Philosophical rants of “Truck Stop” the hobo.
The man everyone knows as “Truck stop” was a high educated and respected member of a government think tank in the 1960’s. This all changed due to his extensive LSD experimentation, coupled with 4 tours to Vietnam. (He went there as a tourist in 2003, where was run over by a pack of Tuck-Tucks while high AF on DMT) These events permanently changed the way his brain processes information. Is he crazy, or does he possess mystical wisdom from another plain of consciousness…you decide.
Feel free to ask him anything.
Q; Mr. Truck Stop, what is your gender identity, and what advice would you give someone that questions who they are on the inside and what gender that should chose to identify with?
A: Identity you ask… Can anyone be anything, or can the “anything” in this equation, be a mustachioed she hulk with fake tits and an elephant trunk? Essentially the way I see it… yes and no. When you think it over, you realize that this questions has been asked exactly zero times in the history of people asking stupid questions. I’ll put it to you this way, it was established in the yonder year of hours gone past, you know… back when your pee hole had an infection because of that bitch from the Dollar Store that looked like “Vicky” from the Real Housewives of Orange County. Do you remember… of course not, because it was a leap year and I probably made it up. So, to answer the first question-Sexually I identify as a gender curious metrosexual dawning in a slightly ambiguous pant suit, but socially I identify as a well-endowed gender neutral stapler.
Back to the second part of your question. A man once told me something so profound and so thought provoking, it’s almost a crime that I have long past forgotten it, but I’ll pretend he said this- “You don’t just get to jack off a stuffed unicorn dick without getting in trouble with the park ranger...did you?” You need to understand something people… sometime life lifts up your kilt or dress and sticks other people’s idioms in a rocket ship, and then shoots that ship in your area 51 airplane hangar. Sometimes that hangar is full of anal warts and topped in a chocolate colored quagmire…you know I’m talking about your turd cutter right? I digress…Sometimes your hangar is full of the endings of bad movies, rough drafts of speeches given by presidential cadets and the results of lasts years American’s Got Talent finale. Sometimes that means something so brilliantly and insightful that it’s hard to express with words or for the everyday person to comprehend… and sometimes times it just means you’re gay.
Hope that helps.