Coinage

Why is it that there is apparently an abundance of recently discovered, newly minted, uncirculated coins of some nature that are set to be released by the U.S. Mint every single fucking day?  If you ever listen to satellite radio, you’ll hear “rare” coins of all types of strains being flogged as if you’re the luckiest fuck on the mug of the circular sphere of life.  Their shtick is always that all their wares have been “recently discovered.”  You know, exactly how commonplace it is to discover recently hidden pieces of desirable and valuable metal in pristine condition on a weekly basis?  Hell, just the other day I discovered a cache of booty previously unknown to the free world AND Jack Sparrow, and it was filled with more doubloons than plastic helium filled party decorations at the last drive-by shooting in honor of P. Diddy.  Due to the constant offers I have ignored up until the writing of whatever this is, I decided to watch something called thecoinvalt.com.

It’s all coins all the time.  Unless correct change is needed, and then you have to put a .75 cents in for 10 minute blocks.  Hey, what the fuck is the deal with soda machines refusing to take the dollar bills that are crispier than bacon fried stationary?  It is almost like the more stout and starch your G.W. it’s less likely that you’re to get a drink than a new AAA member.  Them motherfuckers won’t let you change a tire if you have a hint of swill among your exhalations of plant life.  As of now, Silver Dollar Stan and the Coin Purses is trying to convince me to buy a “Complete Eisenhower Dollar Se.t”  Uh, weight a minute.  I am now being told that I must have “2010 Silver United States Proof Set.”  I’m familiar with the multiple variations of grain alcohol, but I’ve never heard of anything 2010 proof.  If you’re drinking shit so strong it has commas or decimal points, you’re going to go into a coma and can only be awoken with music played at high decibels.  Probably Rush.  Rush played softly has been shown to cause gerbils to run and hide in people’s asses, so they can avoid the high pitched, bass heavy songs with lyrics more fucked up than an unfinished Cherokee song called “Squaw Big Snake Make You Feel Like a Woman.”  Every race of people – whether inhumanely and unfairly kicked off their own land or not – has transformers.  Indian transformers had it easy.  Guy or gal, or both, wore the same skirt-like get up, or pants held together by Indian macramé.

Wouldn’t President Kennedy have been more appropriately honored with a dildo in the shape of his head?  He was a puss hound of the first degree.  I think he also has a monument or some shit, but I have just been reminded in the form of picture that he has his mug put on the front of a ½ dollar.  Sure, he was ½ fat and ready to put his monument into any triangular office he could find.  But I think he got screwed by getting commemorated in bullion.  He liked himself some “strange” more than the protagonist in anything Tim Burton is affiliated with.  If you’re going to truly commemorate his existence via the medium of coinage, show him with Marilyn Monroe ho-tard’n it up in the back ground.  Show him and Joe Dimaggio cock fighting over her.  Depict JFK and RFK Cameloting some chick on some sort of folding money.  The last time I checked, you can’t stuff a ½ dollar in a g-string.  You sure as hell can’t buy Georgia Bush or Hillary Rod-Me Cliton a Pepsi product for fitty fucking cents.  Well, unless you’re fucking Fitty Cent.