Monday, January 30, 2006

The Horse Whippers

STARRING: Bob and Ted and Ed and Gordon as
The Four Horsemen
Special Guest star: The Meek

The horses were known as the Immortals. Beings that would live forever - if taken care of. Most were not. The fallen steeds littered the land. The living scoffed at these tragic endings. "How could they be so stupid? How could they be so blind?" it was said. "What drove them to do such a thing? Did they feel no responsibility?"

Of everyone in the land, the Four Horsemen had picked the best horse. It was faster, stronger and nobler than any horse alive. Some said than any horse ever. The Four Horseman were the envy of all, but they had earned their ride. "Freedom," they said. "Freedom makes a horse powerful, strong and brave." Others around them had preached control, forever reeling in the reins, choking the spirit of their rides. "One must be conservative," they claimed. "One must keep a tight rein on that what you wish to keep." They simply ignored the evidence of the fruits of freedom - and thus were forever denied them.

Life for the Four Horseman was luxurious. The freedom horse did more than any ten choked horses combined. But signs of wear were beginning to show. It was the whip. With the whip they had spurred it on and now it was even said it was the whipping that had made the horse great, not freedom. Bob was the biggest whipper of all.

Bob returned from a trip, the horse lathered and streaming with sweat. A Meek Man approached Bob as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much of the whip will kill him!"

"Fool!" bellowed Bob. "I picked this horse. He's mine for the taking. And anything that CAN be taken, DESERVES to be taken."

"But, sir, only so much can be taken."

"Are you blind? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?"

Ted took the horse next, loading the horse so high with goods he sat five feet high in the saddle. The horse wobbled in on his return. A Meek Man approached Ted as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Too much load will kill him!"

"Who are you?" taunted Ted. "These are the things we deserve. We picked the best, we get the most. One can never have too much."

"But, sir, only so much can be loaded."

"Are you stupid? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?"

Next was Ed, who neither whipped too much nor loaded too much, he was a man who had found The Way. A Meek Man approached Ed as he dismounted. "Please, sir. The time to change has come!"

"No need for change, my friend," evangelized Ed. "Yes, I know there are signs of wear, but bear this is mind: I do what has always been done. These signs have always been there."

"But, sir, signs of wear cannot be ignored forever."

"Are you self-serving? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?"

When Gordon took the horse, he used no whip but simply enjoyed the free ride of the most wonderful horse in the land. A Meek Man approached Gordon as he dismounted. "Please, sir. Can you not see the error of your ways!"

"No need for alarm," gloated Gordon. "The sky is not falling. You say our ways are bad but I live the good life because I am good."

"But, sir, your good life will end."

"Are you a fraud? Do you not know the law of nature? Anything you abuse, you lose. Is my horse dead?"

The Meek Man then asked to ride the horse to a place of nourishment and replenishing water. But the Four Horseman could not stand the idea of not having their horse to use.

Said Bob: "If you deserved to ride a horse, you would have a horse."
Said Ted: "What a useless proposal!"
Said Ed: "That is not our way - and our way has made us great."
Said Gordon: "We would be laughed at for allowing such a thing. No one else does that and we are surely as good as them."

They mocked the Meek Man and sent him on his way.

The day came when the great horse died - and all its lesser brethren. Upon seeing this, the Maker of the Immortals wept. "Is there no one who wishes to cherish what I have made?" When the Meek Man answered yes, the Maker rejoiced and cleansed the land, making yet another Immortal. "This you shall inherit," He proclaimed.

The Meek Man then led the horse to the River of Life to share the land forever. For the Meek Man knew no other way.

Friday, January 27, 2006

Kurosawa dreams

Like I've said before, most of my dreams are just replaying the events of the day, feelings that are repressed in moments of stress. Not fun. Other times, I have no idea where my dreams are coming from. Once I had dream with Bruce Springsteen in it. We were walking along, having a discussion of constructive criticism of each others' lives. I was pointing out some things I clearly saw he needed to fix. Then he did the same for me. We both knew the other spoke the truth.

I grabbed a cat nap today. And in it I had a dream that spoke the word Kurosawa to me the entire time. I'm a huge fan of Akira Kurosawa. I've seen most of his films. So in my dream I was watching a film (Kurosawa's?) in a room with at least two other people, probably more. The movie was coming to the end part (I don't remember the first) and the guy next to me started leaning over to his friend and commenting on the film. I thought he was misinterpreting it as the film was entering a surreal phase, so I pointed it out to him. It was showing a sandy mountainous scene from afar and what looked like a heard of animals. But really, it was showing the entire earth under this very clear water and the "animals" were really just a bunch of wisps in the water.

But once I realized I was looking through water, it switched to a scene of clouds high up in the sky. We were speeding through them furiously when I noticed some sort of line on the horizon. It was the clear water. It reached all the way up to the clouds. And in the water I saw a dolphin made of clouds form, jump out of the water and then back in, only to disappear again. Some other recognizable shapes also did the same but were too quick to see before they vanished. And all the time I kept thinking "Kurosawa, this is Kurosawa."

At this I got so disturbed I woke up. Kurosawa was speaking to me. Why? I'm just a bum.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Hate as a commodity in the free market

Well, well, children, how many times a day do we hear this: "I hate you bastards. I hate you sorry ass (liberals, jews, immigrants, free loaders, brats, [fill in the blank here])". You know, find something you feel you're absolutely safe you won't be accused of being, and blame those people for your woes. Hate sells. You get to be all full of bluster and righteous fury and if you do it well enough people come and slap you on the back. Maybe even elect you to office (yikes!).

So why is the richest country in the world so full of so many angry people? Easy. Because we all hate capitalism - especially as a fucking religion. We hate having money (or anything) lorded over our lives. It's eating at our soul. You can choose not to believe this. Fine with me. But, man, we're pissed about something!

Thing is, you see, I believe in the free market.
I loved economist Milton Friedman's Free to Choose series (for the most part). At 17, I was a subscriber to the Wall Street Journal and an owner of Friedman's book. While you guys were busy jacking off to cheerleaders, I was reading the Journal about everything from the theory of reflexology to the World Court in The Hague (OK, I was jacking off to cheerleaders, too). Capitalism was the only way - duh! Thought I knew it all at 17.

So the free market part is perfect - just as nature intended. Problem is, there are sellers among us who will sell anything. Which brings us back to what I said before: hate sells. There are people who have recognized this and use it to their advantage. No need to be honest, just find what the folks are hungry for and feed it to them. Hitler was the best at that. It's a seductive package when you get to slander others and get applauded for it. But of course, if you want to know the truth about someone else, you gotta want to know the truth about yourself.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

I ain't your goddam conscience!

What we have here is: failure to bribe. I mean, gimme a fast car, good food and wild women and, yeah, I'd probably say everything is hunky-dory - and keep it the way it is. I wouldn't care how many people are suffering because they don't have money. What the hell can I do about it?? All I know is I got mine. Go get yours. Live the American nightmare.

However, since I'm on the receiving end of this, I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. I hate you and I spit on you and you can't stand it. You fear my words. For you know that without your money, you too would cry out to tear all this down and build something real. But you have been bribed to shut up. By keeping quiet, we can keep all our goodies. NOT!

Jesus said, "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you." So if this Jesus guy is right, what we're really doing is destroying ourselves - all in the name of preserving ourselves. A tad ironic, neh? Won't be getting any sympathy from me! I'll be laughing my ass off watching you bastards standing in soup lines, grumbling, saying how this shit ain't gonna work. Too late then, moron!

So the bottom line is this: Get me one of these (SS version) and I'll shut up. That way it'll be nice and quiet as we rush towards the inevitable.

A Day in the Strife

    "Oh, shit. Don't come this way."
    Three spanish guys are walking in my direction. They're smirking about something. Maybe me. Maybe some private joke. Brace up, they're getting close. One of them is eyeing me. Wonder if he's gonna say something. No...they keep passing by. Is it for real or they going to turn around? Nah, I'm ignored now. Whew.
    Everything here is all pillars and concrete. Everything else is windows they spy out from. Just walking by an office gives me the creeps. Probably does them, too. I'm going to move over by the parking garage to get away from prying eyes. Now I'll just look like a car thief.

    Time for some food anyway. At last, I can conduct some Legitimate Business. I will be Purchasing a Product. Damn, gotta cross the street first. God, I hate that. All those people in those cars will see me. Judgmental bastards. Who's gonna laugh at the homeless loser scampering across the street? Four fucking lanes to boot.
    In a strip mall parking lot now. Convenience store at the end. Fuck! Bunch of damn teenage girls giggling out front. I'm not going to be their target. The world is all cell phones and clothes and cars to them. No concept of reality. Aliens. God, I hate them. I'd pay $50 just to kiss their toes.

    Good, Momma is rounding them up, I can go in now. Now it's time for The Eyes. All eyes will be on me, The Suspect. Employees, cameras, managers behind the mirror. What will the homeless guy try to get away with? They know I'm not one of them. My stomach's a knot as I approach the counter. Am I frowning without knowing it? I always wonder about that after I leave and start relaxing again. Clerk seems friendly enough. Two fried pies and a lottery ticket. See? I'm a legitimate customer. Don't hate me.
    It's hard to find a place to hide. I went into a truck stop once. It was awesome. Had everything, even a giant TV watching room. I remember sitting and thinking, "This is great! I can kill a lot of time here." Naturally, I got spotted by some trucker. "What kind of truck do you drive?" I said nothing since the only reply I could think of was 'Tonka'. He then went off to tell me how the room was only for truckers, yadda, yadda, yadda. Knew it was all too good to be true...

    Better to find a public place - anywhere away from businesses. Parks are good. Has to be a certain type, though. Not too nice, not too rough. Just blend in and eat your food. I know where all the good places are. I have secret hotel restrooms I use for cleaning up. You have to rotate around so you don't get "known". Staying clean is a huge advantage I have over other homeless guys. That and a P O Box.
    Food's gone. Day is pretty. Warm winter is lucky for me. I love being around people. Just watching them stroll through the park, seeing all the different expressions. I live vicariously through them. I need to see people laughing and living. Makes me see it is possible. Debby...

    Stress pains returning to my stomach. Dying in slow motion is not fun. I'm jealous of the deaths I read about in the paper. "Free at last!" I cry. We're stuck here. They get to go to a place where they're not dependent on others. No more false witnesses. No artificial rules. Just rise and fall on your own merits - as it should be.
    Libraries are great. A lot of my ilk abuse them, which just makes it harder for me. I love to get lost in a book and shut out harsh reality (but, man, it hurts when it comes rushing back in). Sometimes I get the nerve up to read in a book store but that's rare. Here, I'm supposed to read. I'm quite a literate fellow. I had a temp job at a warehouse once. One of the forklift drivers had a degree in literature. We got along well - the world had no use for either of us.

    Mordor is always lurking. Its trolls in blue scour the streets. Orc punks taunt and attack us. The great Mordor nation blows black smoke into the skies and declares itself  Holy. There are few places where the great Eye cannot see. Sure wish I knew how to live out in the country like that pot guy does. Here, the Black Riders hunt you down and their idea of redemption is to make you one of them.
    The nightmares of the day replay in the nightmares of the night. Always surrounded. Always on the run. I've had dreams where my whole life is nothing but an eternal chase. Still, I need to try and rest. A cop already came by. They know about this place for sleeping. It'll be OK as long as there's no break-ins in the area. I'd be the first suspect.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

The Inn of Debby

   The hotel clerk was matter-of-fact.  
"Sorry, sir. There's no room for you."
"But," I protested, "there's supposed to be a spot just for me.
It's a reservation made by God."
"Yes, I see that, but that room is occupied."
He was so quietly efficient, so "it's-a-done-deal" about the
whole thing. Didn't he realize I was being left out in the cold!
"Well, who the hell is in there?"
"A 'surfboard', sir. A tall, blonde Swede - employed in the
banking industry I believe."
"She gave him my spot?" Devastation. Humiliation. Panic.
"How could she do this? Why didn't she wait for me?" But
clearly my words were falling on deaf ears. I decided to circumvent
his cold reality. "Let me speak to Debby!"
"Sorry, sir. She's not speaking right now."
"She'll speak to me, about this."
"No, sir. She's not speaking to anybody about anything. She
thinks that is what's best - silence."
His stone face was final. My heart cracked. I turned to leave
when the clerk called out to me.
"Just one thing, sir. Clearly, you are homeless. Just how did
you plan on paying anyway?"
I sluffed back out into the cold, reservation unkept.

Lost in the Icelands

When lost in the Icelands, Fear is your friend, for you go no place without it. You never truly rest. You may doze a little, you may nod off, but if the flame goes out, all is lost. Life in the Icelands is no life at all.

The wind never stops. The cold blows day and night, forever howling in your ears. The sound alone can drive one mad. So easy to see it happen. Icy fingers grasping onto your heart, trying to squeeze out all your warmth.

Where is everyone? Snowblind, I wander and call out, but there's no reply. Is no one there or do they just not speak because they see I'm blind? I came here to get away, now I can't find my way back.

The shivering wakes me up again...frozen terror laying siege on my soul...oh God, please let me much longer can it last?...I ask God to make the howling wind stop...but I get no reply there either...

Sunday, January 15, 2006

The art and science of arguing the Earth is flat (theory)

"Two men argue, one man wins." That's the conventional wisdom. Truth is, both men lose if both truly argue. The secret to winning arguments is NOT to argue. Today we will discuss theoretical tactics to be used in one of man's favorite pastimes: verbal masturbation (but, but, it does have meaning!)

Example argument: "Earth is flat" vs. "Earth is round".
We will be taking the side of "Earth is flat". Our opponent will be cocky since he has the truth on his side. Ah, but he has to prove it! The mere act of his doing so, though, means he's lost. Some people, alas, never figure this out. Some people will, during the course of the argument, suddenly have the light go on and think, "Why am I trying to prove this??" In which case we have lost. Others won't argue in the first place. Damn them! Join my hell!

Here are a variety of tactics:

1. Drawing Offsides:
Very commonly used. Can be used to varying degrees of effectiveness. Level one is the "Pinching" level. Two people are extremely engaged in a conversation and you pinch one on the butt. At first she ignores you until finally, "Will you stop that!" The verbal equivalent of this is name calling. Make your points but end each one with "jerk", "toad face", "fat bastard", whatever. Watch as it slowly breaks them down!

Level two ups the annoyance factor. Breaking into song works well here. Suppose your opponent's name is Bob. During some long winded point of his you start in with the Beach Boy's classic "Barbara Ann". You start with: "Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob...Bob-Bobara Ann" This gets him on two counts. First, he may take the bait of "Aha! He's got the name wrong. I need to correct him!" The second part, of course, is that it's annoying as hell when someone breaks into song during your Important Discussion. (NOTE: If not comfortable singing, a long, low series of boos will also work)

Level three can invoke violent responses so use with caution. It's the verbal equivalent of a face slap. To do this you will need to master the Daffy Duck sound or some other loud noises. If done correctly, the reactions will range anywhere from a deeply reddening face to a punch in your mouth.

2. The closed mind (intentional):
This tactic is great and, often times, is actually the case for your opponent. This allows for complete dismissal of all points. We'll use our "World is round" guy (in red) as an example:

"But I'm speaking the truth!" "Alleged truth."
"I have pictures!" "Doctored, no doubt."
"But all scientists agree!" "Nerds who can't get laid."

You get the idea. Use with glee.

Now, when your opponent is truly closed minded you cannot use this tactic. However, he is counting on you to make valid points for him to dismiss. Depriving him of that will prove highly frustrating to him.

3. The tangential diversion:
This is where you not only draw them offsides but then lead them around like a cow. If you pull this one off, you know you're in control. Take the reply to the last point up above: "Nerds who can't get laid." This may be something your opponent cannot resist commenting on. "I know scientists! And I know they get laid!" Careful here to stifle your giggling, he must not know of your hand upon his chain. How hard you yank it as it your discretion. It could be anywhere from, "Farm animals don't count" to a more subtle, "No, I don't mean with hookers."

What I've outlined here are just starting points. If you happen to know your opponent and some of his hot button issues, those can be useful for implementing tactics 1 and 3. Master all 3 tactics and you will be feared like the Godfather. The most important thing to remember, however, is DON'T LET THESE TACTICS BE USED ON YOU! Arguments are like a tug of war, the loser is the one who ends up in the mud in the middle. There are some losers, though, who will claim victory while covered in debate. Just make a mental note to yourself, "Still doesn't know I'm yanking his chain."

Just who is this Satan guy?

I hear it all the time: "It's human nature to be evil." That's why we have to appeal to people's greed to make a system work, etc. etc. Problem is, it's simply not true. It has been written that our Maker said: "Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness." So, either God's a greedy fucker like we are or...we are suppressing our true nature (boy, do people get violent when you present this point of view!). Even that Satan dude, isn't he about as evil as evil can get? But then I read he's an angel! Which means...he's just repressing too!

So logically, if God is love, which means our nature is love, then all things should be based on love...Nah, that will never work. Let's just keep repressing and see where that gets us.

More news on us scary street people

Police Identify Two South Florida Teens as Suspects in Fatal Beating of Homeless Man

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. Jan 15, 2006 — Two South Florida teens were involved in the beatings of three homeless men, police said, and family attorneys were negotiating their surrender.

Both teens will face murder charges in the death of one homeless man and aggravated battery charges in the beating of two others, Detective Katherine Collins said.

Brian Hooks, 18, and Thomas S. Daugherty, 17, were out of state Saturday and had not been arrested, police said.

The pair are suspects in Thursday's videotaped beating attack of Jacques Pierre, 58, on the Fort Lauderdale campus of Florida Atlantic University. The attack was captured on a security camera.

Police also named the teens in the death of Norris Gaynor, 45, who was killed a few blocks away, and in the beating of Raymond Perez, 49, in a Church-by-the-Sea garden.

Perez and Pierre were listed in fair condition Saturday at Broward General Medical Center, and doctors expected to release them in a few days.

A man at Hooks' home declined comment to reporters after police searched the home and removed a baseball bat. There was no published phone listing for Hooks or Daugherty in Fort Lauderdale.

Five will get you ten the attackers were all homeless.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

And you thought I was just a whiner

I got this from another blog:


Dallas is the “Meanest City” in all of Texas -- and the sixth meanest in the nation when you throw in cities from the Other 49 -- for homeless folks, according to the National Coalition for the Homeless in a study published today.

In a report oddly titled “A Dream Denied: The Criminalization of Homelessness in U.S. Cities” – begging the question of whether anyone’s dream really is to be homeless – Dallas is knocked for ticketing panhandlers, outlawing the taking of shopping carts from store grounds, and the current proposal to ticket people who give to panhandlers.

Leaving aside broader philosophical arguments over civil liberties, police priorities, and the seemingly random battles that Mayor Laura Miller chooses to cling to – who wants their hometown known as “Most Welcoming to Scary Street People?”

The full report can be found here and the page on Dallas can be found here.

Laura Miller is lucky they haven't made being an asshole a crime.

The original (and best) satirist

After Moses and Jesus, the person I would most like to meet in the Bible is Elijah, the original mocker. How delicious it would be to have him come back to Earth - invulnerable - and bring his satirical wit to bear on these, our modern times. There would be no stopping him - just much gnashing of teeth. Here he is at work:

"I am the only one of the Lord's prophet's left, Baal has four hundred and fifty prophets. Get two bulls for us. Let them choose one for themselves, and let them cut it into pieces and put it on the wood but not set fire to it. I will prepare the other bull and put it on the wood and not set fire to it. Then you call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of the Lord. The god who answers by fire - he is God."

Then all the people said, "What you say is good."

Elijah said to the prophets of Baal, "Choose one of the bulls and prepare it first, since there are so many of you. Call on the name of your god but do not light the fire." So they took the bull given them and prepared it.

Then they called on the name of Baal from morning till noon. "O Baal, answer us!" they shouted. But there was no reponse; no one answered. And they danced around the alter they had made.

At noon, Elijah began to taunt them. "Shout louder!" he said. "Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is in deep thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened." So they shouted louder and slashed themselves with swords and spears, as was their custom, until their blood flowed. Midday passed, and they continued their frantic prophesying until the time for the evening sacrifice. But there was no response, no one answered, no one paid attention.

At the time of the sacrifice, the prophet Elijah prayed: "O Lord, let it be known today that you are God and I am your servant and have done all these things at your command. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so these people will know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again."

Then the fire of the Lord fell and burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and the soil, and also licked up the water in the trench.

When all the people saw this, they fell prostrate and cried, "The Lord - he is God! The Lord - he is God!"

Then Elijah commanded them, "Seize the prophets of Baal. Don't let anyone get away!" They seized them, and Elijah had them brought to Kishon Valley and slaughtered there.

Now THAT'S funny! "Shout louder, dude, maybe he's asleep!" And they fall for it! Wonder if we have any people like that around today?

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

The Debby Factor

I heard these lyrics going in to pick up my free weekly paper. It's a Debby song, reminding me of the time she was in my life. I keep thinking I'll become immune, but I choked up once again on hearing it. Fifteen years and it hasn't been a day. Time stopped for me when she left. Trite, perhaps, but true. Perhaps I would be in a different place today had I dealt with her better. Certainly less guilt.

"You're lying and you can't help it."
-Debby, to me

Who was she? There's a scene in Bonny and Clyde where Clyde tells Bonny her life story right after they met. Some people know each other before they meet. I always knew there was this "other" out there. And when I met her, she was everything I dreamed of. Just perfect. It was like I was living a dream. And though I never took my clothes off in front of her, she is the only person to see me naked.

"Life is love."
-Me to her

The foundations of my life were shaken. Things I had buried since childhood were coming back out. I turned suicidal realizing for the first time just how far away I was from being ready for the one I need. But meeting her also forced me into new paths. I started writing for the first time - in large part as therapy. My art began to grow. But still, I ran away from my personal life until finally I ended

"A love song
It was there all the time"

Thank you, Debby. You were a dream. (And an asshole)

Monday, January 09, 2006

From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee...

I'm dying and nothing can stop it - not God in Heaven. Watching yourself die engenders a lot of anger. So I'm going to spit on as many of you fuckers as I possibly can before I go. These writings here are my last few scratches against the world. It will change nothing. Nothing can change the world.

Jesus literally sweated blood the day before his execution. We are fucked because we fucked Jesus. Living like savages at each other throats, calling ourselves civilized so we won't have to change.
Good job.

I made a joke today about living to see 2007. It was no joke. Why tell the truth to those who cannot help. The WORST people are the ones who think they can. They are blind and make things even worse.

I'm missing you Debby Hanssen.
I just can't seem to cry enough tears

The existential meaning of the Terminator

"That Terminator is out there. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop - EVER - until you are dead."

Sunday, January 08, 2006

"What we've got here is a total lack of respect for the law."

Trapper John (to MP): "We don't blame you."
Hawkeye (to same MP): "You're only doing your job."

You know, if I were a cop and I saw a homeless guy, I'd probably harass him too. I mean, that's how I'd pay my rent, doing shit like that. On the other hand, if I were a homeless guy and I saw an unattended cop car, I'd probably pee on the door handles. So I did. (To find your own cop car, here's a hint: Dallas cops love BBQ).

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Beautiful Places, Beautiful Faces

It's the charade I hate, the pretence of being "normal". Oh yes, I have a job, a family, a career, a nice house and a car. Those are things I feel I have to say in all the "normal" places.

I fear the restaurant. Fast food, convenience stores - those places are my friends. But even with a little money and being cleaned up, I fear the restaurant. It's like they have a fraud detector in there. "You're not one of us. What are you doing here?" Big appliance stores give me that same feeling, too.

Nature is my truest friend, a place unthreatened by man. No need for lies. Only the laws of God, not of men. I need people, though. I'm not a loner. I just play one on the streets.

And this, well, hard to believe it even happens on the same planet I'm on.

Friday, January 06, 2006

Auschwitz in my head

lies...all a stupid desperate lie...why am i trying...they all know...homeless loser freak...they CAN'T know...they'll get me...cold marching way out...nowhere to turn...faceless's is dead...they're looking at you...please let it more lying...never good enough...never touching...cripple...they don't want me...if they find me they'll kill one says my name...i cease to me...the world is all dark

Thursday, January 05, 2006

The Trans Am Brat

There was time when I held a temp job as a "tape monkey", as I called it. All these Fortune 500 companies use mainframe computers that back up their data onto tapes, each one about the size of a VCR tape. A company can easily have tens of thousands of tapes in its library and since several companies usually share the same facility the overall library can be upwards of a million tapes. These facilities work 24/7 and the tape monkeys feed in the tapes to the machines and then file them back at the end of the shift.

The tapes are dusty and the facility is cold to keep the computers from overheating. And there's LOTS of walking. Not the greatest of jobs but I've done worse. And while there were console operators there that actually had real jobs, all us tape monkeys worked through a temp agency. Each of us arrived through a different road. I remember that young, black girl working there while pregnant (!) and the long-haired, red-headed rock and roll guy. There was also the Drunk.

The Drunk, whom I liked a lot, had had a rough go. He told me stories of blacking out, getting in his car naked and driving around only to be hauled in by the cops. This happened more than once and he lost his license. He was in the process of trying to rebuild his life. Naturally, seeing a man with shattered nerves, I had to torture him. I would often take empty tape cases and drop them right behind where he was standing. They make a THUNDEROUS noise when they hit the elevated computer floor and I would walk away laughing as he cursed me. Yeah, I'm shattered, too.

(OK, so I picked the Bandit version)

One night as I walked through the parking lot into the building, I noticed a shiny new Trans Am. I like fast cars, I want fast cars and I thought, "Fuck, wonder who that belongs to?" Hard to make payments for a car like that on 8 bucks an hour. Turns out there was a new temp in town: the Trans Am Brat. He had mommy and daddy supporting him to ensure he maintained the lifestyle he deserved. OK, I thought, whatever. But there was trouble a-brewing!

The Drunk hated the Brat - and vice versa. Although they never technically said, "Fuck you" to each other, it always sounded like that's what they were saying. The Drunk resented the Brat's free ride and the Brat bristled at the idea he was getting anything he didn't deserve. Finally, it erupted into a big showdown. All us tape monkeys were sitting in the control room with the console operator during a slow period. The Drunk and the Brat were having it out.

I said nothing as I watched the argument. I was secretly rooting for the Drunk but the Brat had no clue on anything so I knew it was hopeless to try and make any point to him. The Brat was defiantly making his case, though, and finally he addressed us all. He told us of how he and his friends would meet at a coffee shop and discuss current issues. "I live on a completey different plane than you people!" he declared. At this, I put on my best honest-to-gosh face and said: "Wow, you live on a plane??"

I was getting ready to burst out laughing when I noticed his Gollum-like eyes just staring at me. I thought, "Surely, he's not buying this." But the Brat just kept staring so I decided to hold my expression and see what happened. Finally, he declared triumphantly, "See! This is what I'm talking about!" and resumed his argument.

Ron, the console operator there, just about fell onto the floor laughing. I don't know if anyone else caught on but he sure did. The Brat never did. I'm sure at his little psuedo-Algonquin round table that night, he and his buddies were laughing at me for my remark. "How could anyone be so dumb?? How could anyone be so clueless??" Hear! Hear! How often it is people think they are talking about others when really they speak only of themselves (heck, half this blog is me railing against my own conservatism).

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

They burn money don't they?

The logic is irrefutable:
A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch! A witch! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! We've found a witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch!
We have found a witch. May we burn her?
Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.
Are there?
What are they?
Tell us! Tell us!...
Tell me. What do you do with witches?
Burn! Burn them up! Burn!...
And what do you burn apart from witches?
More witches!
So, why do witches burn?
B--... 'cause they're made of... wood?
Good! Heh heh.
Oh, yeah. Oh.
So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood?
Build a bridge out of her.
Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone?
Oh, yeah.
Oh, yeah. True. Uhh...
Does wood sink in water?
No. No.
No, it floats! It floats!
Throw her into the pond!
The pond! Throw her into the pond!
What also floats in water?
Uh, very small rocks!
Uh, churches! Churches!
Lead! Lead!
A duck!
Exactly. So, logically...
If... she... weighs... the same as a duck,... she's made of wood.
And therefore?
A witch!
A witch!
A witch! A witch!...

So why don't  we burn people to death anymore?? You could say it's because it's against the law, but then, so is murder and that happens every day. The Good Book says "Everything is permissible - but not everything is constructive." (1 Corinthians 10:23). So you see, there's nothing really stopping us. And there was a time when we thought it absolutely necessary.

The reason, of course, is because we know better. Same thing will happen with money. We will wonder why we ever let it rule our lives. "What were they thinking??" But now we say, "We've GOT to have money. There IS NO OTHER WAY! Without it nothing will work!" But we speak of money as we should of love. Eventually, though, it will go the way of witch burning - just too dumb a concept to continue. And in the future they will be writing satirical skits about us...
   A baby is born!
   Yes, our baby!
   A baby boy!
   But the baby has no money!
   Bad baby!
    Worthless baby!
   Get money, baby, or you'll just have to die!

Homeless bastard wins lottery!

So...what would happen if Mr. Ich Bin Ein Berliner here won the lottery, if I got my own Get Out of Hell Free card? Would all crusades cease? Or, in the immortal words of Hans Gruber, would he be content to merely be "sitting on the beach earning 20%"? Fuck yeah!

It would happen like this:
  1. Declare myself Shogun of Texas.
  2. Head to the Maserati dealership.
  3. Print up 25 shirts saying, "Fuck you, I'm rich".
  4. Buy at least five places to live.
  5. Spend a year on Thunder Island.
  6. Build a Japanese castle.
  7. List my occupation as Dreamer on tax form.
  8. Massive funding for prisoner rights.
  9. Hate myself for losing Debby.
  10. Still be homeless...

Monday, January 02, 2006

I met a man with a joint today

I and my fellow brethren shared his doobage and talked in the afternoon sun. Sitting on the grass (no pun intended) we spoke of the world and life and dreams. He was well spoken and had clear thoughts. He wasn't out to change the world. It was just that he couldn't breathe in this society. Normally he stayed in more rural spots, the better to keep away from everyone, but he comes into the city on occasion for a pot run. In some ways he was even more dedicated than I am - a man true to his spirit. When the Bible speaks of a time when the last will be first, I believe he will be near the head of the line.

A nice, friendly afternoon. Thanks.

Free speech for morons too

I got this from an alleged "conservative" blog (as we know from a previous posting there is no such thing as a conservative) :

I feel that Americans need to have the experience of suffering, so that they can have a greater understanding of the world.

Wow, isn't that the same thing terrorists say? (or is she just a bleeding heart conservative?)

OK, lady, gimme your address and I'll come over with a baseball bat to enlighten your ass. First I'll smash up all your precious possessions, then I'll knock you around a bit just to make sure you see the light. Because, yeah, there just aint enough suffering in this world. Think of it as a bout of conservative compassion. Moron.

See, there are two types of people in the world: those who believe in helping people and those who believe in hurting people. Of course, perverts like the person above will say they are helping you by hurting you. Please, spare me that kind of "help".

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Happy New Year?

Woke up in the alley with a boner this morning. God I hate that. I can't let my thoughts turn to wanting a life. It's just too painful. Every day I have to pass people on the street with lives of their own, living in a completely different world than mine. I live in their shadow world. To have a life like theirs is inconceivable to me. And yet, I still cry out for it.

A cop came by and asked me some questions right after I woke up. He didn't make me leave (shocking) but when he came back later he seemed really pissed I was still there. I scurried away and back into the "normal" people. I can't take this anymore. If 2006 is my last year that's OK. I'm just too tired. And God wants me dead anyway.