A MODERN MAN

I’m a modern man,
digital and smoke-free;
a man for the millennium.

A diversified, multi-cultural,
post-modern deconstructionist;
politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.

I’ve been uplinked and downloaded,
I’ve been inputted and outsourced.
I know the upside of downsizing,
I know the downside of upgrading.

I’m a high-tech low-life.
A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art,
bi-coastal multi-tasker,
and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.

I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school;
and my inner child is outward-bound.

I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking,
warm-hearted cool customer;
voice-activated and bio-degradable.

I interface with my database;
my database is in cyberspace;
so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive,
and from time to time I’m radioactive.

Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve,
ridin’ the wave, dodgin’ the bullet,
pushin’ the envelope.

I’m on point, on task, on message,
and off drugs.

I’ve got no need for coke and speed;
I’ve got no urge to binge and purge.

I’m in the moment, on the edge,
over the top, but under the radar.

A high-concept, low-profile,
medium-range ballistic missionary.

A street-wise smart bomb.
A top-gun bottom-feeder.

I wear power ties, I tell power lies,
I take power naps, I run victory laps.

I’m a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk
rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.

A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic;
out of rehab and in denial.

I’ve got a personal trainer,
a personal shopper,
a personal assistant,
and a personal agenda.

You can’t shut me up;
you can’t dumb me down.

‘Cause I’m tireless, and I’m wireless.
I’m an alpha-male on beta-blockers.

I’m a non-believer,
I’m an over-achiever;
Laid-back and fashion-forward.
Up-front, down-home;
low-rent, high-maintenance.

I’m super-sized, long-lasting.
high-definition, fast-acting,
oven-ready and built to last.

A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case;
prematurely post-traumatic,
and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail.

But I’m feeling, I’m caring,
I’m healing, I’m sharing.
A supportive, bonding, nurturing
primary care-giver.

My output is down, but my income is up.
I take a short position on the long bond,
And my revenue stream has its own cash flow.

I read junk mail, I eat junk food,
I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.

I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive,
user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.

I like rough sex; I like tough love.
I use the f-word in my email.
And the software on my hard drive
is hard-core – no soft porn.

I bought a microwave at a mini-mall.
I bought a mini-van at a mega-store.
I eat fast food in the slow lane.

I’m toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear,
and I come in all sizes.

A fully equipped, factory-authorised,
hospital-tested, clinically-proven,
scientifically formulated medical miracle.

I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, pre-heated,
pre-screened, pre-approved, pre-packaged,
post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped
and vacuum-packed.

And…I have unlimited broadband capacity.

I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal.
Lean and mean.
Cocked, locked and ready to rock;
rough, tough and hard to bluff.

I take it slow, I go with the flow;
I ride with the tide, I’ve got glide in my stride.

Drivin’ and movin’, sail in’ and spinnin’;
jivin’ and groovin’, wailin’ and winnin’.

I don’t snooze, so I don’t lose.
I keep the pedal to the medal
and the rubber on the road.
I party hearty, and lunchtime is crunch time.

I’m hangin’ in, there ain’t no doubt;
and I’m hangin’ tough.

Over and out.

– George Carlin

I miss you, Mr Carlin.

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About Jumpin' Jack Cash

Crimewave2014@gmail.com
This entry was posted in Ranting and Raving and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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