Burning Down the Bauhaus the commune's Omar Bricks dukes it out with the powers that be for our right to play lawn darts
Monday, Mar. 8, 1999
It turned out in the end that the Bauhaus was a terrible place to raise children. First
of all, it's more of a loose conglomeration of artistic ideals than it is a freestanding
masonry structure or plywood shelter. That's the last time I trust a pink dolphin reading
the New York Times. Huh, like the Times knows shit about shit. A mistake
I chalk up to chalk and hallucinogenic sweater yarn.
Second of all, which of course is first of the subdivision following the above comment,
uhm.... do you smell that? Nevermind. Second of all, them Bauhausers are just wierd
goddammned people. I mean, you let loose a monkey in a dress wielding a monkeywrench
in to the average person's bathtub and they don't fucking crawl under the sink and hide
for three days, humming Wagner under their breath. Society just can't function on that
level. You need straight-laced people who know the difference between tinfoil and
galvanized tinfoil. Chumps.
So anyway, the third reason is that I never had any kids. I mean, shit, you'd think
it wouldn't make much difference where you raise some imaginary kids you don't even have
with some hot little dish you saw down at the DQ, but trust me my friends, it matters.
See the tinfoil comment above for details. So yeah, if I ever had any kids with a little
Latino in hotpants, there's no fucking way I'd raise them at the Bauhaus. That would be
right after the frozen foods isle at the Safeway on my list. But that's another story.
And you can quote me on that.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
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Burning Down the Bauhaus
That's the last time I trust a pink dolphin reading the New York Times. Huh, like the Times knows shit about shit.