From The Desk Of Special Ed

by Ed Sofield

I am currently planning a move. Seems pretty simple.

Yeah, right. My ass and your face.

I’ve spent the last four years in Florida, where most of you people bored enough to flip to this column are living as I write this. As most of you know, there aren’t usually many things to fret over here. It’s just a laid-back kinda place. Hell, all I have to worry about is waking up in time to smoke a bowl, watch a Lance Henriksen movie and get Wendy’s for lunch……but I digress.

Spending so much time in such a relaxed, non-confrontational atmosphere has somewhat dulled my killer instincts. And now, of all places to relocate to, I pick New York City. That’s right, the Mecca of all Western Civilization, as an old friend once referred to it (that old friend now sells drugs in Washington Square Park, among other horribly communist and leftist occupations). There is speed in the water in NYC. This is not a lie. All the stories everyone hears about the lost civilization of American Indians (clothed in twenty-four dollars worth of rugs, beads and bear-skins) and old pet alligators fighting for territory in the sewers of Manhattan are “twenty pounds of crap stuffed into a ten-pound bag.”

However this one fable happens to be true. The government (damn those sneaky bastards), knowing to keep up with world changes and the stock markets in Japan and England and such, have on a consistent and regular basis dosed the municipal water supply with gigantic proportions of uppers and downers – the speed in the morning and the downers at night. Their purpose? To have all of their executive types to be wide awake at seven so as not the miss out on any opportunities to pull ahead of the Japs or the Commies (or, uh, ex-commies, or something)…..and the downers, of course, are meant to put them all to sleep by nine so as to be refreshed the next morning.

My problem is this: I don’t like speed. I don’t like to move fast, and in fact don’t like having much energy at all. I move slow, and plod around all day until it is time to sit down and punch out another couple hundred words for a magazine I never even see anymore. Are there any sensible solutions to this predicament? Some, to wit:

1. Drink Bottled Water. ~~ well, yeah….but They thought of that. The government may not be able to spend less than three thou on a toilet seat for the White House, but they cover their bases when it comes to forcibly drugging the voting populous.

1. Just Don’t Drink Water. ~~ well….thought of that one too. Spend the rest of my life drinking soda and Florida orange juice. Except….all those commercials on public access….”New York water tastes good….it’s almost addictive!” just make me want to go to the kitchen sink and dunk my head under so the drugs get to my brain quicker.

1. Just Not Move At All. ~~ the most promising of all options….however, I already spent the money for a plane ticket….and since that leaves about three dollars to my name……I think I have larger concerns than getting all hyper from the aqua.

So it seems I have already made my mind up on the move. And, on the bright side, where better to report on the best of new music and media…..than the Mecca of Western Civilization?

NEXT TIME: Special Ed packing (and givin’ it to the locals one last time)…..also not to miss….Why does Alanis Morrisette suck in bed? She fucking talks too much!!!!!!! Next time, Constant Readers………..