We all got problems, and I'm well aware of it.

Every one of you in here has got problems and so do I, and honey that's just bein' human.

But every once in a while, someone has got to come along and put shit into perspective. Tonight, that's me.

You think you got it bad?

You really think you know pain, and fear, and sadness, and defeat, and insanity?

You. Got. No fucking idea.

Now I ain't talkin' about the crackheads in the streets.

And I ain't talkin' about welfare-suckers.

And I ain't talkin' about poor ol' pedestrians getting hit and run by some dude

who's high on speed and meth and crack and Del Taco who doesn't even know he hit anything.

And I ain't talkin' about homeless vets.

And I ain't talkin' about celebrities whose cocaine escapades qualify as news.

And I ain't talkin' about those 900-pound Jerry Springer motherfuckers

who gotta get bulldozed out of their living room.

And I ain't talkin' about those guys who get outta rehab

and turn all the poetry they wrote in the padded room into a musical career.

And I ain't talkin' about the late-night computer chair masturbators,

or the battered spouses, or the autistic, or people on the Atkins Diet,

or even rappers who never make it out the 'hood.

I’m talkin' about one man. I'm talkin' about one stocky, mustached, white workin' class man.

I’m talkin' about a plumber and his name is Mario.

Mario has seen some shit.

Mario has seen shit that you could never even imagine.

No matter how fucking bad your life is, you can rest your pretty little head assured

that you do not have to worry about being attacked by vicious, razor-toothed plants on your way to work.

That's because you're low-down, and you're suffering, but you ain't Mario.

You ever show up at a party hoping to see some chick you've been wanting to bang

and she's not there?

FUCK YOU!

Mario's princess was always in another castle, miles and warp pipes away,

and he had shit breathing fire at him on the way.

Hate your boss?

UNGRATEFUL DIPSHIT!

Just stop for a damn second, stop and think about the bosses Mario had to deal with.

No matter how much of a chauvinistic, self-righteous, pretentious dick your office manager is,

he ain't throwin' fireballs at you.

Think you got a substance abuse problem?

Motherfucker had to eat weird flowers and mushrooms just so he'd stand a chance in the world.

Constant and necessary tripping on psychedelics just so he wouldn't get killed

tripping over a retarded reptile creature. Popped 'em all day long and ran around stomping on turtles.

Now if this sounds like someone who ain't got it as bad as you, I highly suggest you stop everything you're doing and do some serious soul-searching and meta-analysis about where your problems fit in next to a guy like Mario.

SCRATCH THAT.

There ain't no fuckin' guy like Mario. He's Mario, and you're not.

So the next time you get mud sprayed on ya by a passing car, or you get hit with seventy bucks in overdraft fees for bein' a retard with a debit card - or if you get dumped or fired or laid off or laid poorly or if someone fucks up your latte - just remember that there's a man out there somewhere, sliding through a dimensional portal in a big green pipe you'd never have the balls to jump into, who has seen shit that you could never imagine.

He is Mario.

And you are not.

all material on this site copyright 2008 by flip cassidy