11 offensive things I noticed about the holocaust pop up memorial vintage thrift burrito stand
1. BABY HOLOCAUST
2. the minions aucshwitz reinactment was slightly anachronistic
3. overpriced merch
4. i mean its so hard to get a good gifiltafish in this neighborhood, all the LA bagels are so terrible.
420 the somber strippers
5. Im a bit miffed at the british royal airlines JERUSALEM SI THE CAPITAL OF ISREAL AND IN THE CRUSADES I FOUGHT AND I SPILLED INNOCENT BLOOD TO KEEP IT CHRISTIAN AND NOW ITS A SPLIT STATE???? TWO STATE SOLUTION MORE LIKE NO SOLUTION.
6. the burritos were probably microwaved honestly because how many could fit in at once and the cooking time doesn't work. i think maybe they had a speical GAS the used to fry them LOLLLL PINK TRIANGLE XDDDDDDDDDDDDDD GAY BURRITOS GET BURNT. hillary yassssssssssssss HRC shoutout
7. there was a bone in my pulled pork which i felt complicated about because it reinforced the tragedy but alsooooooooooo ooooo ooo
8. the workout plan and the free yoga class based on holocaust bed poses left me a little bit stiff.
9. ok so listen our version of crossfit is finding roadkill on the street and then fucking it
10. I dropped my pico de gallo, a crimson stain that echoes across history, through generations, a stifled heartbeat still loud in the granite face of the 20th century..
11. the guacamole was cursed with the inevitable will to live, and it cost an extra dollar but what is one dollar in the eternal sea of regret everything that we have done is for, what is one drop of urine in the toilet of humanity the seat covered with the plastic of christianity as if there is some sort of heaven in the sky when we know we will all end up in the sewer of the afterlife crying and being eaten by rats.
12. i am a stain on the face of humanity. 12. isn't kick boxing just like for rape victims to get their issues out?
13. this peripatetic violence, from list to list why. for what linguistic baubles, laughter and adulation? i have dried myself in the garden of crime what smirking shriek is the reward. As I paw through your garden combing the bushes as if I was weeding i am always empty palmed look through the lines in my hands as the leaves fall and the streetlights pop on i am still in your yard still with the grass and the dirt. fall came to me with the errant idiot cackle of the executioner debased in charity(plagiarism) what can i find in the dirt? in the groaning soil the birch discloses cats fighting in the yard, piss and shit piss and shit what has happened in the silence of the morning with the evening's ire slinking through the roses I am in your garden it is not a metaphor i am trapped with the hyenic rapture: louise gluck has an edict against identification with the tree but i have eaten all the leaves 'the happy heart wanders the garden' i am in the rose bush screeching i have found your daffodils guilty of treason and the peonies lie at my feet decapitated you cannot write poetry about a leaf or a stupid garden louise there is no justice i have never fallen i am not here by choice. i am growing i am planted you cannot find the blazing eye of satan in the lillies, it watches me plagiarize but what fantasy of originality purports clarity as if we each inherit one word atavistic and alone. taking care not to arrange it with any others as they ever have been before. keep language away from my hysteric plants
do you want to know how i spend my time in the mud of the days i am in the yard and
if louise can create high cultural capital through discussing her feelings and flowers (she good at it tho i do fux tbh), why can't i do the same with nazi minion jokes?