In praise of Intellectual Hick…

A little too much tequila and contemplative zest with the time to pursue such depths… what kind of reality can be painted as an end result? Are the means sufficient? Cuervo with lime and salt, a smoke with guiltless exhales, and a Harley idling low in the background? Romanticism mixed with trailer trash philosophy? Bohemian wanderlust interlaced with a hedonistic twist and rebellious demeanor? Ahhh, labels and clichés… where would we be without them? Heroes abound but anything penned by Larry McMurtry and anyone in David Allen Cosmic Cowboy Coe’s favor suffice for entrance into the IH realm(I'm not talking about International Harvester). Maybe diving into the abyss of “who gives a shit and this is why” is a warm place to be. If Bush wins, this is an option... societal oblivion amidst a mental environment of good times and all the trappings that compliment it all works for me. It will be like lying in wait for the next apocalypse with a smirk on my face. Been there, done that, what next?