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R.I.P.->Memorializing Kevin Parrish With Crap

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Kevin Parrish
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Memorial For Kevin Parrish

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.

By all means, e-mail me your thoughts, opinions, concerns and heartfelt wishes to jason@porkjerky.com. I can't sell your address to pornographic spammers otherwise.