It's the hour of the wolf (circa 3:30) and the stores are closed. I woke up recently and I found out that I'm almost out of booze. This stinks, but I can wait. The worst moment was when I traveled back home after doing some thing out there, and finding out that some convenience stores sell alcohol after 10:00. That's when I decided that patience is needed.

BTW, I'm listening to a live version of Memory Motel on replay. It's very nice (mostly "piano", Jagger and a speedy fade-out). Once, during a hard night's work, I played it loud (as a part of one of those self-made compilation CDs) in an office. My female co-worker asked me: "Who are they?"  That felt nice; it meant that she wanted to listen more from them.

Another time, I went to the fridge and there were only 3 ice cubes left.  I swear to Christ, I threw a fit.  You would have thought I was some methed-up spastic.  I start emptying out the fridge all "These goddam leftover have been in here since Monday!"  Tupperware and stale casseroles all over the floor.  Then I fired like 5 cups of yoghurt at the window, splattered all over the place.  I had to get a behavioral assessment after that incident, which is still in my employment file.

I don't know why they keep me around, to be honest.  I don't work very hard, pass the buck all the time.  I show up late, often drunk.  Anyone asks me something, I'm all "don't ask me man, I just got here."  And I'm always insulting people with respect to their religion, looks, mannerisms, national origin, etc.  I've had people refuse to ride the elevator with me, because they know I'll start in on their attire.  Like "you dig that out of the mothballs?  J.C. Penney day huh?  You should go home and start over, fish face.  Nobody takes you seriously when you look like the fucking donut boy.  What the fuck kind of dickhead wears polyester socks?  Dick."  Sometimes, I'll go ride the elevator just so I can go after some poor, hapless schmuck.  I don't even get off at my floor, just ride up and down for hours, deriding the occupants.

" Another time, I started ripping up the carpet in the hallways, carpet tacks flying everywhere.  Another time, I started bashing the coffee pots on the counter.  The office supervisor came in all "what the hell?"  So I fired a stack of paper plates at his ugly ass face and scampered to  ..... "


!!!!!

" Another time, I went to the fridge and there were only 3 ice cubes left.  I swear to Christ, I threw a fit.  You would have thought I was some methed-up spastic.  I start emptying out the fridge all "These goddam leftover have been in here since Monday!"  Tupperware and stale casseroles all over the floor.  Then I fired like 5 cups of yoghurt at the window, splattered all over the place.  I had to get a behavioral assessment after that incident, which is still in my employment file.  "


!!!!!!

Why on earth would anyone piss in the ice tray?????

Productivity and morale are way down on days I show up hungover.  I'm usually unshaven and unwashed, and have filthy socks.  I'm just looking for an altercation, and will throw down at the drop of a goddam hat.  Just last week I practically kicked down the door to the IT department demanding that my font size be changed to Helvetian 14.  Those fucking computer geeks, man.  They think they own the goddam place.  The only person I get along with is the custodian, because he's black and deals drugs as a side business to supplement his earnings.  He and I understand each other.  We see eye to eye on a lot of workplace issues.

I bet you're one of those narcs at work, Joey.  The kind that are always writing anonymous notes to the higher ups bitching about this and that.  And you always have some special problem, where the company has to spend money for some faggit-ass special cushion or lamp for you, just to shut your goddam pie hole with the constant whining.  I know your type.  You guys never get drunk at the company party, preferring to sit and judge everyone else, because you drink like a girl.  I know your type.  You have them high faluting ways.  All the black people dislike you, because they have that sixth sense about lame white people.  And you always bring your poncey lunch that looks like a sixth grader's lunch, with sliced carrots, lettuce, and little queer cheese and crackers packets, and chocolate milk.  I know your type.  People put "Kick me" signs on your back, and thumb tacks on your seat.  They put your face on dartboards.  I know your type.  Your socks are too loose, and you waddle when you walk.  You have your own seat in the lunch room.  Yeah, I got you pegged as NARC, from day one.  People like me, who can party like Don Johnson, avoid people like you, who party like John Denver.

"  You guys never get drunk at the company party, preferring to sit and judge everyone else, because you drink like a girl.  I know your type.  You have them high faluting ways.  All the black people dislike you, because they have that sixth sense about lame white people.  And you always bring your poncey lunch that looks like a sixth grader's lunch, with sliced carrots, lettuce, and little queer cheese and crackers packets, and chocolate milk.  I know your type.  People put "Kick me" signs on your back, and thumb tacks on your seat.  They put your face on dartboards.  I know your type.  Your socks are too loose, and you waddle when you walk.  You have your own seat in the lunch room.  Yeah, I got you pegged as NARC, from day one.  People like me, who can party like Don Johnson, avoid people like you, who party like John Denver. "

I had this scary vision of animals taking, playing musical instruments, living in tiny houses, having weird neofascist meetings and building stuff. (One of those things, a duck, was wearing a tiny metal helmet.)

You tell me if this isn't the work of the Devil.



I also had a dream that I was a dentist, but I was a very lousy dentist. In my dream I used cardboard to cover a patient's mouth.

MrPleasant wrote on Mar 19^th, 2014 at 6:19am:

I don't speak French, so I can't say for sure there are Satanic issues being discussed.  But many religions. including Christianity, object strongly to depictions of animals with human characteristics or behaviors - anthropomorphism.  I agree with you, the duck thing is stretching it beyond normal bounds, and many will be offended.

Papa Legba (shown below) is the black man's St. Peter, except with a lot more credibility and cosmic experience.  Note, in particular, the pipe and the stilch bottle.

It's easy to make fun of Noah's ark, so I won't do it. But I still, for the love of God, cannot understand what is the fucking deal with Mathusalem. So he was old. And? I'm sure he would wake up at ten A.M.; drank some juice; bitched about everything while everyone else rolled their eyes; and went back to bed, still bitching. And I'm sure everybody else just wanted him to take a trip into the great beyond. He's not any better than my aunt Francisca.

"He lived up to be 99," I read. I insist: so what?

One of my uncles, who may R.I.P., used to call aunt Francisca the oldest woman in the world. Literally. Once I was passing through her house, inside my uncle's vehicle, and he loved to say: "Hey; there's the oldest woman in the world". Needless to say, my family ties weren't too tied.

I actually liked my aunt Francisca. And I know she liked me too. So, R.I.P., and I won't write anything else about her, for the next sixty minutes.