Apr 202012

Psycho KillerA day at the beach can be a surrealistic experience. It brings to memory of a time I had taken my only art class at a Junior College and I had the professor expounding upon a Picasso painting of which I forget the name of. When the painting was flashed upon the screen, I giggle somewhat. Literally it looked as though a child was given a brush with black paint and a canvas and told to do whatever their heart pleased. She asked what I was laughing at and I told her what I thought. I said it belonged next to any Jackson Pollock painting. She actually said this to me “It took YEARS of difficult work to reach this infantile state!” I replied “Did this include defecating in his pants uncontrollably while painting?” She was not pleased. She was just one of the millions that buy into this bullshit. Someone can literally throw shit on a wall and it is art. It’s true! I have seen it.

So I reach Half Moon Bay to visit the beach. I park in the section meant for people placing and removing their boats from the water. It is perfectly legal to park there. The only problem I have with it has to do with passing the only bathroom and fish skinning station there is. There is nothing like a sunny, gorgeous day walking to the beach to have a snack and relax and WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SMELL? Well that precursor to the beach kind of takes it RIGHT out of you. There is nothing like seeing young lads looking like London street urchins throwing fish intestines at each other for fun. One intestine is errantly thrown and it hits me right in the forehead. The urchins laugh and run away. Every time I walk past this olfactory abomination there is a safety sign posted there. Without fail there is a rather large seagull which has proclaimed this his territory. I named him Peckerless Ponte. I take pictures of him every time I go there. We do a photo shoot with me getting as close as I can without him jumping on my head and all the time I am screaming “GIVE IT TO ME PECKERLESS! DO IT BABY, GET MAD! “ I turn around and 4 people are watching me and a woman says “ Is that really Peckerless?” I said “I have never gotten close enough to tell.” You would NOT believe how many times that has happened. One time I was in a CVS buying antihistamines and I have to sign an electronic scan since I am a meth maker. I signed my name as I said “H-A-R-R-Y P-O-T-T-E-R. The young girl behind the counter face lit up and she exclaimed “REALLY?” “No it is really Ron Weasley.” I said.

So I make my way down the sidewalk and find a piece of sand to proclaim as my own. I have a little flag I plant which clearly states “Nation of Lee” upon it. I am on the breaker side of the beach since it is high tide and everyone on that side is drowning while trying to eat. There are a number of people on the beach and I can stereotype them. There are the dog people. These are people that let their dogs run rampant on the beach doing whatever they want. They run into the water, they fetch, they smell each other’s butts, they knock over and hump small children. There is nothing as horrifying as laying comfortably upon a blanket almost asleep to the rhythmic sounds of the waves and suddenly having water splashed in your face and awaken to some kinky, dirty haired, soaking wet, fecal eating mongrel breathing heavily into your face! You chase it away and find out it has a DOPPLEGANGER! You would think the owner would say sorry for the incident, instead they look at you as if you should appreciate the fact you almost got to kiss a fecal eater. This is precisely why I carry a small blowgun and qurary. There is nothing like seeing the paralyzed bodies of dog owners as the tide carries them out to sea and they are incapable of screaming. The dogs just sit there and watch, finally behaving. All is well with the world. I almost wish there were signs posted with a simplistic Orca springing from the water eating a dog. If it were inside the breaker wall this could be quite spectacular to behold. A person lets their lab loose and it goes running down the beach and just at the perfect moment, 6 tons of sinew and teeth explode from the water, swallow the dog and propels itself back into the water. Nature can be so MAJESTIC and DYNAMIC!!! I guarantee there would be no more dogs running loose on the beach. I have also thought about taking my full grown wolverine to the beach with a haircut and instead of calling him by his real name “Flesh Ripper” would call him “Fifi.” Too many people would lose limbs trying to pet the VERY unique Fifi not mention the dogs trying to sniff his butt.

Then you have the people nations. These are groups of people that meander along the beach and seem to be looking for something but you do not know exactly what. No one seems to be talking just looking and following the pack leader. They move in a precise formation similar to Canadian Geese (people think they hear the geese honking but it is really a high pitched “Eehh!”)As I was lying on my blanket, a troupe of meanderers moved my way and stood on my blanket. All five just stood there over me looking down the beach where their leader seemed focused. One child reached down and took a piece of my chicken where upon I gave the attack command to Perkerless Ponte and he immediate took flight and picked the small child up and flew away with him. This gave incredible incentive for the meanderers to follow after him as they stopped at every other blanket on the beach as they chased their disappearing member.

Then we have the “Child or Children” out of control. These are the kids that parents keep asking not to go farther out into the water and they keep moving farther out into the water until they are swept away or appear on a milk carton. You commonly see parent buried in the sand playfully by the children to the point that they are entrapped in the sand and the child then pours honey on their heads to attract ants. Then there are the little dickens that take their clothes off and play doctor but it disturbs me that 13 or 14 year olds will exhibit this behavior on a public beach. The “Dog” people and “Children” often clash when the children upon meeting a dog or dogs attempt to force feed it sand. The owner gets quite visibly upset and the dog has roughage for a lifetime!

We must ALWAYS observer the pervert that is always there. They are quite easily spotted. It is 92 degrees at the beach and they are sitting on a blanket cover from the waist down by a blanket! They have binoculars and a camera and are looking at everyone. The dogs even make these guys gape. Just look for the telltale bottle of Wesson Oil sitting next to them on their blanket. Other people bring inflatable floating items to beach for the fun, the perverts brings inflatable “Greta” with the removable bikini. The only problem with that is invariably a dog sees Greta, bites her, she farts and flies away leaving the pervert depressed and sobbing painfully.

I will return to revisit this paper since I have not mentioned the Campers, Surfer Dudes and my favorites “The wear a little as possible people who SHOULD be wearing as MUCH as possible!” The stuff night terrors are made of! BBBRRRRR!!!!

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