a man who kills elitist pedophiles with a ball-peen hammer. If I owned an orphanage, I’d take em all! Get ‘em hooked early on what’s good in life!

I was shooting the shit around this time last year with my compadre Gatt Nucleus, and we were wondering aloud what would happen to Louisville and the Commonwealth at large if the horse racing industry imploded once and for all... horse and jockey alike put out to pasture, like, what else do we have going for us? What other set of circumstances would tempt the likes of a Beau Bridges or a Nicole Ritchie, a Queen of fucking England or a Kid Rock into coming to the Bluegrass state to get loaded, throw cash money at the ponies and stuff oneself stupid with burgoo while wearing a big dumb hat with the whole business end of a peacock’s ass sticking out of the top of it?! (If you say, even with inside your lonely head, the Louisville music scene, then I’m coming across this table with a dull, No. 2 pencil, and I’m gonna learn ya, but good why the great Ice T doesn’t give a shit about your new pedal board set up). I mean, yeah, we got bourbon, but bourbon does not make a hustler in a jitney cab jack shit, and since I evoked the palooka’s name, let me get this off my chest and clear some air: It was my generation that helped catapult Kid Rock into stardom — all you young kids out there, I apologize — back then we were communicating through pagers, smoking dirt weed and claiming it was the chronic. We didn’t know what we were doing, or how impactful our ignorance would prove to be in the future, so please, forgive us, forgive us one and all!