Cabbage Patch Kids
Hugo Sauerpuss (left), Ella Krauthammer (center), and Owen Sauerpuss (right) enjoy a well deserved moment of relaxation after a long day of working in the cabbage patch.
The Pappy van Krauthammer has propagated, my young wiener fiends, and I’m feeling as fresh as a fall harvest right before the mashing begins. My little spout looks and acts nothing like me, but I love her still. She reminds me of a bygone purity in myself that could only be achieved through total dependency.
A young cabbage patch, be it the real deal or a kid, relies on the world around it and care of a loving few to get it through its most vulnerable days. Slowly, it begins to make its own decisions. Every bite from the tree of knowledge is digested into a steaming independence fart. Each fart pushes people away just a little bit more until, eventually, you think you know the world and what’s best for everyone in it and you sit on your shit pile that stinks so bad that no one comes near you. Sometimes sauerkraut can be like that. Sometimes adults can too. We’ve fermented ourselves and our opinions so strongly that no one can stand to be around us. We have become so independent that we fool ourselves into believing we are better off alone. We need to cut that shit out. Unscrew your lids my fermented followers… air out your fumes and let them mix with your neighbors. Sit in the smell of your foes long enough that it stinks no more. You can un-ferment yourself into a more decent neighbor. Eventually, you can gain some of your dependence back. And together, we can begin celebrating our Dependence Day!
- Krauthammer
Any fool with a functioning hammer can be a baby-daddy, but it takes a real hardened ‘Puss to be a true father. And you might just start calling Ol’ Puss here ‘Brittany’ because “Oops, I did it again!” That’s right, I am now officially twice as likely not to be perish in an assisted living facility later in life, and it’s as close to hopeful I’ve felt since Barry Obama broke dance in the Oval Office back in Oh-eight. And I know what you’re thinking, as if he couldn’t GET any more sauer, this will just put him over the edge. But you’d be wrong my foul weather friend, because it is our chains that give us freedom. And my boys, my boys are the thickest heaviest most burdensome chains you have ever seen! I’m fuckin’ Jacob Marley over here, bogged down with my kin for a seeming eternity, while you’re Scrooged up all alone in your four-poster bed scared to shit of what might come around the corner next from this fucked up world. Not me, I’m burping, diaper-changing and wiping my way into a carefree oblivion. And you should too.
In ending I want to leave you with something profound, found in the shallowest of spots – the wall adjacent to the toilet paper dispenser in the home goods section of the Ocean County Macy’s. It read as follows: “Some come here to sit and think, others come to shit and stink, others come to scratch their balls, I just come to write on walls”. Consider yourself informed, and fuck off.
- SauerPuss
