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Kevin Parrish Cached Article
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Contrary to popular belief, I was not the coolest of kids in high school. Didn't listen to the Guns and the Roses, never paid $100 for a pair of
factory torn Z Cavarrici's, didn't take the dope, didn't spend countless hours babying my rusted-out, primered up, mufflerless ride and not once
did I have to do the honorable thing and give a girl my half of the abortion cost.
What I regret the most, though, is that I didn't learn the things that go with being cool. I never learned how to inhale any type of smoke. I
never learned how to do a donut. I never learned where to get a fake I.D. And until now, I never learned what fun things all the cool kids did in
the wee hours of the morning.
Thanks to Kevin Parrish's lovely memorial, I know now what all the cool,
underaged kids were doing at 2:30 in the morning. They were all out swerving, hitting medians, rolling their cars over in fields and being
pronounced dead.
Oh, how I wish I could reminisce about missing those halcyon days of yore.
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There I was, titty fucking some random skank's nipples off, wondering if that was enough or if I needed to do something else completely pointless for breast cancer. If only there was a gesture equally as empty as wearing a pink bracelet or having a bake sale or throwing a magnetic ribbon on my car or walking with a herd of heifers for 5 kilometers. Something that would show my hollow support without taking any actual effort nor furthering the cause in any real way. Then it hit me like a ton of boobs. This and every October, porkjerky.com will go pink as a lip service tribute to breast cancer. Please follow my magnanimous example and do something meaninglessly worthless that doesn't require any real effort on your part for this great cause. Believe me when I say, it should be the least we can do.