Jazz is a unique American musical art form.
It also sucks.
Bear with me for a moment.
I am all for making a statement, like what you like, be what your gonna be.
But Jazz sucks ass and thats a fact.
Bullshit! You are saying to your screen.
You have no taste, you say, you have no culture.
You are talking out your blog scribbling ass on this one.
And then it comes, the Jazz lovers standard go to line.
You just haven’t listened to good Jazz.
Yes, that Jazz too.
And Starbucks is smitten.
Like a dog in heat, Starbucks can’t get enough of what is called, “good” Jazz.
That is an oxymoron. (Look it up, I do not have time to ‘splain this to you.)
I spend an inordinate amount of time in Starbucks, this is known.
And it is a stone bitch to write a blog when there is a wild cacophony of noise in the background.
And just a shade too loud. (And by shade, I mean that my soul is being cut into little pieces.
I have a theory about this.
There was an article in the Wall Street Journal awhile back about Starbucks trying to keep “Squatters” out.
A “Squatter” is a patron that, yes purchased something, but was staying too long.
In other words me.
I think this is a passive aggressive method of getting me to leave.
Its also rude, but we can address that later.
As for getting rid of me?
Good luck, people. You have have my seat when you pry it from my cold, dead ass cheeks.
I am not going anywhere, I am dug in like an Alabama tick.
Pack a lunch and come early.
Insert whatever other folksy cliche you like here, I am still not leaving.
So, now we are at a stalemate. We are kind of like two old gunfighters, waiting for the other to make a move.
So what’s next?
In a way, I represent the Occupy movement in downtown Manhattan Beach.
Its my own little protest and I take it very serious, kind of.
Big business is trying to take something from me. Something they own and I feel entitled to it.
My seat. If I could grip a chisel with my ass cheeks, I would chisel my name on it.
The good one, the round by the cream and sugar kiosk.
Look at it this way.
The Constitution promises life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I want to pursue my happiness from the cushy round table in the back with the Ginger scowling at me from the barrista station.
I hold these truths, such as they are, to be self evident.
So, my final Occupy Manhattan Beach demand is for Starbucks to quit using Jazz to deny me my Constitutional rights.
You bastards, how could you?
How the hell did I pull that one off?
I mean, I am good at bullshit, but damn, this is good even for me.
Its the Jazz talking.
Yeah, man. (Finger snapping ensues.)