My Leather Jacket

When I put on my leather jacket I stomp around the city. I snap the end off your cigarette and check your girlfriend's ripeness, just before I squeeze the seeds right out of your head. I talk at twice the volume of anyone within earshot with my eyes lit up because I am the main event.

Actually, I don't own a leather jacket. But that's the montage that flashes through my mind in a split second when I see someone else wearing an overpriced carcass, struttin' around like they're the cock of the walk. I just thought people should know, just in case these people misguidedly thought they struck me as fashionable when they leave their house like they just stepped out of a Matrix movie.

As an aside: The first Matrix film was good, then the franchise successively took a dump, reloaded, and took another dump on our collective heads. I don't understand why people would care to become a walking reminder of this by adopting the distinguished clothing style of the characters, but I have seen a number of them walking around my neighborhood. That in itself deserves some mocking, but something that sticks on my brain is: Why would you wear a wool trench coat when the mecury is pushing triple digits on the thermometer? Your Residual Self-Image looks dressed for winter six months early, Chosen-Boy. Undoubtably, there's an anomaly in the system.