Letters from the Top Cat:
"Only one Bull"
9 August 1993
This old lady round the neighborhood I forget her name was always
hollering at me and my boys how farmers only need one bull and we
wasn't so unexpendable neither.
I got what she was after, she's right too.
It kinda depressed me cuz its true nobody don't give a shit about
boys you can beat the piss out of 'em even when they're tiny little
fuckers and don't nobody give a rat's ass but you go around beating on
little girls or snatch a little harmless grope and the goddamn social
workers are crawling all over your sorry ass.
Its cuz girls have the babies, but all boys are good for is donating some
jizz.
Boys ain't important. One guy can knock up a whole helluva lotta
chicks but it takes nine months to hatch the kid, so the more chicks
the more babies, and that's what the whole Darwin survival thing is
all about, more of us is better.
So the only way you're gonna grab any tail is to beat the other guy to
it or even better, tip the odds. It ain't like it happens on purpose,
it ain't like me and the boys look on our gang-bangin' like some kinda
big social Darwin party, you know "Let's go bust some LK skulls, more
pussy for us."
But that's the point of instinct, right, you Just Do It.
It is all kinda the same thing though, I mean, you get pumped, juiced,
you know, all wired up for a major brawl, it's almost as good as sex.
I mean the way the blood is rushing through your head... you know how
it is in the middle of some major bloodshed, when your chain hits some
punk leg muscle and the guy is all-of-a-sudden lain on his back and
your on top of him maybe you're wailing away at his face with the
chain watching it turn to hamburger or maybe you got your knife out
and you stabbed the joe a couple half-dozen times in the chest or the
neck and he's still warm and the bloods flying.
Yr pumped man, you're fucking pumped, sitting on top of the guy, any
guy says he don't got a major bone in his jockeys then is just a
goddamn liar or a worthless pansy.
Beating the shit out of some wimp punk man, it IS sex, it's the same
goddamn thing, only better, cuz the little puke whoever it is knows
man, he knows it if he got any brains at all he knows his life ain't
worth shit. It's kinda like, you got your feelings, and you get alla
his too, like that he's pissing in his pants on accounta what you
are doin' to him, it's like you got his soul too. That don't make a
whole lotta sense I guess.
See, with girls you got this natural instinct not to kill them when
you're fucking 'em, you can't like ever get totally lost in the whole
sex and violence thing, but guys man, fucking them up or just fucking
their punk ass, it don't matter one bit cause an assful of jizz won't
never make no fucking babies, and if you get too rough and tear up
their asshole or totally lose it and strangle them or stab them or
just smash their head in on the pavement...
Big fucking deal. One less asshole taking up space. Figure he was
weak man, and you're doing the human race a favor by taking his jizz
outta the 'pool'.
All I know is, I'm *THE* goddamn bull, so fuck the resta you.
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