May 14, 2007
These High Gas Prices Make Me Wanna Choke a Fuckin’ Baby
Guest Editorial by Chad Pilfer, Georgetown University Class of ‘08
Pilfer: Esteemed scholar, oil activist, potential child murderer
You know, me and my Tau hommies had a bitchin’ Memorial Day weekend planned: buy a coupla forties, hit the clearance racks at Old Navy, and say hello to sweet Virginia Beach to gets our mack on.
But these goddamn gas prices are soaring out of control, and I’m so angry I could choke the fuck out of a small, helpless-ass infant.
Seriously, bro. Here in the nation’s capitol, it’s topped $3 for 87 octane. For you non-college bitches, that’s what we call on the street “the cheap shit.” Can you believe that? I can’t be putting no Iraqi desert mud in my ’99 Accord—not if I want her running right, that is. But with 93 octane almost $3.50 per gallon, I could strangle a toddler wearing footy pajamas with a wire hanger.
The problem is that when gas prices are illin’, it throws a playa’s whole budget all outa whack. Let me give you some examples. You ain’t gonna find these in no economics textbook, but they’ll do. Let’s say you and your bros want to have some fine-lookin’ ladies over to the Tau House. Shorties are ready and willing to spread, too. But you and your hommies only have $31.62 between the four of you, and you gots to get chips, dip, and two cases of Zima. Now imagine that exact scenario with the gas prices as stated above. Nigga, you feelin’ me yet?
In conclusion, this fiasco makes me want to squeeze a baby’s throat so hard it shit itself and died. We needs to come together as a people and like, demand our rights and stuff. Now if you’ll excuse my ass, I gots a biology exam to study for. Holla!
Pilfer: Esteemed scholar, oil activist, potential child murderer
You know, me and my Tau hommies had a bitchin’ Memorial Day weekend planned: buy a coupla forties, hit the clearance racks at Old Navy, and say hello to sweet Virginia Beach to gets our mack on.
But these goddamn gas prices are soaring out of control, and I’m so angry I could choke the fuck out of a small, helpless-ass infant.
Seriously, bro. Here in the nation’s capitol, it’s topped $3 for 87 octane. For you non-college bitches, that’s what we call on the street “the cheap shit.” Can you believe that? I can’t be putting no Iraqi desert mud in my ’99 Accord—not if I want her running right, that is. But with 93 octane almost $3.50 per gallon, I could strangle a toddler wearing footy pajamas with a wire hanger.
The problem is that when gas prices are illin’, it throws a playa’s whole budget all outa whack. Let me give you some examples. You ain’t gonna find these in no economics textbook, but they’ll do. Let’s say you and your bros want to have some fine-lookin’ ladies over to the Tau House. Shorties are ready and willing to spread, too. But you and your hommies only have $31.62 between the four of you, and you gots to get chips, dip, and two cases of Zima. Now imagine that exact scenario with the gas prices as stated above. Nigga, you feelin’ me yet?
In conclusion, this fiasco makes me want to squeeze a baby’s throat so hard it shit itself and died. We needs to come together as a people and like, demand our rights and stuff. Now if you’ll excuse my ass, I gots a biology exam to study for. Holla!
Labels: gas prices, Georgetown University