My parents raised me to be courteous, kind and dutiful. So in being a crass punker for so long I had to occasionally train myself to be pithy, rude and unpleasant.
Those were useful tools in an anarchist clown's toolbox, now notsomuch.
One day I picked up a piece of detritus from the late 90's North Portland sidewalk. It was a jerky wrapper. I marched to the Clown house, sat in my "write'n chair" and penned an angry letter to the company.
I demanded biodegradable packaging for their sulfite sticks. I also had to practice lying so I told them they were stale. Is stale jerky even possible? Sounded ludicrous to me.
I moved on. My charming levels quickly rose back to normal.
Two weeks later we got a package, It was full of dried meat products and a hand written letter apologizing for the staleness.
We noticed all the stamps they used and along with the unmetered postage, the handwritten part was a clue that I just taxed a small biz.
That is a huge No No in my world.
I'm against Walmart not Walter.
It was one of the first things I used this new device called "the internet"for.
I looked the company up and learned something I was suspecting...Dingo sucks. LOL
They were a small biz, So there ya go. I was a huge jerk and it got me a huge bag of jerky.
I had to eat it all too since I was the only clown in our set at the time that ate meat.
I just sat on the porch drinking beer and eating guilt jerky.
Jerk Jerky
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