Disclaimer: Everything ever posted on this blog is and will continue to be fiction and lies, loosely based on things that I made up while in a Xanaxdu blogging state. Any similarities between what I posted and what really happened is pretty fucking unavoidable. That's why I use so many fake names.
Bank of Generica training is like kindergarten for cynics. We have to participate in these humiliating " team- building fun excercises" like Diversity Bingo and FICO Family Feud.
I sit in the back row with all the trouble-makers and grind my teeth.
Teacher tells us that we will be issued mirrors so we can" watch ourselves smile" while we provide Mediocre Standards (see disclaimer above)
What bullshit. Those mirrors are used as an early warning system against unwelcome visitors to one's damncube.
I learn about the Sick Smegma methodology. Again.
I do not like it.
----
I filled my tank this morning at the bargain price of $2.61 g.
Tonight it is $3.01.
I spend more on gasoline than I do on beer.
I like beer more than I like gasoline.
Unfair!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Stunned
When I went to bed last night, the TV talkers were saying that it looked like N.O. was gonna dodge the worst -case scenario. Tonight, the news is different. There's nothing left. It's worse than worst. As I watch , the news seems to be getting worse.
In 2003-2004 I processed insurance claims for two storms , Isabel and Gaston, and saw many photos of storm damage- some of the Catastrophe Team folks actually kept scrapbooks -( on their own time, of non-policy holder property) - but I've never seen any storm damage like the emerging picture of the Katrina aftermath. It's more like a tsunami.
Over a 14-month period , I closed over 8,000 homeowner claims and only had 15-20 'Total Loss' , i.e. , the property was to be demolished and re-built. Those were very serious cases ; people losing everything, families living in rental property for up to a year, etc.
But they were rare.
Now, entire towns and cities are gone. The only comfort is knowing that , unlike a tsunami, millions of lives were saved by the forced evac. It seems as if it'll be days or weeks until we know how many lives were lost.
Already, there are already accounts of wide-spread looting, car-jacking and shootings. The kind of stuff that gives anarchy a bad name. Martial law may become a neccesary evil.
Shit. I feel an urgent need to call home, but it takes a while to get through, even though home is nowhere near the damage zone. The connection cracks up a lot , but I just wanted to make sure my Granma was OK and tell her I was OK too.
It's suddenly 9:21 pm. Sitting and staring for most of two hours.
A thought intrudes.
It's the realization that I would probably would've been one of the idiots who stayed behind , saying stupid shit like "Hurricane Party - been there, done that", is a disturbing one. If I was lucky, I'd be waiting for the Coast Guard to pluck my stupid ass off of the roof. My cats would be gone. Everything would be gone.
I should be gone. I'm starting to freak out a little bit.
In 2003-2004 I processed insurance claims for two storms , Isabel and Gaston, and saw many photos of storm damage- some of the Catastrophe Team folks actually kept scrapbooks -( on their own time, of non-policy holder property) - but I've never seen any storm damage like the emerging picture of the Katrina aftermath. It's more like a tsunami.
Over a 14-month period , I closed over 8,000 homeowner claims and only had 15-20 'Total Loss' , i.e. , the property was to be demolished and re-built. Those were very serious cases ; people losing everything, families living in rental property for up to a year, etc.
But they were rare.
Now, entire towns and cities are gone. The only comfort is knowing that , unlike a tsunami, millions of lives were saved by the forced evac. It seems as if it'll be days or weeks until we know how many lives were lost.
Already, there are already accounts of wide-spread looting, car-jacking and shootings. The kind of stuff that gives anarchy a bad name. Martial law may become a neccesary evil.
Shit. I feel an urgent need to call home, but it takes a while to get through, even though home is nowhere near the damage zone. The connection cracks up a lot , but I just wanted to make sure my Granma was OK and tell her I was OK too.
It's suddenly 9:21 pm. Sitting and staring for most of two hours.
A thought intrudes.
It's the realization that I would probably would've been one of the idiots who stayed behind , saying stupid shit like "Hurricane Party - been there, done that", is a disturbing one. If I was lucky, I'd be waiting for the Coast Guard to pluck my stupid ass off of the roof. My cats would be gone. Everything would be gone.
I should be gone. I'm starting to freak out a little bit.
Monday, August 29, 2005
The Katrina Conspiracy
First let's revisit the issue of chemtrails . Obviously, the guys over at that web-site are crazy, so I summarized it for you here. At the time of that writing I wasn't sure exactly how chemtrails were being used.
But now it's obvious. Our government has been using 'Weather of Mass Destruction ' as a weapon in it's ongoing war against everything. Like many other over-budgeted weapons systems , this one still has a few bugs to work out.
For over a decade , the frequency and severity of hurricanes has been increasing. This is part of the chemtrail strategy. I suspect some of the recent, ultra-powerful storms were artificially augmented by chemicals dumped from unmarked DoD jets.
Why?
Notice that these storms often hit Cuba and Haiti. Accident of geography or sinister plot? Hmm...
But don't they also hit Florida?
Sure they do. This gives GW Bush a prime opportunity to send his little brother Jeb huge amounts of money on a regular basis.
Perhaps Katrina was intended for Venezuela and our Hurricane Artillery Division just has profoundly bad aim.
Perhaps their aim is true.
Let's say that a hurricane destroyed/disabled a large portion of our nation's oil refining capacity.
It could happen.
In a just world, the Oil Barons would use some of their tax-payer subsidized record oil profits to build cleaner , more efficient plants. (and maybe toss a few sheckles toward oil alternatives).
It's pretty clear that we don't inhabit a just world, so let's forget about this scenario.
It couldn't happen.
Try this one instead:
- It wouldn't hurt the Barons to divert media attention from the fact they are ruining America. Oh, and that Iraq mess? Sweep it under.
- Enter Katrina. Wham! 24/7 hurricane coverage.
- Destruction of Production creates massive jumps in gas prices, causing the Mother of all Energy Crisises. Uh, oh! We gotta get some oil.
-BushCorp spinners start to conflate Katrina with Iran's "looming nuclear menace".
-Bush uses the above relationship as a pretext for invading Venezuela.
This goes on and on until every human being is either dead, conscripted, incarcerated or In Charge of the World.
See- it all adds up. Pat Robertson wasn't spitting bilious blasphemy when he called for Chavez's assassination- he was spewing putrid prophecy instead.
Maybe this sounds crazy to you, but most folks said I was crazy when I said invading Iraq would be a very bad idea, but was inevitable nonetheless.
It's a Pyhrric 'Toldcha So".
But now it's obvious. Our government has been using 'Weather of Mass Destruction ' as a weapon in it's ongoing war against everything. Like many other over-budgeted weapons systems , this one still has a few bugs to work out.
For over a decade , the frequency and severity of hurricanes has been increasing. This is part of the chemtrail strategy. I suspect some of the recent, ultra-powerful storms were artificially augmented by chemicals dumped from unmarked DoD jets.
Why?
Notice that these storms often hit Cuba and Haiti. Accident of geography or sinister plot? Hmm...
But don't they also hit Florida?
Sure they do. This gives GW Bush a prime opportunity to send his little brother Jeb huge amounts of money on a regular basis.
Perhaps Katrina was intended for Venezuela and our Hurricane Artillery Division just has profoundly bad aim.
Perhaps their aim is true.
Let's say that a hurricane destroyed/disabled a large portion of our nation's oil refining capacity.
It could happen.
In a just world, the Oil Barons would use some of their tax-payer subsidized record oil profits to build cleaner , more efficient plants. (and maybe toss a few sheckles toward oil alternatives).
It's pretty clear that we don't inhabit a just world, so let's forget about this scenario.
It couldn't happen.
Try this one instead:
- It wouldn't hurt the Barons to divert media attention from the fact they are ruining America. Oh, and that Iraq mess? Sweep it under.
- Enter Katrina. Wham! 24/7 hurricane coverage.
- Destruction of Production creates massive jumps in gas prices, causing the Mother of all Energy Crisises. Uh, oh! We gotta get some oil.
-BushCorp spinners start to conflate Katrina with Iran's "looming nuclear menace".
-Bush uses the above relationship as a pretext for invading Venezuela.
This goes on and on until every human being is either dead, conscripted, incarcerated or In Charge of the World.
See- it all adds up. Pat Robertson wasn't spitting bilious blasphemy when he called for Chavez's assassination- he was spewing putrid prophecy instead.
Maybe this sounds crazy to you, but most folks said I was crazy when I said invading Iraq would be a very bad idea, but was inevitable nonetheless.
It's a Pyhrric 'Toldcha So".
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Quiz Re-Viz
1.)If you knew in five years you would win an award, what would you most want that award to be? why?
I want cake and ice cream. Because it's yummy.
2.) Describe your family (in whatever sense you choose)using only cartoon characters to convey their general personalities.
Later for this question. Too many problems right now.
3.) What three things are you most paranoid about and why?
I'm not paranoid about anything. All of my fears are fully realized.
If you insist:
a) Executive
b) Legislative
c) Judicial
4.) If you knew that all the claims of Christianity were true, beyond a shadow of a doubt..how would your life be/not be different?
I'd be confused. Christianity is rife with hypocrisy and contradictions -which claims am I supposed to listen to? Pat Robertson? Mother Theresa? Torquemada? Cotton Mather? The loudest "christians" are so full of hatred, violence and sin that Jesus would weep barbed wire were He to see what is being said and done in His name.
-Crusades
-Hatred
-Rascism
-Intolerance
-Sexism
-Torture
That doesn't spell Christ.
I do not not need an Invisible Cloud Being to tell me what is wrong and what is right.
I and I will not change my life ,beliefs and behavior because of some nebulous set of rules imposed by anyone or anything , Supreme Being or not.
5.) You suddenly own your own radio station, what programming do you choose and why? Is there anything you would absolutely not allow?
In a very real sense, I do co-own my own radio station. It's www.wrir.org .
Each DJ and host is responsible for the content of their own show.
I would not allow on-air radio nudity. Kids could be listening...
I want cake and ice cream. Because it's yummy.
2.) Describe your family (in whatever sense you choose)using only cartoon characters to convey their general personalities.
Later for this question. Too many problems right now.
3.) What three things are you most paranoid about and why?
I'm not paranoid about anything. All of my fears are fully realized.
If you insist:
a) Executive
b) Legislative
c) Judicial
4.) If you knew that all the claims of Christianity were true, beyond a shadow of a doubt..how would your life be/not be different?
I'd be confused. Christianity is rife with hypocrisy and contradictions -which claims am I supposed to listen to? Pat Robertson? Mother Theresa? Torquemada? Cotton Mather? The loudest "christians" are so full of hatred, violence and sin that Jesus would weep barbed wire were He to see what is being said and done in His name.
-Crusades
-Hatred
-Rascism
-Intolerance
-Sexism
-Torture
That doesn't spell Christ.
I do not not need an Invisible Cloud Being to tell me what is wrong and what is right.
I and I will not change my life ,beliefs and behavior because of some nebulous set of rules imposed by anyone or anything , Supreme Being or not.
5.) You suddenly own your own radio station, what programming do you choose and why? Is there anything you would absolutely not allow?
In a very real sense, I do co-own my own radio station. It's www.wrir.org .
Each DJ and host is responsible for the content of their own show.
I would not allow on-air radio nudity. Kids could be listening...
Why I Haven't Given Up Yet
Some good things:
- K's hair. It's long, beautiful and has just the right amount of natural red. K is a cancer survivor. She was bald for a long time. Now she's got real hair again.
I've been in a permanent state of emotional shell-shock since cancer took away my Mom. There was so much blood. It was everywhere.
It's not an easy subject to talk about, but K let me cry it all out on her shoulder. She's a lot stronger than I am.
- Music. K's husband, who is also a friend from wayback , somehow convinced one of my old bands to do a reunion at his band's gig. We haven't played a gig for about 7-8 years. We'll be lucky if we practice once before the show. No matter. We will rock.
-Kiss. Not the band , but a kiss or two with a woman I've been in love with for 20 years. Let's put aside all the maybe, shoulda, coulda, what if's , mistakes and regrets. Just hold me while we kiss.
Am I crying? Probably.
Am i saying too much? Yes.
- K's hair. It's long, beautiful and has just the right amount of natural red. K is a cancer survivor. She was bald for a long time. Now she's got real hair again.
I've been in a permanent state of emotional shell-shock since cancer took away my Mom. There was so much blood. It was everywhere.
It's not an easy subject to talk about, but K let me cry it all out on her shoulder. She's a lot stronger than I am.
- Music. K's husband, who is also a friend from wayback , somehow convinced one of my old bands to do a reunion at his band's gig. We haven't played a gig for about 7-8 years. We'll be lucky if we practice once before the show. No matter. We will rock.
-Kiss. Not the band , but a kiss or two with a woman I've been in love with for 20 years. Let's put aside all the maybe, shoulda, coulda, what if's , mistakes and regrets. Just hold me while we kiss.
Am I crying? Probably.
Am i saying too much? Yes.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Testing 1,2,3
After all the trouble I went through to track down the questions presented in my previous rant, something evil removes the comment section from that post. So I post this and it's biz-as-use. Please comment here. I've always liked book talkingness and discussifullication debate...
More Book Stuff
So after a chased goose and a lot of clicking, I think found the questions Nicole ( eventually, I will list- link, but for now use this) referred to in her comment on my previous post.
Here: I'll spare you from having to figure it out- go here for some background.
The questions:
1. Number of books you have owned: I find that it's difficult to own books. I have a rule: never borrow or loan a book from/to anyone. I break this rule all the time. As a result 'my' books are largely dispersed amongst other readers and I have an awful lot of books in my home that aren't 'mine'. At one point , I had 100,000+ books in my possession, but they were mostly comics and a gift from my boss after he closed his shop.
2. Last book I bought: A big box of paperbacks at a yard sale for $2. A lot of sci-fi and stuff , most of which I've not yet read. Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle was the title that caught my eye- I left the box in my car. I will sort through it the next time my car breaks down and leaves me stranded in the opposite of everywhere.
I love my library card.
3. Last book I completed: I'm not telling, but it was so awful that I wish I'd used a pseudonym.
4. Five books that mean a lot to me: (I'm counting series as one-book)
1- LOTR Trilogy
2-Chronicles of Narnia
3- Illuminati Trilogy
4- A Clockwork Orange
5- Tom Sawyer
4b. What are you currently reading? Training manuals , blogs and lots of email.
5. Which 5 bloggers are you passing this onto? The first five who read this.
Here: I'll spare you from having to figure it out- go here for some background.
The questions:
1. Number of books you have owned: I find that it's difficult to own books. I have a rule: never borrow or loan a book from/to anyone. I break this rule all the time. As a result 'my' books are largely dispersed amongst other readers and I have an awful lot of books in my home that aren't 'mine'. At one point , I had 100,000+ books in my possession, but they were mostly comics and a gift from my boss after he closed his shop.
2. Last book I bought: A big box of paperbacks at a yard sale for $2. A lot of sci-fi and stuff , most of which I've not yet read. Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle was the title that caught my eye- I left the box in my car. I will sort through it the next time my car breaks down and leaves me stranded in the opposite of everywhere.
I love my library card.
3. Last book I completed: I'm not telling, but it was so awful that I wish I'd used a pseudonym.
4. Five books that mean a lot to me: (I'm counting series as one-book)
1- LOTR Trilogy
2-Chronicles of Narnia
3- Illuminati Trilogy
4- A Clockwork Orange
5- Tom Sawyer
4b. What are you currently reading? Training manuals , blogs and lots of email.
5. Which 5 bloggers are you passing this onto? The first five who read this.
Monday, August 22, 2005
24 Days To Go
Yikes. I thought I'd been given a late starting date for mortgage school since I already knew all the basic shit. I was, as I'm prone to being, wrong. The whole 5-week ordeal had been moved back.
Ugh.There's 23 people in this class. We waste an hour or more going over dress code, where to smoke, where the bathrooms and breakrooms, water fountains and such are, etc.
My first stint here, no one told me about any of this stuff. I had it all figured out in about five minutes- finding out where the coffee comes from is my #1 priority at a new job.
When I first drove out there, I spotted a sign with two arrows. One points to the right and is labeled "Employee Parking". The other points to the left and says "Customer Parking and Deliveries". I've been reading road signs for decades, so I could quickly grasp the information displayed on this mini-billboard and almost effortlessly determine to turn right. I've got the left/right thing down pat.
So we wait while about 1/3 of the class leaves to move their cars.
After re-parking is accomplished, a Fat White Man comes in to welcome us to the Bank Family. Some shit about teamwork, dedication, doing the right thing...whatever. I've heard it all before at other jobs. It's always bullshit. He turns the class over to one of the most superficially perky women I've ever met.
Then it's time for Diversity Bingo. This is just plain weird. We each get a Bingo card and Ms. Perky instructs us to ask each other ask questions printed on the card-stuff about pets, tattoos, gardening, kids etc.
Do you have two or more dogs or cats? Yes.
Do you have a motorcycle? No.
Any tattoos? Yes.
Play a musical instrument? Yes.
Write stories or poetry? Yes.
Ever been on radio or TV? At least once a week.
Grow roses? No, but I'm considering renting a storage Pod and using it to grow weed so I don't have to work here.
Ever had sex in Church?...hmm, does the graveyard count?
Ever had a violent fantasy that involves disemboweling incompetent authority figures? Yes. I'm having one right now.
I don't think that they really asked those last couple questions, but I was so bored that I started
making shit up. It was almost as bad as being at a twelve-step meeting.
Hey! Let's watch a video about diversity and discrimination. I've had Federal EEO training, which involved us spending our days watching cheesy videos and our per diem on liquor. My girlfriend at the time was a manager too, so we spent a lot of time studying together . My (black) assistant and I would stage faux name-calling sessions in the hotel bar. Most of it was improvised parody of the training videos we watched all day. In short, we broke every regulation in the book, but had fun doing it.
This video is just the same as those, except without the fun people, the per deim, the GF and the bar. Snore...
Lunchtime! I go to visit some of the people that I actually like. Whee! They are happy with reunion. One of them asks me if I'm on drugs.
No.
Do I wanna take a ride at lunch?
Yes!
I don't know what we did after lunch. Whatever it was , it was really dull.
I usually don't get stoned at work, but I think I may start making an exception until training is over.
Ugh.There's 23 people in this class. We waste an hour or more going over dress code, where to smoke, where the bathrooms and breakrooms, water fountains and such are, etc.
My first stint here, no one told me about any of this stuff. I had it all figured out in about five minutes- finding out where the coffee comes from is my #1 priority at a new job.
When I first drove out there, I spotted a sign with two arrows. One points to the right and is labeled "Employee Parking". The other points to the left and says "Customer Parking and Deliveries". I've been reading road signs for decades, so I could quickly grasp the information displayed on this mini-billboard and almost effortlessly determine to turn right. I've got the left/right thing down pat.
So we wait while about 1/3 of the class leaves to move their cars.
After re-parking is accomplished, a Fat White Man comes in to welcome us to the Bank Family. Some shit about teamwork, dedication, doing the right thing...whatever. I've heard it all before at other jobs. It's always bullshit. He turns the class over to one of the most superficially perky women I've ever met.
Then it's time for Diversity Bingo. This is just plain weird. We each get a Bingo card and Ms. Perky instructs us to ask each other ask questions printed on the card-stuff about pets, tattoos, gardening, kids etc.
Do you have two or more dogs or cats? Yes.
Do you have a motorcycle? No.
Any tattoos? Yes.
Play a musical instrument? Yes.
Write stories or poetry? Yes.
Ever been on radio or TV? At least once a week.
Grow roses? No, but I'm considering renting a storage Pod and using it to grow weed so I don't have to work here.
Ever had sex in Church?...hmm, does the graveyard count?
Ever had a violent fantasy that involves disemboweling incompetent authority figures? Yes. I'm having one right now.
I don't think that they really asked those last couple questions, but I was so bored that I started
making shit up. It was almost as bad as being at a twelve-step meeting.
Hey! Let's watch a video about diversity and discrimination. I've had Federal EEO training, which involved us spending our days watching cheesy videos and our per diem on liquor. My girlfriend at the time was a manager too, so we spent a lot of time studying together . My (black) assistant and I would stage faux name-calling sessions in the hotel bar. Most of it was improvised parody of the training videos we watched all day. In short, we broke every regulation in the book, but had fun doing it.
This video is just the same as those, except without the fun people, the per deim, the GF and the bar. Snore...
Lunchtime! I go to visit some of the people that I actually like. Whee! They are happy with reunion. One of them asks me if I'm on drugs.
No.
Do I wanna take a ride at lunch?
Yes!
I don't know what we did after lunch. Whatever it was , it was really dull.
I usually don't get stoned at work, but I think I may start making an exception until training is over.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Vomits That I Have Known and the Awards That They Deserve
Vomit and I have a relationship that goes back to my infancy, although I don't remember the early days of it with much clarity. Nor do I recall some of the later years.
It's always been a passive-aggressive relationship, tainted by wary caution, open hostility and outright disgust.
I got really sick yesterday. We were playing kickball during a heat advisory (heat index 110 f) which turned out to be a pretty bad idea. It was fun for a couple innings, but after a while I started feeling dizzy. It started getting hard to run from base to base and to chase fouls in the field.
The other team kicked the ball straight at me. I caught it.
Then everything went white- I couldn't see anything-just white.
"Throw it!", I heard someone shout. "Throw it!"
Throw what? I'm not even sure where my hands are, much less what's in them.
Besides, I'm busy standing up. It's suddenly extremely difficult to do so, even without someone yelling at me. I think that maybe I'm dying, but that thought seems as far away as everything else. It doesn't really bother me.
I remain in this state for what seems like days, but my friends said was about 1o seconds.
I stagger to the bench. Water. Glug, glug ,glug.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes", I lie.
Oh, no, not at all, I think.
Guys? I gotta go home. Now.
I make it to my car, but as soon as the blast of super-heated air from my Honda Sun Oven rushes out to greet me it's too late. Hands and knees, puking still-cold water into the gutter. This is the first time I've ever done this while sober. I'm hoping that no one sees me.
Then I realize that I can't stand up. I can shake and quiver, but I can't stand up.
I start hoping that someone can see me. Hospital seems like a possibilty.
Alright. It passes quickly. I manage to get into my car, crank the A/C up and make it home.
I grab the entire water jug from the kitchen, go upstairs and lie down. I'm soaking wet.
Small sips. Only small sips.
Get into.
Cold shower.
Get into.
Dry, loose fitting clothes.
Get into.
Bed.
Small sips, I remind myself. Small sips.
I feel sick, but I manage to keep the sips down.
I have popsicles and Ice Soup for dinner.
So I award myself the First-Ever PDP (Pure Dumbass Puking) Medal. Yay me!
(This morning I hear that another young and healthy Pro Football player has died from what may well be heat-related causes)
While I'm dressing I notice that my eldest cat has puked on the stairs. She's weird like that. In the morning, she waits for me to go into the bathroom to uh,' read the paper' before she uses her litterbox in the nearby closet.
If I vomit, she vomits.
Between my two cats, they do the majority of the household vomiting. I don't get sick when they do- I just get disgusted and grumpy. One of my kitties has a kidney history, so I have to examine his spew to make sure there isn't blood or anything unusual in it.
This examination requires bright light. Use plastic fork to squish, poke and stir this mess. I try to keep this in perspective-it's not as bad as diaper duty, I'm sure , but it's still gross.
Despite my pleas to my neighbors, someone's been feeding him- the undigested dryfood has Meow Mix shapes, but the vet med food he's supposed to eat comes in little tic-tac sized pellets.
His puke is pellet-free. Like most Americans, my cat prefers junk food to health food.
I hereby award all my cats, past and present the RUM (Reliably Unpleasant Mess) medal.
Speaking of Rum, I will never , ever drink Demon Rum again. At least not the cheap-ass Bacardi/Capt. Morgan shit. If you can afford expensive rum, buy Single Malt Scotch instead. Need I say more?
There is no medal awarded for booze pukes.
There is , however , a Deli-Belly Bravery Medal. You know, when your sandwich tastes just a little funny at lunch, but yer starvin' and broke , so ya eat it anyway?
8 hours later, you'd better have a bathroom small enough to reach the sink from the seat, or a big bucket. No matter what color you normally are, your skin turns Roswell Alien Gray. Luckily, you are probably too sick to look in the mirror.
All the booze, all the drugs and all the crazy shit I've done , and until recently I've been convinced that the closest I've ever come to death was at the hands of a turkey sandwich.
Now I'm wondering if I almost died from playing kickball.
Whatta way to go.
I often hear idiot guys say that they wanna die during sex. I think that's more than a little bit selfish and inconsiderate of their partner-fill in the details yourself, I'm still somewhat queasy from yesterday and need to keep my breakfast down.
Unrelated: Tomorrow I start mortgage class. I'm dreading it. I hate classrooms. Can't you just give me a book and pay me to read it? Most people read so infrequently that they will believe you when you tell them it took you five weeks to read one book. In fact, they will probably be amazed that you read at all.
Aaarghh... I'll be getting paid to sit and listen to corporate bullshit. Don't they realize I'm a 'loose cannon'? Before they hired me, they fired me. For the 2nd, 3rd time? I lose track.
I mean , I got fired for indifference. When told by Agency Girl that they had to let me go, I just shrugged and left. Inwardly, I was really worried about $$$, but I thought finding a shit job would be easy. It's not. I've got a fairly serious looking ( in reality it is tiny) Federal drug conviction, shitty credit and a piss-poor attitude according to Agency Girl. I have anecdotal evidence that they've said these things to other employers, thus costing me jobs. I need this on tape.
The less said about this, the better.
It's always been a passive-aggressive relationship, tainted by wary caution, open hostility and outright disgust.
I got really sick yesterday. We were playing kickball during a heat advisory (heat index 110 f) which turned out to be a pretty bad idea. It was fun for a couple innings, but after a while I started feeling dizzy. It started getting hard to run from base to base and to chase fouls in the field.
The other team kicked the ball straight at me. I caught it.
Then everything went white- I couldn't see anything-just white.
"Throw it!", I heard someone shout. "Throw it!"
Throw what? I'm not even sure where my hands are, much less what's in them.
Besides, I'm busy standing up. It's suddenly extremely difficult to do so, even without someone yelling at me. I think that maybe I'm dying, but that thought seems as far away as everything else. It doesn't really bother me.
I remain in this state for what seems like days, but my friends said was about 1o seconds.
I stagger to the bench. Water. Glug, glug ,glug.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes", I lie.
Oh, no, not at all, I think.
Guys? I gotta go home. Now.
I make it to my car, but as soon as the blast of super-heated air from my Honda Sun Oven rushes out to greet me it's too late. Hands and knees, puking still-cold water into the gutter. This is the first time I've ever done this while sober. I'm hoping that no one sees me.
Then I realize that I can't stand up. I can shake and quiver, but I can't stand up.
I start hoping that someone can see me. Hospital seems like a possibilty.
Alright. It passes quickly. I manage to get into my car, crank the A/C up and make it home.
I grab the entire water jug from the kitchen, go upstairs and lie down. I'm soaking wet.
Small sips. Only small sips.
Get into.
Cold shower.
Get into.
Dry, loose fitting clothes.
Get into.
Bed.
Small sips, I remind myself. Small sips.
I feel sick, but I manage to keep the sips down.
I have popsicles and Ice Soup for dinner.
So I award myself the First-Ever PDP (Pure Dumbass Puking) Medal. Yay me!
(This morning I hear that another young and healthy Pro Football player has died from what may well be heat-related causes)
While I'm dressing I notice that my eldest cat has puked on the stairs. She's weird like that. In the morning, she waits for me to go into the bathroom to uh,' read the paper' before she uses her litterbox in the nearby closet.
If I vomit, she vomits.
Between my two cats, they do the majority of the household vomiting. I don't get sick when they do- I just get disgusted and grumpy. One of my kitties has a kidney history, so I have to examine his spew to make sure there isn't blood or anything unusual in it.
This examination requires bright light. Use plastic fork to squish, poke and stir this mess. I try to keep this in perspective-it's not as bad as diaper duty, I'm sure , but it's still gross.
Despite my pleas to my neighbors, someone's been feeding him- the undigested dryfood has Meow Mix shapes, but the vet med food he's supposed to eat comes in little tic-tac sized pellets.
His puke is pellet-free. Like most Americans, my cat prefers junk food to health food.
I hereby award all my cats, past and present the RUM (Reliably Unpleasant Mess) medal.
Speaking of Rum, I will never , ever drink Demon Rum again. At least not the cheap-ass Bacardi/Capt. Morgan shit. If you can afford expensive rum, buy Single Malt Scotch instead. Need I say more?
There is no medal awarded for booze pukes.
There is , however , a Deli-Belly Bravery Medal. You know, when your sandwich tastes just a little funny at lunch, but yer starvin' and broke , so ya eat it anyway?
8 hours later, you'd better have a bathroom small enough to reach the sink from the seat, or a big bucket. No matter what color you normally are, your skin turns Roswell Alien Gray. Luckily, you are probably too sick to look in the mirror.
All the booze, all the drugs and all the crazy shit I've done , and until recently I've been convinced that the closest I've ever come to death was at the hands of a turkey sandwich.
Now I'm wondering if I almost died from playing kickball.
Whatta way to go.
I often hear idiot guys say that they wanna die during sex. I think that's more than a little bit selfish and inconsiderate of their partner-fill in the details yourself, I'm still somewhat queasy from yesterday and need to keep my breakfast down.
Unrelated: Tomorrow I start mortgage class. I'm dreading it. I hate classrooms. Can't you just give me a book and pay me to read it? Most people read so infrequently that they will believe you when you tell them it took you five weeks to read one book. In fact, they will probably be amazed that you read at all.
Aaarghh... I'll be getting paid to sit and listen to corporate bullshit. Don't they realize I'm a 'loose cannon'? Before they hired me, they fired me. For the 2nd, 3rd time? I lose track.
I mean , I got fired for indifference. When told by Agency Girl that they had to let me go, I just shrugged and left. Inwardly, I was really worried about $$$, but I thought finding a shit job would be easy. It's not. I've got a fairly serious looking ( in reality it is tiny) Federal drug conviction, shitty credit and a piss-poor attitude according to Agency Girl. I have anecdotal evidence that they've said these things to other employers, thus costing me jobs. I need this on tape.
The less said about this, the better.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
The Only Reason I Hate People Is Because They Suck
Update: they have captured and arrested the S.O.B. who did this. His name is Larry Northern, but he's a real Southern asshole. Turns out that a nail from a memorial cross popped his tire.
Maybe there is a god.
Larry, I am not a vet, and I don't like to fight, but I have friends and family who served . Trust me on this- you do not want to meet them. They hate you. A lot.
My Grandmother wants you to go to prison. I want you to hang yourself. A 60-year old family friend who fought in 'Nam wants to 'talk' to you. You don't wanna talk to him. You wouldn't last long enough to utter your last words.
Maybe you've heard of Cindy Sheehan.
She's just one woman.
This Fox-Bite sums it all up (italics inserted):
CRAWFORD, Texas (AP) - A pickup truck tore through rows of white crosses last night near President Bush's ranch, where a woman has been protesting the Iraq war. Yeah. Just her. Just one woman.
The crosses stretched along the road at the Crawford, Texas, camp, bore the names of fallen U-S soldiers. No one was hurt. Except the 1,865 + men and women whose names were on those crosses. They were hurt so much that they died.
Cindy Sheehan, whose son was killed in Iraq last year, vows to remain in Texas through Bush's August vacation unless he meets with her. Meanwhile, court documents reveal that Sheehan's husband has filed for divorce in California. A special thanks to second-tier uber-cunt Michelle Malkin for removing her head from her asshole for a few minutes, reminding us that losing a child can destroy a family and internment camps and racial profiling can preserve our freedom. I agree. Let's throw her yellow skinned (and bellied) slant eyed self into a recently vacated Gitmo cell. The couple were high school sweethearts. But Cindy Sheehan says they separated because of the stress caused by their son's death.
---
I'm trying to calm down. I'm trying to think of anything that pisses me off more than desecrating the memories of America's war dead. The thought that we could send thousands more of our troops home in coffins makes me weep . I don't want or need any more anger or sorrow, but if you insist on leaving tire tracks on our fallen and our Flag, you better ask yourself why you hate America. You'd better think fast.
Because I'm only counting 'til two.
Maybe there is a god.
Larry, I am not a vet, and I don't like to fight, but I have friends and family who served . Trust me on this- you do not want to meet them. They hate you. A lot.
My Grandmother wants you to go to prison. I want you to hang yourself. A 60-year old family friend who fought in 'Nam wants to 'talk' to you. You don't wanna talk to him. You wouldn't last long enough to utter your last words.
Maybe you've heard of Cindy Sheehan.
She's just one woman.
This Fox-Bite sums it all up (italics inserted):
CRAWFORD, Texas (AP) - A pickup truck tore through rows of white crosses last night near President Bush's ranch, where a woman has been protesting the Iraq war. Yeah. Just her. Just one woman.
The crosses stretched along the road at the Crawford, Texas, camp, bore the names of fallen U-S soldiers. No one was hurt. Except the 1,865 + men and women whose names were on those crosses. They were hurt so much that they died.
Cindy Sheehan, whose son was killed in Iraq last year, vows to remain in Texas through Bush's August vacation unless he meets with her. Meanwhile, court documents reveal that Sheehan's husband has filed for divorce in California. A special thanks to second-tier uber-cunt Michelle Malkin for removing her head from her asshole for a few minutes, reminding us that losing a child can destroy a family and internment camps and racial profiling can preserve our freedom. I agree. Let's throw her yellow skinned (and bellied) slant eyed self into a recently vacated Gitmo cell. The couple were high school sweethearts. But Cindy Sheehan says they separated because of the stress caused by their son's death.
---
I'm trying to calm down. I'm trying to think of anything that pisses me off more than desecrating the memories of America's war dead. The thought that we could send thousands more of our troops home in coffins makes me weep . I don't want or need any more anger or sorrow, but if you insist on leaving tire tracks on our fallen and our Flag, you better ask yourself why you hate America. You'd better think fast.
Because I'm only counting 'til two.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Big Absorbent Anger v.2.0
I could take a jumbo-sized roll of paper towels, cover it with tiny handwriting and it still wouldn't hold all my outrage. There's no end in sight, so it's difficult to choose a starting point.
- How about this "9/11 Freedom March" bullshit? The Dept. of Defense spends millions of dollars on a war rally, invoking 9/11 to do so, in support of our troops - who are fighting a war because of WMD...er...freedom...um...Middle East 'stability...er...cheaper oil...terra-ism...etc. The truth is, no one even knows what the fuck we're fighting for. We do know it doesn't have anything to do with 9/11.
I don't feel like celebrating on 9/11. Usama bin Laden celebrates 9/11. I don't.
I already have a day where I celebrate our Freedom. It's July 4th.
I honor our troops on Memorial Day.
If the DoD wants to support our troops, why not give them better equipment , higher pay and a workable exit strategy.
Oh, I forgot. There is no workable exit strategy.
Golly, but you'd think that the Bushites would've thought about that before they tossed our troops into this mess.
The sponsors include The Washington Whore-Post. The WP now says it will withdraw it's support if the event turns out to "political or pro-war" in nature.
Gosh.
A DoD sponsored event spuriously claiming to support our troops, held on 9/11 and cynically designed to divert attention from the fact that we are losing an unwinnable war? How could that be political?
If you wanna support this Motherfucker of all Stupid Wars, please do. Enlist today. Send your kids. Go spread freedom and depleted uranium on full automatic. Otherwise , just shut the fuck up.
Ya know, several years ago I saw aTV show about Clint Black. I'm not a country fan, but Mr. Black has played all kinds of music and many different instruments. He played rock and roll bass for years-they even had a clip of him playing drums-very well- on a Steely Dan song. As a musician, I was impressed. No politics were mentioned.
Now he's a pro-death cocksucking sell-out.
Ever heard of the Rolling Stones? Check the dumpster behind my building if you'd like some of their records. They have a new song called ' Sweet Lil Neo-Con', which Sackless Mick sez doesn't refer to Bush and his cronies. (If it did, he could be banned from performing in the USA) Instead, he's raising money for Gov. Ahnold, a Guv who's even less popular than the man he replaced.
Mick, I'd like to offer you a dead mole and a litterbox, you fucking pussy.
Speaking of pussies, how 'bout that Bush? He's afraid of Cindy Sheehan. With Karl Rove, Scotty Mc Bullshit , Karen Spews and a host of other top spinners, he can't answer one woman's simple question: "What is the noble cause that my son died for?" So he hides. ( He gets a five week paid vacation? That's so French).
Bush was afraid to go to the 'Nam, yet he supported that war. He's got two unemployed daughters-why not send them to this new not-quagmire? It's a noble cause, after all.
He's afraid of Helen Thomas. He's afraid of the free press in general, which is why we don't have one . The press is afraid of him. Cowardice is the only evidence that the Mainsteam Media is 'liberal'. As someone said, "the Democrats insist on bringing waterpistols to knife-fights".
I sent Kerry an email asking for my contribution back. No reply as yet.
And what's up with all the homophobia anyway? If I passed out half- naked face down at a gay pal's party, those evil queers would place me on a couch, cover me with a blanket and let me sleep it off unmolested. Alka-seltzer and breakfast in the morning.
On the other hand, if I so much as blink, you GOP paragons of virtue will steal my Social Security, protect Merck Pharmaceuticals from my Grandmother, draft my cousins, eliminate science from science classes, condone torture without due process, overturn Roe v. Wade, use my drinking water to dilute industrial waste and make damn sure that gas is 300% more expensive than it was when that Clinton scumbag was in office.
Things sure are better since we got a President who likes war more than blowjobs.
----
Friday, I went out with my pal Blee to see a couple bands and ran into an old friend , BugBear (he looks just like a classic bad-ass Hell's Angel) from Baltimore. Tiny B told me he was in town. She told me he'd become (more) annoying. She was correct.
BugBear: Hey Allan! Longtime!
Me: Hey BB! I heard you were in town. Howzit goin'?
BB: Great! What're you doing these days?
Me: Well, I'm doing sound at th-
BB(interrupts) : I'm down here working on a Tom Hanks movie, except I got fired 'cause my van broke down, but here, check out my Union card and this (uncashed) paycheck, and I've got people in Baltimore stopping me on the street to offer me work building movie sets and work lights for Broadway shows and I'm actually famous for my spotlight work and I'd be rich, but I spent too much on this van and...
(He goes on and on for what seems likes 5 hours , but is really only 90 minutes. At first I thought he was coked-up, but he just likes to talk about himself)
BB (cont): ...and I'm writing a comic book- hey, didn't you used to write comic books?. Maybe you could give me some pointers.
Me: Well, yeah. First, you have to-
BB (interrupts again) : I've got this story that's really boring, but then I had this idea...and the first guy , who's like the hero kinda main character guy-
Me (forcing in a word) :Protaganist?
BB: ? Well, sorta, I guess, except he's the good guy. I haven't come up with a bad guy yet, but I did write this thing where the one guy says to this chick... and then he saves her... but it's gonna be funny, like a joke once I figure out who he fights so they can say stuff to each other...
I stop listening and start talking to a pretty girl standing nearby. She's cute and has just the right amount of glitter on her. Turns out she works at the Public Library ( no shit-I have this thing about librarian-types. Women and books turn me on. I guess I'm sick, but I digress)
BB (to Girl): Hey, I'm BugBear. I've got two Union cards and this paycheck and I write comics and work for Tom Hanks except for right now, but check out this tattoo...
Me: Hey Bug? Why don't I set up a microphone on the stage for you so you can tell the whole crowd about it?
He looks at the stage. "There's already a mic up there. If you can get the band to stop playing, I can promote my comic book."
He's serious.
My friends would love that- "hey, you don't mind taking a break for an hour or so in order for my pal BugBear to talk about his unnamed comic book, his broken van ,union cards and vast wealth?"
Pretty Girl laughs. She doesn't know me, but she can spot sarcasm when she sees it. She agrees to play a game of pinball with me in the back of the club. Pinball- not a euphemism- just flippers and jingling bells and now costs 50 cents a game etc. I love pinball and I love smart, sexy women-playing pinball with one is about as good as things get.
Until my Special Olympics Fan Club butts in.
My SOFC is just one guy. He's nice, but he's too smart to be retarded and too stupid to be anything else. I recorded some stuff for a band that he hangs out with and now he thinks I'm some sort of guru or something.
I'm playing pinball with a Very Pretty Girl. She's also cool. Until SOFC starts talking about how he wants to be an intern so that I can teach him everything I know and he thinks he could learn a lot if he spends a few years training with me (what's this shit? a few years?) and he just won't shut up or go away.
I'm playing pinball with a Very Pretty Girl and her first impression is that all my friends are either drunken fuckwits or drooling halfwits.
She left while SOFC was prattling on about how confusing microphones are.
I didn't even get her number.
Never , ever interrupt me when I'm playing pinball with a sexy librarian.
- How about this "9/11 Freedom March" bullshit? The Dept. of Defense spends millions of dollars on a war rally, invoking 9/11 to do so, in support of our troops - who are fighting a war because of WMD...er...freedom...um...Middle East 'stability...er...cheaper oil...terra-ism...etc. The truth is, no one even knows what the fuck we're fighting for. We do know it doesn't have anything to do with 9/11.
I don't feel like celebrating on 9/11. Usama bin Laden celebrates 9/11. I don't.
I already have a day where I celebrate our Freedom. It's July 4th.
I honor our troops on Memorial Day.
If the DoD wants to support our troops, why not give them better equipment , higher pay and a workable exit strategy.
Oh, I forgot. There is no workable exit strategy.
Golly, but you'd think that the Bushites would've thought about that before they tossed our troops into this mess.
The sponsors include The Washington Whore-Post. The WP now says it will withdraw it's support if the event turns out to "political or pro-war" in nature.
Gosh.
A DoD sponsored event spuriously claiming to support our troops, held on 9/11 and cynically designed to divert attention from the fact that we are losing an unwinnable war? How could that be political?
If you wanna support this Motherfucker of all Stupid Wars, please do. Enlist today. Send your kids. Go spread freedom and depleted uranium on full automatic. Otherwise , just shut the fuck up.
Ya know, several years ago I saw aTV show about Clint Black. I'm not a country fan, but Mr. Black has played all kinds of music and many different instruments. He played rock and roll bass for years-they even had a clip of him playing drums-very well- on a Steely Dan song. As a musician, I was impressed. No politics were mentioned.
Now he's a pro-death cocksucking sell-out.
Ever heard of the Rolling Stones? Check the dumpster behind my building if you'd like some of their records. They have a new song called ' Sweet Lil Neo-Con', which Sackless Mick sez doesn't refer to Bush and his cronies. (If it did, he could be banned from performing in the USA) Instead, he's raising money for Gov. Ahnold, a Guv who's even less popular than the man he replaced.
Mick, I'd like to offer you a dead mole and a litterbox, you fucking pussy.
Speaking of pussies, how 'bout that Bush? He's afraid of Cindy Sheehan. With Karl Rove, Scotty Mc Bullshit , Karen Spews and a host of other top spinners, he can't answer one woman's simple question: "What is the noble cause that my son died for?" So he hides. ( He gets a five week paid vacation? That's so French).
Bush was afraid to go to the 'Nam, yet he supported that war. He's got two unemployed daughters-why not send them to this new not-quagmire? It's a noble cause, after all.
He's afraid of Helen Thomas. He's afraid of the free press in general, which is why we don't have one . The press is afraid of him. Cowardice is the only evidence that the Mainsteam Media is 'liberal'. As someone said, "the Democrats insist on bringing waterpistols to knife-fights".
I sent Kerry an email asking for my contribution back. No reply as yet.
And what's up with all the homophobia anyway? If I passed out half- naked face down at a gay pal's party, those evil queers would place me on a couch, cover me with a blanket and let me sleep it off unmolested. Alka-seltzer and breakfast in the morning.
On the other hand, if I so much as blink, you GOP paragons of virtue will steal my Social Security, protect Merck Pharmaceuticals from my Grandmother, draft my cousins, eliminate science from science classes, condone torture without due process, overturn Roe v. Wade, use my drinking water to dilute industrial waste and make damn sure that gas is 300% more expensive than it was when that Clinton scumbag was in office.
Things sure are better since we got a President who likes war more than blowjobs.
----
Friday, I went out with my pal Blee to see a couple bands and ran into an old friend , BugBear (he looks just like a classic bad-ass Hell's Angel) from Baltimore. Tiny B told me he was in town. She told me he'd become (more) annoying. She was correct.
BugBear: Hey Allan! Longtime!
Me: Hey BB! I heard you were in town. Howzit goin'?
BB: Great! What're you doing these days?
Me: Well, I'm doing sound at th-
BB(interrupts) : I'm down here working on a Tom Hanks movie, except I got fired 'cause my van broke down, but here, check out my Union card and this (uncashed) paycheck, and I've got people in Baltimore stopping me on the street to offer me work building movie sets and work lights for Broadway shows and I'm actually famous for my spotlight work and I'd be rich, but I spent too much on this van and...
(He goes on and on for what seems likes 5 hours , but is really only 90 minutes. At first I thought he was coked-up, but he just likes to talk about himself)
BB (cont): ...and I'm writing a comic book- hey, didn't you used to write comic books?. Maybe you could give me some pointers.
Me: Well, yeah. First, you have to-
BB (interrupts again) : I've got this story that's really boring, but then I had this idea...and the first guy , who's like the hero kinda main character guy-
Me (forcing in a word) :Protaganist?
BB: ? Well, sorta, I guess, except he's the good guy. I haven't come up with a bad guy yet, but I did write this thing where the one guy says to this chick... and then he saves her... but it's gonna be funny, like a joke once I figure out who he fights so they can say stuff to each other...
I stop listening and start talking to a pretty girl standing nearby. She's cute and has just the right amount of glitter on her. Turns out she works at the Public Library ( no shit-I have this thing about librarian-types. Women and books turn me on. I guess I'm sick, but I digress)
BB (to Girl): Hey, I'm BugBear. I've got two Union cards and this paycheck and I write comics and work for Tom Hanks except for right now, but check out this tattoo...
Me: Hey Bug? Why don't I set up a microphone on the stage for you so you can tell the whole crowd about it?
He looks at the stage. "There's already a mic up there. If you can get the band to stop playing, I can promote my comic book."
He's serious.
My friends would love that- "hey, you don't mind taking a break for an hour or so in order for my pal BugBear to talk about his unnamed comic book, his broken van ,union cards and vast wealth?"
Pretty Girl laughs. She doesn't know me, but she can spot sarcasm when she sees it. She agrees to play a game of pinball with me in the back of the club. Pinball- not a euphemism- just flippers and jingling bells and now costs 50 cents a game etc. I love pinball and I love smart, sexy women-playing pinball with one is about as good as things get.
Until my Special Olympics Fan Club butts in.
My SOFC is just one guy. He's nice, but he's too smart to be retarded and too stupid to be anything else. I recorded some stuff for a band that he hangs out with and now he thinks I'm some sort of guru or something.
I'm playing pinball with a Very Pretty Girl. She's also cool. Until SOFC starts talking about how he wants to be an intern so that I can teach him everything I know and he thinks he could learn a lot if he spends a few years training with me (what's this shit? a few years?) and he just won't shut up or go away.
I'm playing pinball with a Very Pretty Girl and her first impression is that all my friends are either drunken fuckwits or drooling halfwits.
She left while SOFC was prattling on about how confusing microphones are.
I didn't even get her number.
Never , ever interrupt me when I'm playing pinball with a sexy librarian.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Again With This?
Agency Girl called today. Seems the Bank called and asked for me by name. It's a different project. It has a 5-week training program, which worries me. If you added up my days attended for my entire high school career, I doubt they'd amount to 5 weeks. Still, it's good pay.
Weird. Just a few days ago Agency Girl and I were exchanging angry words- now she's offering a raise. I was trying to explain this bizarre dynamic to a friend of mine. His advice? He said I should 'date' her and get it over with. He said she probably wants to 'date' me because I ignore her and the Agency rules, never apologize for anything and generally don't seem to give a shit about anything.In other words, according to my pal, some women are strongly attracted to bad men. Maybe he's right. My friend seems like a real jerk until you know him, and every time we go out , some girl hits on him-not me- and he's uglier than I am! But he doesn't follow through, because he really does love his wife. In my eyes, that proves he's not a jerk.
Just 'date' her, he urged me.
He used a word other than 'date'.
Actually he said "hate fuck".
Don't think I haven't thought about it.
Oh well, training doesn't start until the 22nd, since they said I already knew all the stuff being covered next week. I should get my car tuned-up and go visit my Granny now that I know I can afford it.
-----
Oh yeah, check this: The University of Richmond radio station is jealous of us and challenged us to a kickball game. What happened to softball games? Anyway, those sheltered momma's boys are gonna lose, which means they have to sing the Tea-Pot song ("I'm a little tea-pot...") on our station.
One of our DJ's is nicknamed "ThunderFoot" and played in the Brazilian Pro Kickball League for 15 years. We will crush them!
Weird. Just a few days ago Agency Girl and I were exchanging angry words- now she's offering a raise. I was trying to explain this bizarre dynamic to a friend of mine. His advice? He said I should 'date' her and get it over with. He said she probably wants to 'date' me because I ignore her and the Agency rules, never apologize for anything and generally don't seem to give a shit about anything.In other words, according to my pal, some women are strongly attracted to bad men. Maybe he's right. My friend seems like a real jerk until you know him, and every time we go out , some girl hits on him-not me- and he's uglier than I am! But he doesn't follow through, because he really does love his wife. In my eyes, that proves he's not a jerk.
Just 'date' her, he urged me.
He used a word other than 'date'.
Actually he said "hate fuck".
Don't think I haven't thought about it.
Oh well, training doesn't start until the 22nd, since they said I already knew all the stuff being covered next week. I should get my car tuned-up and go visit my Granny now that I know I can afford it.
-----
Oh yeah, check this: The University of Richmond radio station is jealous of us and challenged us to a kickball game. What happened to softball games? Anyway, those sheltered momma's boys are gonna lose, which means they have to sing the Tea-Pot song ("I'm a little tea-pot...") on our station.
One of our DJ's is nicknamed "ThunderFoot" and played in the Brazilian Pro Kickball League for 15 years. We will crush them!
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Hey, C'mon In
Howdy! Thanks for stopping by. We're on the second floor of the two-brownish buildings in the middle.
I'd like to give you a hand carrying all that stuff up the stairs, but I , er, um have a bad back. I mean arm. But let me put that beer in the fridge for you.
Smiling people will greet you as you enter. (L to R, Dustin, tinydj and James)
Mike on the mic in Studio A. Shhhh... he's on-the-air.
This is where I work- Studio B.
A prime example of "guerilla wiring". Somehow, it all works.
Vicki and Christian acting goofy:
Ok. Time for the meeting. Squeeze down this here hallway.
Quite a turn-out. Here's a seat in the back.
And a view from the front:
I like the skylights, stained glass and plants.
Meeting is over. Mingle a bit.
Our meetings are really cool. Due to neccesity, many of us communicate through email, phone calls and post-it notes, so it's nice to be able to meet in person. The networking aspect doesn't hurt either- helps me find free-lance audio work. Don't know why, but I keep getting complimented on my engineering prowess. If I can find a handful of bands to work with, I won't have to worry about finding a job. Many phone numbers were exchanged-I hope something comes of it.
On the down-side, we still need somewhere to hold the concert. Rich Guy doesn't want the publicity, as his fan base is ultra-conservative and might boycott him or something. He didn't phrase it like that, but it's not hard to figure out. Still, since we are shooting for late spring/early summer of next year, something should turn up. We may have to charge a few sheckles, but it'll the idea is to keep it cheaper than a movie.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by. Hope you enjoyed it.
I'd like to give you a hand carrying all that stuff up the stairs, but I , er, um have a bad back. I mean arm. But let me put that beer in the fridge for you.
Smiling people will greet you as you enter. (L to R, Dustin, tinydj and James)
Mike on the mic in Studio A. Shhhh... he's on-the-air.
This is where I work- Studio B.
A prime example of "guerilla wiring". Somehow, it all works.
Vicki and Christian acting goofy:
Ok. Time for the meeting. Squeeze down this here hallway.
Quite a turn-out. Here's a seat in the back.
And a view from the front:
I like the skylights, stained glass and plants.
Meeting is over. Mingle a bit.
Our meetings are really cool. Due to neccesity, many of us communicate through email, phone calls and post-it notes, so it's nice to be able to meet in person. The networking aspect doesn't hurt either- helps me find free-lance audio work. Don't know why, but I keep getting complimented on my engineering prowess. If I can find a handful of bands to work with, I won't have to worry about finding a job. Many phone numbers were exchanged-I hope something comes of it.
On the down-side, we still need somewhere to hold the concert. Rich Guy doesn't want the publicity, as his fan base is ultra-conservative and might boycott him or something. He didn't phrase it like that, but it's not hard to figure out. Still, since we are shooting for late spring/early summer of next year, something should turn up. We may have to charge a few sheckles, but it'll the idea is to keep it cheaper than a movie.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by. Hope you enjoyed it.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Closure?
I broke down and called Old Flame Lenore tonight. She sounded glad to hear from me, which was a pleasant surprise.
I thought she hated me.
She thought I hated her.
It turns out we were both wrong.
She actually read some of my blogs about her, and she liked them. She said it reminded her of the sappy poetry I was fond of writing on bar napkins and giving to her. Geez. Did I really do that?
Yes, I did. She kept them all.
We didn't mention the elephant in the corner.
She said she's let her hair grow long. I wanted to tell her how beautiful that she is , but I didn't. I mentioned the weather instead of how much I miss her. I wanted to say so much, but I didn't.
I suck.
We talked about the old job a bit, and there was unspoken agreement that we shouldn't see each other again. But absence makes the heart do funny things. Who knows?
I'm just glad we don't hate each other. She's a lot cooler than I used to give her credit for.
It was a good call. That's all it was . Just a phone call to say "hi". Hello. That's all. Nothing more.
But I still didn't feel like being alone, so I walked to a nearby pub (Bogart's) and saw my new pals Robin and Mark play. They had just played live at the station Saturday (their 2nd visit); it was nice to see them play live while the songs were still fresh in my head. They sounded great! They are a nice couple. Working with them is fun. They both have great humour of sense. Mark makes a funny face when he plays the wrong note ( not very often) but he's got such a polished and manic guitar style that the audience never notices.
Robin? She's a wonder. On the surface, she sounds upbeat in a kinda hippie way, but her lyrics often veer into the "negative vibe" zone. Depression, duct-taped hearts, dope deaths and destructive relationships are recurring themes. Great story-telling skills.
Things kinda get lost when the whole band plays though. They played great, but the occasional aimless Grateful Dead beat sometimes just doesn't fit the words. Most of the set was very tight and focused, it's just difficult for me to be objective after hearing Robin and Mark play as a duet.
I tend to get emotionally drawn into the songs of bands that I like working with, which disqualifies me from writing objective criticism.
The audience was groovin', which is good, but it reminds me that no one cares about lyrics anymore, which is bad.
DJ Scott was there too, and we talked about putting together a medium-sized outdoor concert to promote the station and raise funds for any number of local causes. We had bourbon enthusiasm for a myriad of worthy , public-minded causes, but we can hash those out when we are un-pubbed.
The cool thing is: We can do it. The station is getting a lot of favorable press; we have a waiting list of live bands and the ability to promote the show on-air. Having an FCC license will make it much easier to obtain the permits and such that are required to have a legit outdoor show. I like the idea. It's not gonna be Woodstock polooza V9.99 or anything, just a day's worth of regional acts playing for free in front of 1 or 2 thousand people. Hopefully, we can get a private land-use permit from one of our donors. He's a rich and famous singer-but anonymous and a very cool dude. I know who he is.
Hah Ha! It's really a funny (G-rated) story about how I met Rich Guy, but I can't tell you. If he lets us use his land for a concert I can tell, since everyone here knows where his land is and will be able to do the 'ah-hah!'
All things considered , it was a good night, but I'm still kinda lonely and anxious. I feel weird. I usually don't mind being alone, but tonight (this morning) brings an unfamilar and disconcerting vibe.
An undecided sort of feeling. I think something, a change to be sure, a change that's very large and important -at least in a small world way- is getting ready to happen , and that it's up to me to decide if it's for good or for bad.
Whatever's coming, it won't be easy.
I have to make it worth it.
I have to make it good.
Adulthood sure is tough sometimes.
Oh fuck. I'll just say it and hope you understand:
Never say nevermore.
Yet still I long for sweet Lenore.
I thought she hated me.
She thought I hated her.
It turns out we were both wrong.
She actually read some of my blogs about her, and she liked them. She said it reminded her of the sappy poetry I was fond of writing on bar napkins and giving to her. Geez. Did I really do that?
Yes, I did. She kept them all.
We didn't mention the elephant in the corner.
She said she's let her hair grow long. I wanted to tell her how beautiful that she is , but I didn't. I mentioned the weather instead of how much I miss her. I wanted to say so much, but I didn't.
I suck.
We talked about the old job a bit, and there was unspoken agreement that we shouldn't see each other again. But absence makes the heart do funny things. Who knows?
I'm just glad we don't hate each other. She's a lot cooler than I used to give her credit for.
It was a good call. That's all it was . Just a phone call to say "hi". Hello. That's all. Nothing more.
But I still didn't feel like being alone, so I walked to a nearby pub (Bogart's) and saw my new pals Robin and Mark play. They had just played live at the station Saturday (their 2nd visit); it was nice to see them play live while the songs were still fresh in my head. They sounded great! They are a nice couple. Working with them is fun. They both have great humour of sense. Mark makes a funny face when he plays the wrong note ( not very often) but he's got such a polished and manic guitar style that the audience never notices.
Robin? She's a wonder. On the surface, she sounds upbeat in a kinda hippie way, but her lyrics often veer into the "negative vibe" zone. Depression, duct-taped hearts, dope deaths and destructive relationships are recurring themes. Great story-telling skills.
Things kinda get lost when the whole band plays though. They played great, but the occasional aimless Grateful Dead beat sometimes just doesn't fit the words. Most of the set was very tight and focused, it's just difficult for me to be objective after hearing Robin and Mark play as a duet.
I tend to get emotionally drawn into the songs of bands that I like working with, which disqualifies me from writing objective criticism.
The audience was groovin', which is good, but it reminds me that no one cares about lyrics anymore, which is bad.
DJ Scott was there too, and we talked about putting together a medium-sized outdoor concert to promote the station and raise funds for any number of local causes. We had bourbon enthusiasm for a myriad of worthy , public-minded causes, but we can hash those out when we are un-pubbed.
The cool thing is: We can do it. The station is getting a lot of favorable press; we have a waiting list of live bands and the ability to promote the show on-air. Having an FCC license will make it much easier to obtain the permits and such that are required to have a legit outdoor show. I like the idea. It's not gonna be Woodstock polooza V9.99 or anything, just a day's worth of regional acts playing for free in front of 1 or 2 thousand people. Hopefully, we can get a private land-use permit from one of our donors. He's a rich and famous singer-but anonymous and a very cool dude. I know who he is.
Hah Ha! It's really a funny (G-rated) story about how I met Rich Guy, but I can't tell you. If he lets us use his land for a concert I can tell, since everyone here knows where his land is and will be able to do the 'ah-hah!'
All things considered , it was a good night, but I'm still kinda lonely and anxious. I feel weird. I usually don't mind being alone, but tonight (this morning) brings an unfamilar and disconcerting vibe.
An undecided sort of feeling. I think something, a change to be sure, a change that's very large and important -at least in a small world way- is getting ready to happen , and that it's up to me to decide if it's for good or for bad.
Whatever's coming, it won't be easy.
I have to make it worth it.
I have to make it good.
Adulthood sure is tough sometimes.
Oh fuck. I'll just say it and hope you understand:
Never say nevermore.
Yet still I long for sweet Lenore.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Fired Again, Hired Again
I sure do need a real job. This morning I thought I was filling in for a vacationing secretary, which was sorta true. What I wasn't told was that I'd be working in a loud-ass industrial environment. Giant bulk-mail machines running all the time, at a volume that makes the Chicago subway seem as quiet as whispering grass in a secluded glade. Everyone was yelling. I know that yell- my ol' roomie used to dress-up in monster outfits and sing for a band called Gwar. He never protected his hearing, consequently he's deaf as a post. He always yells.
At lunch-time, I noticed my ears were ringing. I've got some audio production work tonight, and I can't do that with ringing-of-ears. I couldn't find a boss anywhere, so I drove round the corner and talked to Agency Girl.
She was very angry- no one else complains about the noise- why am I whining about it?
Trying very hard to refrain from calling her a "bitch-person", I explain that the other temps probably don't free-lance as audio engineers. I've been playing/producing music for 20 years, and I always use
aural protection.
Always.
My ears are my life. Can't you find me a nice quiet damncube somewhere?
"Sorry, Mr. C******, we will have to remove you from our roster. You've walked off of too many jobs".
Fine. Whatever. I go home.
The phone rings. It's Agency Bitch. Would I be interested in stuffing envelopes at Crapital One for $9 an hour? I reminder her that that is one of the jobs I've walked out on. Once again I go into my spiel: It's gotta be $15+ an hour. I'm only looking for administrative work. No labor, no mailings, no call-centers, no warehouses and no drug-tests.
I'm good enough to get away with my attitude.
Would I like to be placed back into active status?
Sure. Why not?
Jeez, what a screwed-up work relationship.
At lunch-time, I noticed my ears were ringing. I've got some audio production work tonight, and I can't do that with ringing-of-ears. I couldn't find a boss anywhere, so I drove round the corner and talked to Agency Girl.
She was very angry- no one else complains about the noise- why am I whining about it?
Trying very hard to refrain from calling her a "bitch-person", I explain that the other temps probably don't free-lance as audio engineers. I've been playing/producing music for 20 years, and I always use
aural protection.
Always.
My ears are my life. Can't you find me a nice quiet damncube somewhere?
"Sorry, Mr. C******, we will have to remove you from our roster. You've walked off of too many jobs".
Fine. Whatever. I go home.
The phone rings. It's Agency Bitch. Would I be interested in stuffing envelopes at Crapital One for $9 an hour? I reminder her that that is one of the jobs I've walked out on. Once again I go into my spiel: It's gotta be $15+ an hour. I'm only looking for administrative work. No labor, no mailings, no call-centers, no warehouses and no drug-tests.
I'm good enough to get away with my attitude.
Would I like to be placed back into active status?
Sure. Why not?
Jeez, what a screwed-up work relationship.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Dad Calls
I tried to go to sleep early tonight in order to be fresh for the new temp job, but dear ol' Dad put the kibosh on all that.
He called me tonight. First time in many years-probably at least six, maybe longer. I didn't even know he had my phone number.
Seeing his phone # come up on the ID scared the shit out of me. I was afraid it was about my Grandmother. He hung up after two rings. Then he calls again and hangs up on the first ring. Oh, god, I'm not ready for this bad news, whatever it is, but I call him back anyway.
Grandmother is fine, but Dad isn't doing so hot. He's drunker than a roomful of priests and feeling really sorry for himself. It's all other people's fault. By all, I mean everything that's wrong with his life, which is a lot of shit to pin on others.
This is the man who took us to a Jack-in -the Box one Thanksgiving because he was too loaded to drive to our Grandparent's house.
This is the man who once told me that the birth of the Twin and I ruined his life.
The last time he's had a job was about the same time that the Beatles broke up.
When his second ex-wife had a heart attack, he was too drunk to take her to the hospital. He never even visited her. After her bypass , she divorced his ass and threw him out of her house.
One of the last things my Mom told me was, "I will never forgive your father ". She told me why.
I'm the only living person who knows what she meant. It's staying that way.
So he calls me . Sad. He has no friends-not a single one. That's his fault, not mine. Sad.
He's so pathetic that I can't lash into him in the way I should. Instead ,I hang up on him and call my Granny. She's very upset, but her Pastor and Big Mike ( a family pal / local cop) are already looking into what treatment is available.
Aside: Big Mike is a very cool cop. When I was on Federal probation, I needed a contact person in order to visit my Granny. I didn't want my GM to know I'd been busted, so Mike agreed to vouch for me.
So I turn on the TV, and a journalist is giving a Peter Jennings tribute. When he was her boss, he gave her lots of time off to attend to consecutive pregnancies. She said that he told her that ,"making things right with your children is the most important thing you can do".
My Mom knew that. (She also died of lung cancer). She did everything she could to make it better. I can't write about her without crying.
I wish I could forgive my Dad, but I don't think I can. It's up to him to help himself.
He called me tonight. First time in many years-probably at least six, maybe longer. I didn't even know he had my phone number.
Seeing his phone # come up on the ID scared the shit out of me. I was afraid it was about my Grandmother. He hung up after two rings. Then he calls again and hangs up on the first ring. Oh, god, I'm not ready for this bad news, whatever it is, but I call him back anyway.
Grandmother is fine, but Dad isn't doing so hot. He's drunker than a roomful of priests and feeling really sorry for himself. It's all other people's fault. By all, I mean everything that's wrong with his life, which is a lot of shit to pin on others.
This is the man who took us to a Jack-in -the Box one Thanksgiving because he was too loaded to drive to our Grandparent's house.
This is the man who once told me that the birth of the Twin and I ruined his life.
The last time he's had a job was about the same time that the Beatles broke up.
When his second ex-wife had a heart attack, he was too drunk to take her to the hospital. He never even visited her. After her bypass , she divorced his ass and threw him out of her house.
One of the last things my Mom told me was, "I will never forgive your father ". She told me why.
I'm the only living person who knows what she meant. It's staying that way.
So he calls me . Sad. He has no friends-not a single one. That's his fault, not mine. Sad.
He's so pathetic that I can't lash into him in the way I should. Instead ,I hang up on him and call my Granny. She's very upset, but her Pastor and Big Mike ( a family pal / local cop) are already looking into what treatment is available.
Aside: Big Mike is a very cool cop. When I was on Federal probation, I needed a contact person in order to visit my Granny. I didn't want my GM to know I'd been busted, so Mike agreed to vouch for me.
So I turn on the TV, and a journalist is giving a Peter Jennings tribute. When he was her boss, he gave her lots of time off to attend to consecutive pregnancies. She said that he told her that ,"making things right with your children is the most important thing you can do".
My Mom knew that. (She also died of lung cancer). She did everything she could to make it better. I can't write about her without crying.
I wish I could forgive my Dad, but I don't think I can. It's up to him to help himself.
Puddle v. Pebble, Pete v. Pope
A quick review of my finances has forced me to call the temp agency. Wadda ya know? They need someone to fill-in for a vacationing secretary. Only 5 days, but that's OK-it's decent pay.
Huh? Can I come in and take a drug test?
Never mind. Call me if something else comes up.
I hang up the phone and start counting backwards from one hundred.
At 68, the phone rings. It's Temp Girl.
Can I start tomorrow morning and work until Friday? Turns out they need someone now and are willing to forego the pissing-in-cup thing. See ya in the morning.
What a stupid game we play, the Agency and I.
They offer a job and tell me I need to pee-test.
I say- no, thank you very much.
They call back and waive the test.
I bet they just input my data as "Tested-Clean" and charge their clients a testing fee anyway.
Really. No matter how lowly the corporate position, it generates ripples of corruption. Depending on the relative size of the pebble vs. the puddle, these can quickly escalate into tsunami-size waves.
--------
Being unemployed lets one catch up on daytime TV. Yippee.
Weird development- CNN seems to be relying on Bloggers for a lot of it's content. They've got a couple perky lasses who actually report on what the blogs are saying.
Problem: They only "report" on issues that are already in the headlines. For example, the blogs all agree that Peter Jennings is dead. Cable news reports confirm this. On the ball, they are.
I bet that the mainstream media and the blogs also agreed that Pope JP died and stayed dead. And Reagan? He obviously wasn't the Messiah, 'cause the press kept watch on his corpse for weeks, and it didn't rise fom the grave even once.
Breaking News: Marilyn Monroe is also dead.
Huh? Can I come in and take a drug test?
Never mind. Call me if something else comes up.
I hang up the phone and start counting backwards from one hundred.
At 68, the phone rings. It's Temp Girl.
Can I start tomorrow morning and work until Friday? Turns out they need someone now and are willing to forego the pissing-in-cup thing. See ya in the morning.
What a stupid game we play, the Agency and I.
They offer a job and tell me I need to pee-test.
I say- no, thank you very much.
They call back and waive the test.
I bet they just input my data as "Tested-Clean" and charge their clients a testing fee anyway.
Really. No matter how lowly the corporate position, it generates ripples of corruption. Depending on the relative size of the pebble vs. the puddle, these can quickly escalate into tsunami-size waves.
--------
Being unemployed lets one catch up on daytime TV. Yippee.
Weird development- CNN seems to be relying on Bloggers for a lot of it's content. They've got a couple perky lasses who actually report on what the blogs are saying.
Problem: They only "report" on issues that are already in the headlines. For example, the blogs all agree that Peter Jennings is dead. Cable news reports confirm this. On the ball, they are.
I bet that the mainstream media and the blogs also agreed that Pope JP died and stayed dead. And Reagan? He obviously wasn't the Messiah, 'cause the press kept watch on his corpse for weeks, and it didn't rise fom the grave even once.
Breaking News: Marilyn Monroe is also dead.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Happy Gathering
Today we had a staff meeting at the station . I love our meetings-I got to meet a lot of new volunteers and say farewell to a couple-old timers who are moving on . Best wishes to them-I'm sure they'll do well. Our Music Director, the tinydj, directed the meeting and did her usual great job. She pointed out what an amazingly talented and dedicated group of people make the station run. She's quite correct.
It gave my Inner Socialist a warm fuzzy.
Everyone has a specialty; news, music DJ (of all genres), talk-show host, office clerk, engineering, etc., but we all pitch in on phone duty, dishes, cleaning and stuff as well.
I even got a special award for being such a great soundguy and Senior member. (Has it been that long?) I was given a Chinese silk bag containing energy drinks and power bars. That's a pretty damn funny 'inside joke' to anyone who's seen me work/eat in the studio. Last Saturday I had my pie-hole full of mouth-drying energy bar when DJ Scott turned the mic on me and asked me what I thought about the ambient song he had just played.
" It reminds me of watching fish sleep until they get so mellow that they float to the top", was my reply.
On the air it sounded like ," Mmrmmdsmuwchfs...". Ha ha.
Scott, I will get you for that. Watch yer back.
Learned something new today. We are getting a big-ass grant from the City of Richmond. I knew that already, but what I didn't know why. Here's why:
In 2003/2004 Richmond suffered two devasting storms. Hundreds of thousands of people had no power and water for days, even weeks. Roads were washed out everywhere.
So FEMA calls all the local radio stations so they can announce where fresh water, food and shelter were available. The only problem? Almost every local station is pre- programmed from some heartless corporate HQ and woefully unprepared to cover a live, local disaster.
Our grant includes money for back-up generators and low-power FEMA emergency broadcast access.
Anyway, I met a couple potential new volunteers for my Dept, had good food , cheap champagne and fun talkings and listenings. Nice.
Oh yeah, got my second budget proposal approved. Tomorrow: Internet shopping!
It gave my Inner Socialist a warm fuzzy.
Everyone has a specialty; news, music DJ (of all genres), talk-show host, office clerk, engineering, etc., but we all pitch in on phone duty, dishes, cleaning and stuff as well.
I even got a special award for being such a great soundguy and Senior member. (Has it been that long?) I was given a Chinese silk bag containing energy drinks and power bars. That's a pretty damn funny 'inside joke' to anyone who's seen me work/eat in the studio. Last Saturday I had my pie-hole full of mouth-drying energy bar when DJ Scott turned the mic on me and asked me what I thought about the ambient song he had just played.
" It reminds me of watching fish sleep until they get so mellow that they float to the top", was my reply.
On the air it sounded like ," Mmrmmdsmuwchfs...". Ha ha.
Scott, I will get you for that. Watch yer back.
Learned something new today. We are getting a big-ass grant from the City of Richmond. I knew that already, but what I didn't know why. Here's why:
In 2003/2004 Richmond suffered two devasting storms. Hundreds of thousands of people had no power and water for days, even weeks. Roads were washed out everywhere.
So FEMA calls all the local radio stations so they can announce where fresh water, food and shelter were available. The only problem? Almost every local station is pre- programmed from some heartless corporate HQ and woefully unprepared to cover a live, local disaster.
Our grant includes money for back-up generators and low-power FEMA emergency broadcast access.
Anyway, I met a couple potential new volunteers for my Dept, had good food , cheap champagne and fun talkings and listenings. Nice.
Oh yeah, got my second budget proposal approved. Tomorrow: Internet shopping!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Good, Bad ,Whatever
First the good news. This won't take long. I called my old boss from State Farm to give him a 'heads-up' that I'd used him as a reference-he said he'd give me an excellent recommendation. He should. I did some of my best blogging at that job. Then he reminded me that this Hurricane Season is supposed to be really bad and he'd ask for me if we get stormed. I hope a class 4 'Cane pounds Richmond into rubble. (We could call it Hurricane Grant) That's at least a years worth of $1,000 a week overtime pay.
The downside of this is that thousands of people will have their homes and property destroyed. That always sucks. Since property values in some parts of town have nearly doubled over the last year , many unfortunates will find themselves with inadequate coverage ( Homeowners in storm-ridden states take note!)
Believe it not, Old Boss told me that many folks who got flooded out by Isabel decided not to buy flood insurance- most of Richmond rarely, if ever floods. These risk-loving homeowners got flooded again by Trop. Storm Gaston. I bet that many of them are still trying to get help from FEMA.
What a bummer. I'd spend months acting as liaison between clients and contractors, scanning the before/after photos into their file and tracking the progress of the repairs until they were complete. Yay! The house looks great. Sure is raining hard, though.
Was that a sofa I just saw floating down a suburban street? It looks like the one in this photo.
And I'm sick of hearing how lucky the survivors of the Air France crash are. If they were really lucky, they wouldn't have been in a airliner wreck in the first place. I can hardly wait for the inevitable made-for-TV movie.
Hmmm... here's a thought for the 2006 election. Put all the candidates on an AirBus and crash it into a mountain-side. At 700 mph. The survivors get elected. The empty seats are replaced by cats and dogs randomly selected from shelters. Maybe a few baboons as well, if any are available. How much worse could it be? Could you even tell the difference?
The downside of this is that thousands of people will have their homes and property destroyed. That always sucks. Since property values in some parts of town have nearly doubled over the last year , many unfortunates will find themselves with inadequate coverage ( Homeowners in storm-ridden states take note!)
Believe it not, Old Boss told me that many folks who got flooded out by Isabel decided not to buy flood insurance- most of Richmond rarely, if ever floods. These risk-loving homeowners got flooded again by Trop. Storm Gaston. I bet that many of them are still trying to get help from FEMA.
What a bummer. I'd spend months acting as liaison between clients and contractors, scanning the before/after photos into their file and tracking the progress of the repairs until they were complete. Yay! The house looks great. Sure is raining hard, though.
Was that a sofa I just saw floating down a suburban street? It looks like the one in this photo.
And I'm sick of hearing how lucky the survivors of the Air France crash are. If they were really lucky, they wouldn't have been in a airliner wreck in the first place. I can hardly wait for the inevitable made-for-TV movie.
Hmmm... here's a thought for the 2006 election. Put all the candidates on an AirBus and crash it into a mountain-side. At 700 mph. The survivors get elected. The empty seats are replaced by cats and dogs randomly selected from shelters. Maybe a few baboons as well, if any are available. How much worse could it be? Could you even tell the difference?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Intelligent Design For Dummies
Have you ever noticed how complicated nature is? Birds fly. Fish don't drown. We don't fall off the planet, even when we stand up-side down in the southern hemisphere. It boggles the mind, does it not?
Of course it does. It should. Unless you are an atheistic Bookworm type. Or should I call you Bookwyrm, evil reader? Perhaps you have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge.
Sinner.
Liberal.
I bet you'd like to teach the children a philosophy of peace.
Feed the hungry.
Heal the sick.
Ridiculous. Who's gonna pay for that? The tax-exempt Churches? Those Churches earned their money the old-fashioned way- donations. Why waste that money on people who choose to be poor and sick?
Disgusting and lazy burdens on hard -working Christians.
I mean, if I knew I was going to be sick, I'd go out and get a job with a God-fearing company that offered full medical and unlimited leave time. How hard can it be to do that?
There's only one explanation for our universe: An omnipotent sentient entity created everything just to see what would happen, much as a small child tries to start a 'magic kingdom' of Sea-Monkeys. Nothing else makes sense.
The unenlightened will cry about science, theories and empirical evidence.
Tools of Satan!
Science can't explain some things, so it should be banned from all things, especially education , reproductive rights, religion and health care. We will never escape the yoke of Big Liberal Government unless immediate steps are taken to eliminate activist judges, overturn Roe v. Wade , enforce a Christian approach to public education, protect ourselves from socialized medicine, ban homosexuals from everything, and use conscription to enable our New Crusade.
The price of Freedom is freedom.
Blessings and Tithings,
Rev. "Sterling" Al Covar
Of course it does. It should. Unless you are an atheistic Bookworm type. Or should I call you Bookwyrm, evil reader? Perhaps you have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge.
Sinner.
Liberal.
I bet you'd like to teach the children a philosophy of peace.
Feed the hungry.
Heal the sick.
Ridiculous. Who's gonna pay for that? The tax-exempt Churches? Those Churches earned their money the old-fashioned way- donations. Why waste that money on people who choose to be poor and sick?
Disgusting and lazy burdens on hard -working Christians.
I mean, if I knew I was going to be sick, I'd go out and get a job with a God-fearing company that offered full medical and unlimited leave time. How hard can it be to do that?
There's only one explanation for our universe: An omnipotent sentient entity created everything just to see what would happen, much as a small child tries to start a 'magic kingdom' of Sea-Monkeys. Nothing else makes sense.
The unenlightened will cry about science, theories and empirical evidence.
Tools of Satan!
Science can't explain some things, so it should be banned from all things, especially education , reproductive rights, religion and health care. We will never escape the yoke of Big Liberal Government unless immediate steps are taken to eliminate activist judges, overturn Roe v. Wade , enforce a Christian approach to public education, protect ourselves from socialized medicine, ban homosexuals from everything, and use conscription to enable our New Crusade.
The price of Freedom is freedom.
Blessings and Tithings,
Rev. "Sterling" Al Covar
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