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Category Archives: paranoia

“Got no woman,
or a steady job.
Feeling like a cowboy
and looking like a slob….”


The Rutles
Living In Hope

Hey. What’s goin’ on?

When it comes to my job, I thought that I had seen it all…but no.

This was a classic.

The other day when I was rushing’ around to go to work, I hastily packed a lunch. It was three baby back ribs from Aldi’s. They were leftover from the weekend. They were pretty good ribs considering that I only paid 6 bucks for an entire slab of ’em. They were pre-cooked and bathed in BBQ sauce and were just the thing to hit the spot at 8 pm on a summer evening.

I had made 5 ribs the night before for my midnight meal and these three were the leftovers from that dinner.

Anyway, as I was searching the cupboards to find a container, I ran into a small snag. I couldn’t put it in my pink tupperware bowl because the ribs themselves were too large to fit in this particular round container. I moved on to a disposable Ziploc container that I had bought at Aldi’s… one of those clear things with the blue lid….this proved to be too large and would take up too much real estate in my backpack.

I then found a smaller Ziploc container and this proved to be too small as well. (But the ribs would “go” into the container-with a little force-so this was to be the container that I would use.)

I shoved the ribs into it, got the lid on it, threw it into my backpack and headed off to work.

I went into work, put my lunch into the fridge and set about my day.

At 8 pm, (which is our union sanctioned lunchbreak) I went to get the ribs. As I was walking over to the microwave I couldn’t help but notice that the container seemed a tad light.

That was weird.

I opened the container and was distressed to find that there were only two ribs in it. I stood there looking at it for a minute or two…because my brain was desperately trying to process what had taken place between the hours of 3:30 and 8…

That someone actually stole one rib from my lunch.

Paul (the guy I eat my lunch with) came over to stare into my twisted container with me after he noticed my facial distress from afar. I told him that somebody actually ate one of the ribs out of the container. He started laughing and when I didn’t start laughing with him, he really began to believe that I was actually serious.

I said, “Dude,…I put three bones in this thing at three o’clock and now there’s two”.

He looked at the container, which was all bent and and kind of twisted from me trying to get the three bones in there, and he even deduced that it looked like it held somethin’ more than the two bones that currently resided.

We stood there looking at each other as to try and make sense of the current critical situation.

Is it possible that I was mistaken?

No!

I transferred three bones into three different containers before I left the house! There was no question that there were three bones in there!

And now there was two!

Now, since the thought that someone pawed over my lunch was just too un-appetizing for me to comprehend, I took the remaining bones and threw them out and sat and pouted while Paul ate his boloney and ketchup sandwich.

Not much was said during our lunch break…but the latent underlying issue was still there.

Who…would actually go into someone else’s lunch…and eat just one spare-rib?

I knew it wasn’t Paul because…well…it’s Paul.

Paul doesn’t go in the fridge cause it’s a dark and scary place. I don’t like to go in the fridge because it’s a dark and scary place…but since meat has this “thing” about being refrigerated, I have to put my lunch in there.

I really don’t think this was a personal affront because my name wasn’t on the container and no one saw me put it in there. I think this was just someone who was hungry and decided to rummage aound in the fridge to see what there was to gnosh.

Isn’t that a bit scary?

How many times have I put something in there that I DIDN’T know was pawed over before lunchtime? If I brought spaghetti, how would I know that someone didn’t stand there eating it with his or her own bare hands?

Is this an isolated incident or is this something that is running rampant?

You can’t tell management about something like this either. They would just look at you like you were crazy…or laugh…or quickly dismiss it out of hand because they actually KNOW who did it and are working hard at trying to protect the guilty party. Trying to protect one of their own, as it were.

Paul speculated that it might be the president of the company.

I dismissed it because the president of the company, on that particular day, was wearing a powder blue shirt and no one in their right mind would eat BBQ spareribs while wearing a powder blue shirt. Too much room for error.

He agreed.

No, I think this was someone “on the floor”, as it were. Someone who knew the inner-machinations and the dietary habits of the people and their environs. Someone who has access to the fridge and could go in there unfettered. Someone who could pretend like they’re looking for his or her own lunch when, in reality, they’re actually just standing there pawing over and eating other people’s food.

This is a guy who could blend into the background. A guy who would say “Sup” as you walked by. A guy who can strike and disappear.

I walked around the plant looking in the various garbage cans placed hither and yon…to see if I could find a discarded rib-bone perched majestically upon a mound a refuse…but it was to no avail.

This kind of put a damper on the rest of the night…for Paulie as well. He went over to the bulletin board and pulled down a memo from the president. It was about some stolen material and what they’re going do when they get their hands on the guilty party.

He xeroxed it and, on the copy, crossed out the part where it says “stolen copper braiding” and wrote in “stolen rib-bone”.

Even though I laughed, I was still kind of depressed about it.

(pause)

I just feel so violated.

Anyway…

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“As I walk through,
This wicked world,
Searchin’ for light in the darkness of insanity,
I ask myself,
Is all hope lost?,
Is there only pain and hatred and misery?”


Elvis Costello
(Whats so funny ’bout) Peace Love and Understanding

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I find it truly disconcerting that after fifty-three years of life on this planet, there actually is someone who could call cole slaw,”cold slaw”,…without a hint of self-consciousness or shame. When I hear this type of bombastic banter, I don’t correct, cajole or even laugh. I let it pass with the silence of a sparrow.

It’s not the fact that the person doesn’t know better. I think it’s more the fact that, to him at least, it sounds more pleasing to the indiscriminate ear. Not withstanding, of course, my own ears, which happen to be more discriminate than the next set of fifty-year-old ears.

Cole slaw is, indeed, cold. It is not, however, called “cold” slaw for that reason.

Whatever the reason is,…(of which, I do not know, because the origins of the cole slaw escapes me at the present moment)….as to why it’s not denoted with the “cold” prefix,…instead of the regular ol’ “cole”…remains a mystery for the ages.

I would be remiss to not say that I don’t think it makes a lot of sense NOT to call it cold slaw, as the verbal pronunciation could remain as a reminder to us that this particular dish requires refrigeration, but the simple fact remains that our fathers, and their fathers before them, called this scrumptious cabbage delight, “cole slaw”.

Therefore, we must adapt ourselves accordingly. We must continue on in the tradition that was taught to us as young children. We must adhere to the bindings of this verbal usage.

I do not, however, look down upon those who make the innocent mistake of calling this gastronomic delight, “cold slaw”. It simply doesn’t make sense for me to point out the fact that their butchery of this innocuous title is something that they should feel inferior about.

I am, simply put, not that ‘mean of spirit’ as it were.

Some would argue to the contrary. Some would say, that by simply writing this essay, I am, indeed, that mean of spirit.

I say bullocks to that.

There is nothing more distracting than to hear someone call cole slaw, “cold slaw”. The articulation of the term “cold slaw” is increasingly demonstrative of the fact that we are, indeed, a TV nation who depend more upon the mistakenly heard word than the written word.

It is a sorry reflection upon the collective, “we”. I do not wish to be lumped into the masses who call cole slaw, “cold slaw”. To do so would be a mistake.

However, if,…when ordering food from a Jewish deli,…I am in the company of a person who uses the word, “cold” immediately prior to the word “slaw”, I am in danger, by my simple silence, of being in agreement with the incorrect term, of which, I am most decidedly, NOT.

This, of course, creates a pickle.

I am left with the awkward task of having to use the correct term. I am the one who, by using the correct verbiage, is made out to be the villain in this scenario, when all I wanna do is simply order a fatty corned beef sandwich with cole slaw and baked beans.

Let us not pretend to be something that we are not. Let us not pretend that the incorrect use of the word ‘cold’ does not bother us. Should we, as caring brothers of our fellow-man, stand mute when this verbal faux pas transpires in our presence? I answer that with a resounding NO!…but we should do it anyway.

Stand mute, that is, if only to (perish the thought) save others from the embarrassment that is tantamount to the soiling of one’s own pants in a very public forum. If we are the strongest nation on the face of the planet, then we must not appear as dolts when referring to our finely chopped cabbage friend as “cold”,….Yes?…but we do because we are afraid to correct our other, less learned friends,….aren’t we?

Let’s all get on board and present a unified spirit to the rest of the world.

Let’s drop the l d in favor of the correct l e,…o k?

E and D are only one letter apart….but they can do a lot of damage when in the wrong hands.

…and,…while we’re at it….as we tarry forth into the great unknown of the new century, I find it amazing that a person,….who has been on this planet for 46 years,….actually refers to the hats that I wear as “berets”…..

They’re “newsboy” hats.

What other foods are like that? Where the name is butchered to actually represent something in the name?

Anyway,….

“And the sign said “Long-haired freaky people need not apply,”
So I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why,
He said, “You look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do,”
So I took off my hat, I said “Imagine that. Huh! Me workin’ for you!”
Whoa-oh-oh!……”

I was toiling at my job today when the song, “Signs”, scrolled across the ol’ pod. It has been a standard for the counter-culture for as long as I can remember. The song has spanned generations and still gets radio play with great frequency.

Some things birthed by The Five Man Electrical Band are just born to stay, I guess.

Not a bad song, on the whole, but during the 3 or so minutes of the song, it actually gives a black eye to the counter-culture movement rather than praise it…as it was originally intended to do.

The irony of it all is really quite sobering if you think about it.

My witness to the song is neither to the right or the left. I actually, truth be told, swing to the conservative end of the spectrum whilst doing my best to look like a lefty of the old guard. I guess what I mean is that I look like a hippy, yet tend to vote non-Democrat….and it hasn’t always been that way either. There was a time I was truly a Democrat. I understand where they’re comin’ from, man.

The thing about this song is found in it’s human-ness. It’s just the typical selfish attitude of, “I want what I want when I want it”. We all fall victim to that once in a while,…but when it’s enhanced and condensed into a three minute song, there’s just something about those lyrics that can truly grate on a person’s nerves.

Here’s what I mean.

We take this first set of lyrics:

“And the sign said “Long-haired freaky people need not apply,”
So, I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why,
He said, “You look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do,”
So I took off my hat, I said “Imagine that. Huh! Me workin’ for you!”
Whoa-oh-oh!

Granted, this young man is angry for some reason. Since the song starts there, we do not know the cause of his anger. You can even hear it in his voice when he starts singing. He already has a chip on his shoulder.

We can garner, due to his piqued fury, that the sign he read may have been paraphrased due to his anger. But we don’t know this, do we? It could have very well said, “Clean-cut gentlemen wanted for food preparation. Must wear hair-net. Interested applicants please apply inside. Thank You.”

If he were to truly put up a sign that said, “Long-haired freaky people need not apply,”, he would probably have a law suit levied against him by the ACLU,….which could be pretty pricey when it comes to court costs. Small business owners tend to know when to pick their battles in cases of possible legal interjection and potential legal injunctions.

Be that as it may, because of his attitude, he felt he had to play some shenanigans with the shop owner or restauranteur who kindly complimented him on his appearance and offered him a job so he could EARN some money….but then the young man decided hat the best course was to deride and ridicule the person who was offering him gainful employment.

Moving on….

“And the sign said anybody caught trespassin’ would be shot on sight,
So I jumped on the fence and-a yelled at the house,
“Hey! What gives you the right?,
To put up a fence to keep me out or to keep mother nature in,
If God was here he’d tell you to your face, Man, you’re some kinda sinner!….”

Now, here our hero decides that it’s a dashed good idea to provoke home-owners by testing the limits as to how far he can go before the owner of the property actually pulls a gun and shoots him because he feels threatened by him. It becomes a wanton disregard to his own safety to do this because the right to bear arms is very clear in matters of self-defense. People have a right to protect themselves from unstable people who tread onto and into their property uninvited. There are trespassing laws, young man. They are on the books and have been for a very, very long time. Even in 2014, people can own property,…and have the right to protect that property and the souls that dwell on that property.

As a side note, the declaration about whether or not God is here shows a true lack of theological knowledge. To say “if” means you’re not too sure. If you invoke the name of God and brazenly presume to know what He would say in this particular given instance, then that means you have a simple, cursory understanding of who He is,…and your presumption that you can actually anticipate what He would say truly makes you seemingly above God….or greater than. That is called, “Mania” my friend. They have medication for that now.

Moving on,…

“Now, hey you, mister, can’t you read?
You’ve got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat,
You can’t even watch, no you can’t eat,
You ain’t supposed to be here,
The sign said you got to have a membership card to get inside….
Ugh!….”

Here we get into your philosophy, young man. In those five lines uttered, you have turned the looking glass upon yourself. In your reckless abandon of fury, you have decided that any and all rules and regulations are simply fallow and unjust because it doesn’t include your unblemished and regimented train of thought. Some places, if you don’t have a tie, they give you one free of charge! As far as membership cards go, I can’t go to the local BJ’s because I never applied for a card. If I were to take the time to do so, I would be admitted. I just don’t know what I would do with that much Ramen or spaghetti sauce, that’s all. I choose not to get a card,…but I can if I so desire. It takes all of five minutes. You have much more than five minutes available,….you just turned down a job….

Moving on,…

“And the sign said, “Everybody welcome. Come in, kneel down and pray,”
But when they passed around the plate at the end of it all,
I didn’t have a penny to pay,
So I got me a pen and a paper and I made up my own little sign,
I said, “Thank you, Lord, for thinkin’ ’bout me. I’m alive and doin’ fine.”
Wooo!…..”

And here is where we come full circle, my job-less friend. Need I remind you that not more than 2 minutes ago, you were offered gainful employment which you turned down with no chance of another interview. That’s why you didn’t have a penny to pay,….which, theologically speaking, you are not paying anything. You are tithing. That is supposed to be 10% of your total income. Now, say, if you found ten dollars in the street, you would be obliged to “tithe” one dollar,….and your actions in that would then be multiplied. It is the only area in which God says we can “test” Him. But you already know that since you know what God is gonna say before He says it, correct?

So,…you see, my loud-mouthed friend,…..that commie crap only goes so far. We are not communist yet,…..close, but not yet. My advice to you is to go back to school, get a degree and become a part of society. The way you live is way too hard and way too in the dark. I applaud you for your determination to stick to your principals, but they are doing you more harm than good.

You can still be a rebel. There’s no problem there. You can smart off to the boss when you have seniority. Just focus a bit. Gain some footing,…but this moving around ten times in a three minute song just ain’t gonna pay off, man. Tom Hayden and Abbie Hoffman had to pay their dues to become credible.

You should too.

Anyway,…

“I may be vile and pernicious,
But you can’t look away,
I make you think I’m delicious,
With the stuff that I say,
I’m the best you can get,
Have you guessed me yet?
I’m the slime oozin’ out,
From your TV set,….”


Frank Zappa
I’m The Slime

The top ten things I learned this week:

10. I find it ironic that the guy from the LA Clippers gets recorded without his knowledge talking about “blacks” and gets banned for life by the NBA,….yet Mark Furhman knew he was being recorded and used the “N”-word with reckless abandon,…yet, he is now the ultimate go-to talking-head guy who has numerous book deals. He is the only one of that whole trial that has triumphed….repeatedly. Why?
The mind boggles.

9. I haven’t met a dog yet that doesn’t like sharp cheddar cheese. I know, like, a million dogs and they all like sharp cheddar cheese.

8. I believe that the song, “A Day In The Life” is probably the finest Lennon and McCartney song ever recorded. I welcome discussions about that.

7. There is something truly sublime about a well-constructed hamburger. It can be simple and elegant, yet sloppy and decadent. It’s the construction that matters…..except for that STOOOOPID BIG KING that they sell at Burger King. That has to be the worst hamburger on the face of the planet! Don’t buy it. It’s a rip-off of the Big Mac without all the nuances of a Big Mac. It sucks!!! Just go to McDonald’s. Geez. Such a dumb hamburger….

6. I find that if I don’t “ball” my socks up into pairs after I do laundry, I really question the cleanliness of a single sock when I pull it out of a drawer.

5.I recently came to the conclusion that my autographs of Bob Woodward and G. Gordon Liddy are my most prized autographs. They are under the same piece of glass. And they both addressed me personally….so I know it’s not an auto-pen.

4. I played my piano for four hours straight last Sunday. That must mean I am making my way out of my depression…even though I have to cut my grass and the forecast says rain for the next four days. That’s called, “teetering”. That’s enough to send me crashing back down.

3. Doris Day is still alive. Why?

2. I bought a six pound can of green beans this week. Why? Because I could,…and the fact that it was only three dollars.

1. Psychopaths usually have an encyclopedic knowledge of music. I don’t know why this is.

Anyway,….

“Whip it!
Whip it good!”


Devo
Whip It

Here are the top ten things I learned this week:

10. After enduring years of a coffee vending machine at work that is broken down more often than not, the vending guy finally replaced it with a slick new one that dispenses not only coffee, but Butterfinger Cappuccino, Cappuccino, hot chocolate, tea and soup. After a week of being there, it is now broken down more often than not.

9. Someone stole my Romanburger. It’s outrage will not soon be forgotten!

8.It is always,….ALWAYS,….at the least opportune moment when your gas gauge dings and the red light comes on. Always. It is also always,….ALWAYS,….at the least opportune moment when you tell the pump that you want a receipt,….and the pump tells you to go see the attendant for the receipt……ALWAYS.

7. Roger Daltrey once lamented in song, “11 hours in the tin pan, God, there’s got to be another way!!”……I just spent 12 hours working a furnace and I ain’t whinin’ like a “leettle guuurrrrllll”. That’s golden time, my friend. Take it or leave it,….but don’t cry about it. Stand up and act like a man,….cripes, almighty. (Ya know,….if you were a gas, you would be “Ineeeerrrrt”. Baby)

6. Dennis Wilson was more talented than Carl or Brian Wilson. Don’t believe me? Dig this:

5. If you dye your grey hair and beard a dark brown for say, a year, it will really screw people up when you stop doing it cold turkey. They see you growing grayer by the day and it really screws them up. They then start looking at themselves a little more intently when they pass a mirror. Great hi-jinks.

4. Why is ham the traditional Easter dinner? It’s a pork product. Jesus was jewish. Is it because of the resurrection that everything is game now? Jews still don’t eat pork. Paul and Peter had that falling out about what could be eaten,….(I think that was in Acts) Just such an odd dish to celebrate the resurrection with, ain’t it?

3. After 46 years on the face of the planet, I really wish I was the fifth Beatle. I think it would be interesting, to say the least.

2. Fay Wray went bra-less in a scene in King Kong. I couldn’t believe it. 1933 and she’s without bra. That totally screwed me up, man. (It was when she was talking to the monkey on deck with Bruce Cabot. Don’t believe me? Check it out.)

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1.Fried eggs and chili make a good combination.

Anyway,…

“Well, I guess I should confess that I am starting to get old,
All the latest music fads all passed me by and left me cold,
All the kids are talking slang I won’t pretend to understand,
All my friends are getting married, mortgages and pension plans,
And it’s obvious my angry adolescent days are done,
And I’m happy and I’m settled in the person I’ve become,
But that doesn’t mean I’m settled up and sitting out the game,
Time may change a lot but some things may stay the same,….


Frank Turner
Photosynthesis

Ya know,..when you go to a resale shop, you kinda expect that the wares they sell will be in some sort of systematic order. When it’s not, it’s nothing more than a garage sale, isn’t it?

When the lighting is sub-par, it makes you feel like you’re bein’ cheated. I hate that crap.

Why is it that most of the furniture smells pretty moldy. You wanna sell me something? Make sure that it doesn’t smell bad, OK? It ain’t that hard. There’s this little thing called “Febreeze”. Spray it a few times a week. Is that that hard?

Ya know,….I really think the French Connection is the greatest movie ever made Why do I think that? Who cares? Do you care? I don’t freakin’ care. It’s just a damn good movie. What? Do I have to explain myself?

Good night.

Just so ticked off today.

Anyway,….

“Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head,
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late,
Found my coat and grabbed my hat,
Made the bus in seconds flat,
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
And somebody spoke and I went into a dream,…”


The Beatles
A Day In The Life

So, I was at this upscale dollar store a few weeks ago, right? As I was perusing the fine merchandise to be had there, I came across this rather large, hardbound book about the Fab Four. Being the Beatles fan that I am, I’m always looking to find somethin’ new about them.

This book was all of 5 bucks out the door. It’s simply called, “The Beatles”…with their ever-so recognizable faces emblazoned on the front cover, just under the title.

I purchased this book,…in addition to an Ipod charger cable, a big box of Good and Plenty’s,…and a refrigerator magnet that had George Costanza on it. I thought the day was a success.

I tarried silently and alone over this frozen tundra to my domicile where I was going to embark upon the making of some hot supper with tea,…and, as I ate, I was going to crack the book open to see what new wonders the Beatles still hold 50 years down the line.

I was so excited about what lay ahead! (A fine night, indeed!)

So, I get home and promptly got knocked down by the dogs. The dogs are not big, mind you, they just get tremendously underfoot, as it were. What, with the bags I had and three of them running furiously between my feet,…but all was well. I was home and in from the cold.

I set about making my dinner with the Beatle book waiting patiently upon the table.

I made a garlic-peppercorn Beef Filet (served with A-1 sauce and grilled mushrooms), a baked potato that was greased with red pepper infused olive oil. (served with butter and sour cream) and a “Scabies Salad”. Tomatoes, blue cheese and desiccated hard-boiled eggs and Vadalia Onions. (served with a house vinaigrette). The tea was a mixture of Sleepy-time Extra and Jammin’ Lemon Ginger. (served with a !snap! of sugar and honey)

As I sat down to eat, I pulled the book closer to my plate and began to flip through the book to determine if there were any new pictures that I hadn’t seen before.

And then I saw it. It was on page 44. Chapter 4: Please, Please Me-1963

It wasn’t the words written in the chapter,…and it wasn’t the picture on that particular page. It was the description of the picture!!

It was written:

Right: The Beatles perform at the Empire Theater, Sunderland, on February 7, 1963. (Left to right, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, and John Lennon)

Don’tcha see it?! It’s right freakin’ there, man!!

In a panic, I began to rifle through the rest of the book to see if there were any other anomalies such as this. There were. The entire book was infected with them! THE ENTIRE BOOK WAS INFECTED!!!

I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was too much to take in, man. I lost my appetite and shoved the book and the plate across the table and put my head down in defeat.

(pause)

What I am talking about, of course, is very simple. Throughout this so-called “book”, in every picture description, the author has the audacity to write,….in conjunction with the picture it denotes,…..

(From left to right, Ringo Starr, John Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison.)

With all variations that the said picture pictures.

Blasphemy!! Death to the tyrant who thought so bold as to assume that the masses didn’t know who the Fab Four were by simply looking at their pictures and discerning who was who!

This is the freakin’ Beatles, man! We know who they are! We know who they are just by looking at them! The guy playing the left-handed violin bass is Paul. The guy in the middle is George. The guy on drums is Ringo and the guy with the Rickenbacker guitar is John.

Everybody knows who the Beatles are,….by face and guitar recognition alone!

(This has to be a government plot to demoralize the masses so we give up our guns and crap!)

Yeah,….they were around 50 years ago and stuff….but, for heaven’s sake, McCartney and Starr were just at the 2014 Grammys singin’, “With A Little Help From My Friends”!

Would anyone dare to write a picture description like this?:

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Miley Cyrus (Center)

This is just too disheartening. We could play the devil’s advocate,….sure. We could say that the author was just trying to get “the younger folk” to experience The Beatles and this may be a helpful guide to help them recognize the Fab Four we all know and love. It just might make them buy their records,…I mean, cassettes,…I mean, Cd’s,….I mean, MP3 files…I mean, Brain-Implanted-Memory-Chip-Instant-Recall-Implant-albums.

(Wait a minute,…that’s not here yet, is it?)

We could say that,….but that’s predicated on the assumption that the younger generation are complete dolts who, in all reality, CAN identify them because they DO listen to them STILL!!! I have never met a teenager who couldn’t look at a picture of The Beatles and not go,

“JohnPaulGeorgeRingo”

It’s a fallacy. It’s a bogus argument, man!

(pause)

I just did what any real Beatles fan would do.

I took a black Sharpie,….and took it to the bathroom. I took the book,….and took it to the bathroom. And I am systematically blacking out all references to (from left to right….)

Five or ten minutes at a time.

This madness has to stop.

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(from left to right, Dirk, Stig, Nasty and Barry Wom)

Anyway,….

“…and you ain’t got to touch a man,
to make a man bleed,…”


Ian Hunter
Just Another Night

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Here are the top ten things I learned this week:

10. If I drink three Red-Bulls in quick succession, the world takes on a euphoric, taurine-fueled hue that will last for about three hours. After that comes the uncontrollable and emotional outbursts directed at people minding their own business.

9. In a snowstorm, when I go to start my car and turn the windshield wipers on, I have found that the passenger side will squirt the blue juice while the driver’s side will refrain from doing so.

8. I bought a bottle of syrup this week simply because it was called, “Blood Orange”.

7. If I drink three Red-Bulls in quick succession, I have found that I get the uncontrollable giggles for a while. This is bad….especially when the boss is talking to me and is trying to convey something of a serious nature.

7.v.1.1.1. I take in Peeks from rescues until they find their “Forever Home”. I learned that this one kinda grew on me, so I made a film of him:

6. Little Debbie Nutty Bars are the world’s most perfect food. It’s what we’ll be eating on our starships in the not too distant future. (Unless the talking apes become our masters before then.)

5. I have found that it’s really weird to drive down the road while looking at the screen of my dash cam for navigation purposes. It’s like it’s the ultimate middle-man who is gyppin’ you out of the big picture.

4. I have come to the stunning realization that the music of Paul Simon is total garbage. He really, really needs Garfunkel to be any good. It’s like meatloaf and gravy. Under no circumstances should they be consumed separate.

3. I had heard that Mickey Rooney was still alive this week. That, of course, begged the question: Why?

2. I have found that I open myself to ridicule from my co-workers if I order a sandwich that has avocado as the main ingredient. (This also applies to vegetable pizza.)

1. I had to answer a security question while banking online this week. It gave me a multiple choice question of an address that I lived at in my past. I got the question right,…and the year was 1984,…but my name was never on the lease nor did I get my mail delivered there.

Kinda makes you think, don’t it?

Anyway,…

“Yeah, I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain,
But, hell, a little touch up and a little paint…”


Bruce Springsteen
Human touch

Here are the top ten things I learned this week…

10. If you work for a company for forty years and come to work the day your mother dies, you will not even get so much as an acknowledgment on the company bulletin board in the event of your own un-timely death.

9. If you go to the bank to get singles for a twenty dollar bill so you have change for the vending machines, if the teller is female, chances are she will automatically jump to the conclusion that you are going to a strip club….and she will declare that to you,….in front of her co-workers and waiting customers, no less.

8. When your boss asks you what you are working on, the correct answer is anything but, “this Zag-Nut and that Carmel Macchiato.”

7. When you think you’re alone at work, the second you start dancin’ and singin’ to ABBA’s, “Waterloo”,….somebody will magically appear to catch you doing so.

6. When a woman at work begins to regale you with a tale of her trip to the OB/GYN…(complete with descriptions about scopes, lights, probes and fingers),…I have found that there really is nothing that can be added to the conversation. There are no polite rejoinders or questions that can be contributed to the dialogue,…because they are all wrong.

5. A two-litre bottle of “Faygo Red Pop” has amazing accuracy when thrown like a football. (A quick side-note on that? A kidney is an amazingly resilient organ.)

4. If you fall asleep while eating a Dove chocolate, the simple act of waking up takes on a richer hue.

3. Vinyl Records still sound better than tape, disc or mp3 files. The problem with Vinyl records is that you can’t go snowboarding while listening to them.

2. Candy bars, if strategically and carefully hidden in your underwear drawer, will be found by your woman in relatively short order.

1. The Monkees were never the Beatles,….even though they outsold both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones in the year 1967. Rest assured, friends,….they were never the Beatles.

A bonus:

This may be the worst song ever written and played…..Ever.

What’s your top ten?

Anyway,…

“Pheelings,…
Nothing moor than,
Pheelings,….
Trying 2 4-get those,
Pheelings ov luuuuuvvvv…”

Moris Alburt
Pheelings

Made a few stupid mis-steps this past week.

I know it’s not a big deal to the average person,…but I actually spelled the word “equipped” with a “t”.

It was in an email written in a fit of fury.

(You know,…one of those emails that you write somewhat haphazardly and fire off without runnin’ a spell check,..or without thinkin’,…or without choosing your words carefully. One of those emails.)

I know this shouldn’t be a big deal,…but it is.

Why would I think there was a t in the word “equipped”? I never used a t in it before. Why would I, at this stage of the game, start writing the word equipped with a t?

I tried not to let it ruin my day. I tried to shrug it off but,…I dunno,..sometimes things like that can get the best of you. It can occupy your mind and then you begin to do stupid things as a result of it.

I did not send a follow-up email that said I knew that I spelled the word equipped wrong. I thought maybe I should,…but I also kidded myself into believing that my social faux-pas would go unnoticed.

I weighed the options about that. There might be a possibility that nobody would notice the word equipped spelled with a t. I thought that, maybe, in a worst case scenario, the recipients would think that this may be the new avant-garde way of spelling equipped,…like everyone would pick up the cudgel and start spelling the word equipped with a t.

Sometimes that happens, ya know.

The pop star formerly known as Prince used to spell words wrong on purpose. Instead of writing the words “are you”, he would actually write “r u”.

I don’t think anyone pointed out that he was spelling those words wrong,…I mean, not if they valued their job or anything.

If we, as a society, would all just get on board with me, then there would be no more problems as far as the “correctness” of the phonetic spelling of the word equipped.

If I was boss, we would all be spelling the word equipped with a t. There would be no more double p’s.

It’s only write,…write?

(I’m gonna run a spell check on this thing before I post it….)

Anyway,…