Tag Archives: six flags

Six Flags: Scum of the Earth

The people who visit Six Flags are fucking disgusting, and I am one of them.

They stop in the middle of walkways. They take selfies as you’re trying to get into the bathroom. They sprawl out on benches when there could easily be enough room for another two people to sit. They drip of sweat and try to touch you as they pass. They eat enough grease to clog every artery in their bodies, and they eat even more. Nothing is ever enough. They stand in lines then complain about the lines and look at their phones then complain about their lack of signal.

Everybody who goes to my Six Flags is a piece of shit.

The place is so crowded you can’t even think. Everybody is filthy and drenched in cheeseburger jism. Everybody reeks of an adventurous asshole.

Last week, a kid in Kansas was fucking decapitated on a water slide. Today, kids in Texas are jumping down slides without a care in the world. Any one of them could be next. That kid who rode the Batman ride today could have easily flown out of his seat. I stood in line and imagined it happening, figured I’d be the one to do a football-dash and catch him inches from concrete. Everybody is imagining the same thing. That, and they’re fantasizing about sticking their dicks in a funnel cake after the ride. I assume that’s what you do with a funnel cake. At least, from experience, that’s what I think you do. Don’t correct me if I’m wrong.

I have no reason to write this blog post other than the fact that I want to update the site more and this is the most exciting thing to happen to me in weeks, which is depressing and funny. Funny to me. Depressing to you.

I fucking hate amusement parks. The people who attend these things are terrible and will probably vote for Trump. But I still go. The kids like it. Sometimes I do, too. When the parks are ghost towns and the breeze is right.

One of these days I’m gonna pay the twenty dollars and get shot into the clouds.

But hey. At least I passed my ten thousand steps, so I guess that’s something. And also, I didn’t fuck a funnel cake, and believe me, that was no easy feat.