sad masterpiece

We ran a bunch of errands today, MyGirl's five year doctor's appointment, got some milk from the Computer Center, picked up our coffee from the Presbyterian church, and stopped to see The Mister at work. On the way home, we drove by the bridge in town that gets hit with spray paint. It's pretty much the only graffiti in town, covered with so-and-so loves that guy, and sad, solitary names that aren't loved by anybody. The bit that caught my eye today said, "bitches ain't shit". Bad grammar usually puts me over the edge, but I was horrified by the audacity of the moron who wrote, er, sprayed that. What a pathetic person he is (I feel confident that Mr. Spray is a Mr.). And how just plain stupid. To indicate that a person is of less value than the piles of poo generated on the adjacent farm is ridiculous. I am sure he wasn't refuting that idea, but I will.

Bitches AIN'T shit, buddy. People ain't. Hope your grandma doesn't hear about your little painting escapade, because she just might smack you and stick you headfirst in a cow pie. True dat.