MY INNER BLACK MAN

My son thinks he's funny... and he is. Years ago he had this friend who every time she called I would Talk like a brotha, and he would tell her his dad was a black man, she was totally duped and we got a good laugh. So he finds this website and makes me a black man. Some seriously funny shit.
Oh, by the way, my son has managed to avoid death for 22 years today...happy birthday son. I love you.

TEXAS...ALWAYS ON THE CUTTING EDGE- OF KILLING PEOPLE

I snagged this article from a local news channel web site...amazing.

Texas lawmakers are talking tough about cracking down on sexual predators who prey on children. Some propose the death penalty for repeat offenders. That could generate hundreds more death row inmates in a state that already executes more than any other.

That's right folks...everything's big in Texas, including the pile of bodies of all those people the state has executed. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure most or some of them deserved it, but a week doesn't go by that you see an article or a bit on the news about people who were snuffed by the state or waiting to be that are innocent.


Other ideas include long mandatory sentences for first-time offenders or eliminating probation. But opposition is flaring from unexpected sources – prosecutors and victim advocates. They fear some of the proposals would make it harder to get convictions. They also worry that tougher punishments would only increase the incentive for molesters to kill their victims to keep them from testifying against them.


Now this just flies in the face of logic as far as I'm concerned...all the criminologists and profilers and "experts in the field" will tell you, there's a huge diffence between say jeffery Dahmer and that guy that boinked his 14 year old baby sitter. Sure, he needs to be punished, but the death penalty for babysitter boinking?
Now...before I dig myself further into this hole, let me state for the record that I think molesting children is a very serious crime worthy of serious punishment.But I doubt seriously that the guy that fucks his 14 year old babysitter is going to kill her to prevent her from testifying, if anything, new stricter punishments including the dirt nap option would likely cause him to think about the babysitter while he fucks his wife...

And there's the question of whether the death penalty in sex offenses is even constitutional. In 1977, the U.S. Supreme Court reversed a death sentence for a Georgia man convicted of raping a woman. Justices called it an “excessive penalty for the rapist, who as such does not take human life.''

Since when does any politician here in Texas give a good shit about the constitution?
I think bunnypants proved that out as gubner and underlined it with a blazing hot poker as the murderer in chief. Seems to me they had it more on the ball in 77...life sentence for a rape? Absolutely. Death...may be a bit much.

But Lt. Gov. David Dewhurst(asshat) has led the charge for tougher penalties for child molesters. He's calling for a 25-year minimum sentence after the first conviction when a victim is younger than 14 and a death penalty option for repeat offenders.

So...Dewlap, what do you get if you molest a 15 year old?15 years? 16? 10 years? 17? Oh wait, that's right, 17 is the "age of consent" innit? And we all know we had it all in one sock when we were 17...
Here's a perfectly reasonable solution...everybody knows what the general prison population thinks about child molesters right? In case you live in a vaccuum, they fucking hate them. So here's what you do, put the child molester in the general population and it's sink or swim. I assure you they will never sleep again. They will be hounded and abused 24/7, and I can think of no better punishment...can you?

PLATOON

This is my final Bloghuh? submission. I hope you enjoyed reading here this week, I enjoyed reading yours.
I got a copy of Platoon on DVD last night and watched it today for the first time in a long time. Back when I was on the crisis intervention team at the oaks it was in heavy rotation with the after work booze and drugs and violent movie processing sessions we used to have. But when I watched it today I had a very different reaction. Back in the day it was a galvanizing event, it gave me the energy to suck it up and go back in for one more shift...how sick is that?
Today I watched in horror as reasonable men became animals, I laughed , I cried , I said "wow" alot. And I wondered what in the world were we thinking way back then?
The allegory to being on the CSO team is still there, loud and clear... The desperation, the violence, the sense of family in the face of chaos. All that and some blood on your clothes to boot.
We did amazing things at an amazing price...for me anyway.
And that's what mystify's me...people who put themselves on the line with minimal return...was it worth it?
Yes...yes it was.
Have I explained this adequately? No...there's no way I can...you had to be there.
Read the final entries of Bloghuh? Thanks BW....:)

Alley Kat

Aprosexic

Blue Witch

bob's yer uncle

Changing Places

In the Aquarium

Jen&HerBoat


Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

London Daily Photo

Pewari's Prattle

Purple Pen

Quixotic Evil

Santiago Dreaming

Tabula Rasa

Tiger Feet


Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

wintermute

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME- V.NEXT TO THE LAST ONE

THIS:


Why do people abuse thier pets like this? I don't get it. The family that owns the liquor store I shop at has small dogs that they dress in this fashion and, they have a rack of goofy, demeaning doggie outfits for sale. At a liquor store...wait! maybe that explains it, the pet owners are shitty drunk! Nah...we don't humilate our dogs like this...
I suspect they are the same people who decorate the house with geese and rabbits and bears (the plush kind ) dressed in gingham aprons and bonnets. And everything has a heart incorporated into it.
Just look at that poor dog...it is so saying "fuck you for doing this to me".
Go check the almost final entries of people who would never dress up thier pets:

Alley Kat

Aprosexic

Blue Witch

bob's yer uncle

Changing Places

In the Aquarium

Jen&HerBoat

Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

London Daily Photo

Pewari's Prattle

Purple Pen

Quixotic Evil

Santiago Dreaming

Tabula Rasa

Tiger Feet


Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

wintermute

REUNITED

Rusty, my friend and the journeyman I worked with at UT showed up at the job this morning and we got to work together on those panels upstairs. It was nice to fall into the familiar patterns...like two working as one in stereo. But the other cool thing is how I have grown since we last worked together..."when you can snatch the wirenut from my hand it will be time for you to go, grasshopper" Almost there.
And, as an added bonus, the rest of my old crew will be helping out on saturday and monday...Hoo Whee!I'm stoked.

Happiness is... a pair of cool shoes?
I went to the shoe store today at lunch to buy myself a new pair of practical, everyday shoes since my Doc Martins are at least 15 years old and have a worn down spot on the heel which has been giving me some lower back pain. I settled on a nice pair of black Fluevogs, but a very impractical pair of Converse style sneakers also caught my eye. Now I'm not one to spend money on myself very often and I'm certainly not much of a shoe buyer (Rob has more pairs of shoes than I do), but I couldn't take my eye off these shoes. Of course, it's not that unusual for me to want something that catches my eye, but it is very unusual for me to want something bad enough that I seriously consider buying it. And it's even rarer that I actually go through the process of purchasing it. Yet, the desire for this completely impractical pair of footwear was so great that I walked out of the store with a pair of these:



(picture snagged off the Draven website)


I put them on the moment I got back to my desk at work (even though I was breaking dress code) and I smiled the whole rest of the day. If you had told me this morning that a new pair of shoes would make me happy, I'd have refused to believe it. Just further proof that joy is sometimes found where you'd least expect it.

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME V.5


Ozzy...How is it possible that he's still alive? How is it possible that he can still make music? And most of all what fucking language is he speaking??? He's a british version of mumbles from dick tracy for gods sake! Gotta love it, and him!
( Ok...so I'm running short of things that mystify me, but still...Ozzy rules :) )

Check out these other bloggers going off the rails of a bloghuh? train...

Aprosexic

Blue Witch

bob's yer uncle

Changing Places



In the Aquarium

Jen&HerBoat

Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

London Daily Photo

Purple Pen


Quixotic Evil

Santiago Dreaming

Tabula Rasa

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

THESE HANDS

So deflicted, I can't play my guitar without crying the tears of jeebus...and that's a sin people...



click here for a bigger version...

This life makes you hard...and a crybaby I suppose :)
Deflicted hands...wah wah wah.

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME V.4

Crybabies mystify me. And I don't mean babies that cry, I mean full grown adults that bemoan thier lives ... nay ... Piss and moan about thier lives at an almost nonstop pace.
Are they simply beating themselves up because they enjoy it? Sort of a psychic self flagellation? Or is it some weird form of munchausen's by proxy where they derive some satisfaction by projecting all the bad karma onto someone else? And receive the empathy that is like emotional crack?
People have issues...I know it's hard to beleive, but even I have issues, but I also have boundaries...I'll let you know what's going on with me to a degree, but I save my deep emotional sharing for Annabelle or a couple of very select close friends ( a very infrequent sharing in this case, and usually drink is involved ). I have shared some deeply emotional thoughts and events here, but I see that as a different animal. To some degree, this is journalism (ahem) and the point of writing is to convey thoughts and feelings that conjure thoughts and feelings in the reader. So, shut up about the hypocrite thing :)
Sometimes people think too much about thier station in life and do too little about it.
We all feel sorry for ourselves sometimes, but to make self abasement the focus of your life mystifies me. Sometimes the best course is to hunker down and do what you know, and the details of what you need to know will fall into place.
One thing I know from my years in the social work field that is rock solid to this day is, sometimes you can think about your shit too much, or as some great philosopher said long ago, "make a mountain out of a mole hill".

Read more about things that mystify others at participating Bloghuh? blogs this week:



Aprosexic
Blue Witch
bob's yer uncle
Changing Places
In the Aquarium
Jen&HerBoat
Kitchen Witch
La Que Sabe
London Daily Photo
Purple Pen
Quixotic Evil
Santiago Dreaming
Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

BIG SUNDAY REVISITED

Tom Waits and bloodies turned into one great drunken adventure. As I left the house for Best buy to buy a gigantic CD wallet ( holds 363 cds ) cause I was tired of the clutter and the whole keeping them in thier cases (not) this wallet solution was genious on my part, Annabelle informs me it is Ashleighs birthday. Dammit! We love this girl! She is my little sister I never had...So, on my way to Best buy, I re-route to the third world and buy that girl some flowers. It's in the opposite direction, but who fucking cares? I'm half in the bag, logic defies me. Plus, it's little sisters birthday. I pick a giant boquet of psychedelic pansies or dasies...they were awesome. As I'm checking out in the 10 items or less lane, there's this asshole behind me talking on a bluetooth headset unloading his groceries in a way that only an asshole with a bluetooth headset could and then he pushes dear Ashlieghs flowers out of his way and potentially bruises the here to now pristine daiseys. I turn and face this ass and yell in his face " You need to CHILL the FUCK out motherfucker!!!" I think this kind of shit alot but rarely express it aloud, but remember, I was 1.5 sheets to the wind and I was on a mission. he backed up.
I was wearing my "Holy shit! Man walks on fucking moon!" t shirt, my hair was down and I was wearing my ozzy shades...he was clearly baffled, and I think, terrified.
It was awesome. It was right up there with when an unfamiliar dog jumps up in your shit. I scared the fuck out of him and then turned to the wide eyed cashier, got my change and hoped mr. bluetooth would follow mwe outside so I could kick that ridiculous earpiece into his ass. He didn't. Probably a good thing.
On to Ash's...I hadn't been to her place in the daytime in a long long time, plus I was processing vodka...so I went to the wrong house.
I'm pounding on the door with this giant crazy bunch of flowers when i hear a womans voice say "who is it?" it was the kind of voice that had crazy written all over it. I say "It's ROB!" crazy voice say's "Rob who?". I say "Rob CLATTENBURG!!!" The voice says " I don't KNOW YOU.
I think to my drunken self..."Self, maybe you got the wrong house", so I announce: I'm looking for Ashleigh XXXXXXX's" . I am directed one house to the left...we share some niceities through the door as she unloads her shotgun and then I'm pounding on Ash's door...I wake her up, but she answers the door all bleary eyed and tossled hair
I deliver the psychedelic flowers much to her delight and after some hugs and chat she goes back to bed and I head out to best buy...

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME - V.3
Birds on the wires...on my way home from work I see these birds congregating on the power lines...thousands of them. Always at dusk. Why do they do this? Today, I took pictures...


The gathering flock...



Mas birds!!!

Nature is amazing...

Speaking of amazing, check these other BlogHuh? playas...

Aprosexic

Blue Witch

bob's yer uncle

Changing Places

Jen&HerBoat

Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

Purple Pen

Quixotic Evil

Santiago Dreaming

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From?

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME...V.2

Or, to be blunt, we were robbed over the weekend. Not me and Annabelle, my company and our jobsite. Of somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 to 500 pounds of copper wire. The going rate for scrap copper is in the range of 3 to 4 US dollars ( I'm reminded of a National Lampoon article from my high school days where a Vietnamese woman is quoted to say " american money is worthless in Viet Nam, but 2 or 3 hundred dollars rolled up together makes for an effective tampon") Anyway, back to the robbery. An unbelievable hassle for us because they stole it from our panels....from the outside feed from the city, 50 feet into and up to the second floor to the main inside panel. We had terminated the outside panel, that is to say, we had made our connections, but inside we did not...figuring that inside with a guard...our slack wire would be safe, plus some of the crew worked an 8 on saturday finishing lighting. Wrong.
Now, what's the haul here? Let's say 400 pounds of copper on the mid end of 3.25 USD a pound. $1300.00 USD...that's alot of tampons dude!
It was obvious the wire had been cut with a cutter designed for it and not a jig or hack saw. In fact, our gang boxes had been broken into ( with a key ) and our bolt cutters were gone. Hmmmmmm.
It was also obvious that right to left our criminals had intended to leave us enough wire to land our connections but got distracted and fucked us royal on the last few cuts. So, we had to pull out 12 conducting wires and 3 grounds, buy new wire and repull it. To the tune of $4600 USD time and material. ( Not to mention those Vietnamese women reduced to using Bhat...man:) I can drive trivia into the fucking ground. huh? Well it is Bloghuh? so piss off.
Amazingly, none of this mystifies me. I understand theft, I understand criminals, I understand 1300.00 for 45 minutes work. what I don't understand is the reaction of the crew and owners. The perps left clues...namely Beer cans...24 ounce cans of a particular brand that I and most of you would describe as (in the most kindest terms) as "Yak Urine" or "Marmot pre-cum". And there is a company employee who drinks this "Vole Piss" , so folks are speculating it was an inside job.
And that's what mystifies me about this...it's two fold...why would anyone steal from a company providing them a good living? I know that's a bit naive, but it would never occur to me, I mean, I've taken a pencil or pen home over the years, but come on. And, the people pointed out in the knitting circle of hens that are electricians as the perps gives you a clear idea of the pecking order.
Man...all this gave me was an 11 hour day, sore shoulders, a nasty gash to my left thumb, and a need to scratch my head again about the ability of people to talk shit.
And for the record, my money is on those crack head, paid by the day assholes that wear orange vests and push brooms around all day for 6.00 an hour that couldn't say enough to me about the scrap copper from the first pull, but I'm just sayin'.
Go ahead...read some more from these folks who are mystified by shit...I dare you. Really...

Aprosexic

Blue Witch

bob's yer uncle

Jen&HerBoat

Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

Purple Pen

Santiago Dreaming

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From

THINGS THAT MYSTIFY ME...

Me and cables, wires. extension cords, rope, string, twine,fishing line...you name it. If I lay hands on it, sometimes I can just look at it it seems, it becomes a horrible tangled mess. It's not so bad these days, what with being an electrician I've had to confront this issue with some degree of success. But back when the band was really active and playing out alot, I would be relegated to setting up the drum riser and speaker stands to keep me from turning our main cables and mic cables into the cats cradle from hell. Christmas lights were especially troublesome.
I have never understood this and believe it should be in the DSM (whater ever version they are up to now ) as Wire dysphoria ( unspecified type ).
Read more things that mystify these people this week, as we plod through "bloghuh? week". Enjoy!

Aprosexic

Blue Witch


bob's yer uncle

Depthmarker

Jen&HerBoat

Kitchen Witch

La Que Sabe

Purple Pen

Santiago Dreaming

Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From

SUNDAY MORNING

Bloody mary's and Tom Waits...priceless.

GROWTH RETARDING THERAPY?WTF IS THAT?

Parents of a severely cognitively and physically disabled girl have publicly defended their decision to retard her growth through the use of hormonal therapy and surgery, saying they were acting out of love and compassion. This is the opening of an article at Medpage Today
I first saw this story at CNN yesterday, a condensed version that descibed procedures to remove her reproductive organs, breast "buds" (what the hell are those???) and massive hormone therapy all designed to keep her at her current managable size for the remainder of her life. She is profoundly retarded, in effect an infant at 9 years old. This will never, ever change. And the parents contend they opted for this so they could continue to provide thier "pillow angel's" "quality of life" for a longer period of time as opposed to allowing her to mature and "experience the pain and confusion of menstruation" and have lumps on her chest that would frighten and confuse her...or something to that effect.
OK...I have a real problem with this. Having worked with the profoundly retarded in my youth at a not so little tard warehouse called Travis State School, I have seen the "quality" of life broccoli-humans like the pillow angel experience...22 hours a day in a bed (gurney) , 2 hours in a wheelchair out on the porch, someone feeds you mush three times a day, and intermittantly wipes that mush off your undercarriage and gives you a clean nappy after checking for the bedsores that can lead to infection and pain and death. In fact, my own father spent the last 9 years of his life enduring the same routine over and over and over again, until he finally died from th' newmoanee. It is important to point out that Dad was not retarded at birth, a stroke kicked his ass, hard. Any hoo...back to the pillow angel.
These people have radically altered her natural progression in life, being you are born, you live and grow, and then, at some point you snuff it.
Her parents clearly , a: love her dearly, b: don't want to deal with the period thing,ever, c: can't lift anything over 65 lbs (or don't want to), d: wish they had sunk her in the river in a burlap bag with a cinder block like an unwanted litter of kittens when they found out she was so much produce saddling them for life. I suspect it's a little bit of all of these feelings. I don't judge them at all, but I question their judgement. I applaude them for keeping a "special needs" child in the home, but have serious reservations about how they are medically making it convenient to do so. As well as the doctors willing to do it for them. According to the article, much thought and discussion was put into deciding the pillow angels fate, but did she have a say? Of course not, she's profoundly retarded...and while I'm thinking about it what kind of fucked up oxymoron is that???
This is a tough one to call folks...if I ever had a tard baby, I would probably sell him or her to the carnival or for medical experiments (just kidding)...I don't know what I'd do, unless it had down's syndrome and was a boy, if that were the case I'd groom him for the broadway revival and feature length movie of that TV show Life goes on and make a shitload of cash doing it ( still kidding...well maybe ).
This family has my empathy, first for having a child that I'm sure they thought would have 10 fingers and toes, only to find out they had a burden for life that they love. And secondly for the media shit storm that's brewing around thier attempts to do the right thing.
Man.

SOME OTHER HEROS OF MINE...

Husker Du...amazing band, and while I wasn't at this London show in 85, I saw them at Liberty Lunch here in Austin in 87. The most amusing thing to me that night was my girl at the time carried a broken beer bottle in her sweater pocket cause she was freaked out by all the punks ( speed...I'm tellin' ya...:) ). But this was the encore, and after this tour they broke up. I got to see Bob Mould solo at the cavity club about 3 years later, but nothing can match the fury of the Du...Lots of other video at youtube. A veritable wall of sound for a 3 piece.
Enjoy....

KISS ME ON THE BUS...

What a cool song, and Bob was still alive...he's the guy in the stupid shorts that tosses his guitar after the song and thumbs up it. I'm sorry to be inundating you with Replacements shit, but I loved those guys...check Paul with his stupid haircut and pre (?) dex overalls...Wow. But they ruled during this time yadayadayada.
Enjoy.

TWO OF MY FAVORITE REPLACEMENTS SONGS...

Answering Machine...

A song about being on tour I guess, at the very least, being away from an unavailable S/O...

1, 2, 3, 4

Try to breathe some life into a letter
Losing hope, never gonna be together
My courage is at it's peak
You know what I mean
How do say you're O.K. to
An answering machine?
How do you say good night to
An answering machine?

Big town's got its losers
Small town's got its vices
A handful of friends
One needs a match, one needs some ice
Call-waiting phone in another time zone
How do you say I miss you to
An answering machine?
How do say good night to
An answering machine?

I get enough of that

Try to free a slave of ignorance
Try and teach a whore about romance

How do you say I miss you to
An answering machine?
How do you say good night to
An answering machine?
How do you say I'm lonely to
An answering machine?
The message is very plain
Oh, I hate your answering machine
I hate your answering machine
I hate your answering machine...

Here comes a regular...

Drunk and hopeless, which pretty much sums them up back in the day...


Well a person can work up a mean mean thirst
after a hard day of nothin' much at all
Summer's passed, it's too late to cut the grass
There ain't much to rake anyway in the fall

And sometimes I just ain't in the mood
to take my place in back with the loudmouths
You're like a picture on the fridge that's never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house

And everybody wants to be special here
They call your name out loud and clear
Here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one here today?

Well a drinkin' buddy that's bound to another town
Once the police made you go away
And even if you're in the arms of someone's baby now
I'll take a great big whiskey to ya anyway

Everybody wants to be someone's here
Someone's gonna show up, never fear
'cause here comes a regular
Call out your name
Here comes a regular
Am I the only one who feels ashamed?

Kneeling alongside old Sad Eyes
He says opportunity knocks once then the door slams shut
All I know is I'm sick of everything that my money can buy
The fool who wastes his life, God rest his guts

First the lights, then the collar goes up, and the wind begins to blow
Turn your back on a pay-you-back, last call
First the glass, then the leaves that pass, then comes the snow
Ain't much to rake anyway in the fall

GET OVER YOURSELF ALREADY

Advice I would be wise to take more times than I care to remember. This guy I'm working with recently left his wife of 10 or so years and is setting up a new life, and while ( according to him ) it was a largely miserable marriage, he's having a hard time with the new found seperation from a familiar yet, intolerable spouse and his 3 kids he clearly loves a great deal. You miss the familiar, right? Right...So, I get the venting...and lots of it.
This morning he was reeling from the final "exchanging of the prisoners" weekend...clearing out the house, splitting up the years of accumulated memories defined by stuff...you know, your stuff, my stuff...stuff. He was clearly upset by this, and while construction workers...electricians in our case, are not the most therapeutically minded people in the world, you know dealing with feelings and all. This guy is very open about his shit, to anyone who will listen. While that works in some circles, it doesn't always work so well with us electricians. Remember, I was a social worker type for years, so men expressing feelings and crying is completely normal to me, some guys it just freaks out.Most of those guys, it turns out are electricians ( go figure) .
I understand what he's going through, I went through it when I was his age, I don't mind listening to him process his grief. I understand it's important. He's a new breed...construction worker/has feelings and shares them...those fucking 30 somethings, I tell ya, what have we done to ourselves?
So to him I say "Get over yourself already" , when you are, and I'm your friend so, dude, I'm gonna listen and give you the benefit of my experience (If you want it or not), quit apologizing to me for being human.
Other than that we started installing our outdoor service panels today, I pinched the fuck out of my hand with the super jumbo knock out set ( it makes holes in metal enclosures ) giving myself the biggest blood blister I've had in years.
That's all that happened today.

JUST BECAUSE...

The reason for the season


Ann and her mama


Brandy, Sean and Kyle


The core fam...dude, we rule.


The best gift ever


All grown up...


His corner since he could fit in it...check the nutcracker...

WE ARE THE SONS OF NO ONE

Bastards of young. The daughters and the sons.
I bought the Replacements "Don't you know who I think I was?" best of CD yesterday. Half way through it I was crying like a bitch. Sure, I was drunk...it was new years, come on. But on a more or less sober listening today, this best of is the maudlin best of. If you aren't familiar with the Replacements, they were the drunkinest bunch of mid 80's punks out of minneapolis. I saw them "open" for Tom Petty once...they were so fucked up they couldn't get off a song without imploding on each other after 4 or so bars. When they finally sat down, feet dangling off the Frank Erwin center stage, they delivered a campfire singalong worthy of a kegger in the woods, but not in the fucking Frank Erwin center, opening for Petty.
And thats why I love them...that and thier albums, some of the best songwriting ever. "Tim" is a good place to start...or "Pleased to meet me".
She's achin' to be...Just like me.
Man.

BLINK OF AN EYE...

Match this kyle...:)
Happy new one y'all...
Hoo - whee!

Adios 2006
I'm not sad to see this year end. It hasn't been a particularly bad year, but it's definitely been a pain in the ass. That's mostly due to my job which started out on a rough note due to recent policy changes that occurred at that time I was promoted (February) and despite promises of how it was going to get better, things just got progressively worse and worse with each passing month. That will all soon be behind me since new policy changes put in place this weekend will make it impossible for me to meet the goals I need to meet by January 15th. In addition, I'll only be earning the base salary ($11.53 per hour for a 40 hour work week) so putting forth any massive effort seems rather pointless. Had I remained a tech, I'd be getting a raise to $14 per hour on the 1st which just proves how absurd some situations can be. There have been times when I regretted taking the promotion, but I have learned a lot of new things over the last 11 months and much of that was learning more about myself rather than the actual job duties. So looking back, I'd have to say that overall it was a worthwhile endeavor even if it ends with getting fired for the first time in over 30 years of employment. But enough of looking back - time to sweep the old out the door and make a toast to the New Year and better things in the future.

---------

P.S. The universe has sent me a sign that Christmas is over

PINK FLOYD REDUX...

It just kind of struck me...like reststop did...dark and ugly...

Dubya do you think they'll hang Saddam?
Dubya do you think they'll like this song?
Dubya do you think they'll try to break your balls?
Dubya should I build the wall?
Dubya should I run for president?
Dubya should I trust the government?
Dubya will they put me in the firing line?
Dubya am I really dying?

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Dubya's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Dubya's gonna put all his fears into you.
Dubya's gonna keep you right here under his wing.
He wont let you fly, but he might let you sing.
Dubya will keep baby cozy and warm.
Ooooh baby ooooh baby oooooh baby,
Of course dubya'll help to build the wall.

Dubya do you think it's good enough--for me?
Dubya do think it's dangerous - to me?
Dubya will it tear this little boy apart?
Dubya will it break our hearts?

Hush now baby, baby dont you cry.
Dubya's gonna check out all your armor for you.
Dubya won't let anything effective get through.
Dubya's gonna wait up till all of you die.
Dubya will ignore it when more of you die.
Dubya's gonna keep america wounded and sore.
Ooooh baby oooh baby oooh baby,
You'll always be oil to me.

Dubya, did you really have to lie?

GIVE ME A MINUTE TO WRAP MY HEAD AROUND THIS...PLEASE

I just saw a headline at CNN that says Saddam will be hanged at 9 pm my time. OK...I got that, 9 pm cst...but...but...why? What's the point? Sure, he gassed some kurds to death back in the day in retaliation for some percieved threat on his life, but...but...wasn't that right around the same time he was posing for pictures with Rumsfeld? He was our buddy then, right? So why doesn't he get a pass?
The irony of this scenario is spinning by so fast that I have vertigo...(falls out of chair...get's back up again ). Let's run it play by play.
Saddam kills a bunch of people...check.
Bush kills a bunch of people, as gubner of Texass and as the decider...check.
Saddam gets hanged for his "indescretions"...check.
Bush gets 2 more years in the whitehouse...huh?
It just doesn't add up.
In any sensible way.
Excuse me, I have to go vomit now...

AND WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY?

(click on the pic for a bigger pic dude!)
I ran some pipe...Hoo-Whee!

WHY I ENJOY BEING AN ELECTRICIAN...AS REQUESTED BY ANONYMOUS

I don't normally do requests, but, the comment inspired me to actually explore the reasons why I enjoy my trade so much. First and foremost, it's the sense of accomplishment...of creating something that while completely utilitarian, can also be a work of art (pipe bending is a perfect example, you take a straight piece of pipe and bend it, by hand, to fit the contours of your path).
I am constantly presented with challenges...how to make something work out and look professional...it makes me think and plan and use my brain as well as my hands. Speaking of hands...tools!
I have the coolest tools at my disposal, all of the hand tools are mine personally ( it's like buying shoes or vintage clothing...the tools make the man, man) and an array of power tools that are fun to utilize. Sure, we have the usual drills and saws, but we also have power benders for bending pipe that's larger than 1 1/4 "...heat guns for bending PVC pipe, tools that require skill.
I spent much of my adult life dealing with people in crisis, and during that time I never thought much about the skilled trades beyond " I could never do that " or " I wouldn't want to do that ". I was surrounded by people of similar opinions and goals in life and that brings me to the people. The trade is populated by an amazing diversity of people. I've worked with and for rednecks, hippies, redneck hippies, old school punks, hip hop brothers. Alot of the old timers are second and third generation electricians who carry a wealth of hints and shortcuts...so if you pay attention, you constantly learn new ways of doing things or affirm that your way is better.
After almost three years, I can say that I am ( and feel ) competant as an electrician, I still have a long way to go ( understanding the nuances of the actual electricitry ) , but the mechanics are firmly in place. And for that I owe a debt to the journeymen who got me this far...Rusty,Lee, Wolfie, Adolph, Carlos, Kevin, Steve, and most recently Ryan. They don't call it the international brotherhood of electrical workers for nothing.
If you are a union electrician, you are paid well. A journeyman in the Austin local 520 makes in excess of $ 23.00 an hour, more than that if you are the foreman. The benefits are good.
But mostly, in the end, it's looking at that 300 plus foot pipe run you did at the end of the day and saying " that looks good".
You get home tired and dirty...with a sense of satisfaction and a plan for tomorrow.
If you aren't afraid of : hard work, dirt, constant noise, heights and the possibility of being electrocuted ( possibly to death ) then I say go for it. It's a very dangerous, yet satisfying trade.
I think that about covers it...for now.

FROM BEYOND...

I'm sure you've seen Annabelle's posts about her current work situation, as I have. No, that's not entirely accurate, I have been living them with her and trying to make home life as stress free as possible. Since she has not burst into flames or killed the neighbors I think I have had some success. I have also been thinking about this job predicament she's in and trying to make some sense out of it. First off, let me say that she is my girl and, as expected, I am biased. But...I have never liked the management model of the company she works for. To my estimation, it is some quasi- japanese business model that boils down to profit over employee satisfaction, kind of a slave shop but with computers instead of sergers...imagine if you will, 45 people slaving away in front of compaq desktops from 7 to 10 hours a day dealing with every miscreant on the lower 48. Imagine computer illiterates inundating you with the stupidest questions and queries known to man...
Now, Imagine you are the supervisor of these 45 people, almost to a number are under 23, in college and the job is essentially beer money to them...and don't even get me started on the cadre of fat dykes in goodwill clothing that can't get work anywhere else. This company will hire anyone, no matter how recalcitrant or otherwise socially displaced and then bow up up when the sun doesn't shine out of thier asses. Imagine you are the supervisor expected to create rays of sunshine out of each and everyone of those asses. Your monthly bonus depends on it, nay, your ability to remain gainfully employed depends on it.
Unlike our parents, who got jobs and stayed with them for life until retirement, Ann and I are of a mid generation that got 2 or 3 jobs and that was our working life. Our employers appreciated us and the work we did and retained us for as long as we were willing to work...and provided for us when we got to retirement age.
Not so much anymore.
More and more companies are shifting to this japo-fuck-you model and more and more people are changing jobs like I change my socks, and when they transition into thier forties I wish them the same anxiety and uncertainty that we are experiencing now...they did it to us, they fucking deserve it back in kind.
My mom had a saying that I fuck up everytime I try to resay it, but I manage to just get the gist....
"As they are now, please do not diminish them, because you will surely someday be" or something like that that, but it was about respecting age...and experience...and it's value.

CHECK OUT THOSE CANS MAN!

These are the main panel cans for the job I'm currently on, Ryan (6' 2") is to the right of the giant can... just to give you an idea of how massive they can be; With the exception of the small one on the far left, he and I hung them all.



Hopefully, you can get an idea of how much power it takes to provide electricity for a retail store.
More to come.
:)...unlike my better half (bitter, currently?) I'm loving my job.

Turmoil
It's really an odd feeling to work on Christmas Day. Or any other holiday for that matter. The friends and family are celebrating, asking you over for dinner or a BBQ or what-have-you and you can't go because you have to work. It's a crunch on non-holidays as well such as when the good friend, who works M-F, 8 to 4 ask you to come to happy hour on Friday afternoon but you can't because you are working until 8pm that night and have to be back to work at 8am the next morning. And after the 1st of the year I start working until 11pm or later on weeknights plus a mandatory weekend shift every single weekend. If I'm lucky, I might see Rob on Sunday, provided nothing bad happens to me on the way to my car some night (it's not a very safe trip from work to car after about 9 pm.) And so I'm faced with a real dilemma. Because you see, I'm going to be fired on the 15th if I don't somehow cause my employees to drastically improve their performance. And while it might be possible to accomplish that, there's a part of me that really wants out of this job from hell and it's trying really hard to convince me to just do nothing and let myself get canned. Add to that the part of me that thinks not matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be good enough so why bother and it's a pretty tough fight between those two and my normal frame of mind which is to do the best I can do and what ever happens, happens. To say I'm conflicted right now would be an understatement. And even though this has all been roiling around in my brain for the last two weeks, I have, for the most part, kept the upper hand and continued to bust my ass at work despite the circumstances. I'm most likely a fool and it's probably all for naught, but if nothing else, I'm being true to myself. And I suppose in the long run, that's all that really matters.

OOOOWWWW! PAPA'S GOT A BRAND NEW BODY BAG!

James Brown passed away today. That's a christmas present I didn't need. 1933 to 2006...74 years old, man that's a long time. let us reflect on his many accomplishments. He was a leader in intrastate police chases while under the influence of PCP, after brandishing a shotgun on some real estate agents that were stinking up his "private" bathroom. Man! What an icon!
Seriously...he was an innovator, the true king of R&B and soul, and all that shit people are saying about him is true.
I mean the So. Carolina highway patrol shot his tires out from underneath him and he didn't turf...how fucking cool is that???
I will miss James Brown...and I want his cape...seriously.
I just hope god's ready for your bad ass ,James, peace out brother!



"I feel like a sex machine, when I'm not fucked up on PCP...OOOOWWWW!!!"

I NEED HELP...OR SOMETHING

Clem and Jane wish you a merry christmas...

Just one more...

PEYOTE

AND SO THIS IS CHRISTMAS...

I know I said I was out til 07...but these were too cool to not share. No more text nigga's! enjoy...


The reason for the season


Ann and her mama


Brandy, Sean and Kyle


The core fam...dude, we rule.


The best gift ever


All grown up...


His corner since he could fit in it...check the nutcracker...

Merry christmas niggas!!!!! :)

Merry Christmas and a Happier New Year
I'm working tomorrow so tonight is going to be Christmas for me. Works out since my family switched to doing the feast and present exchange on Christmas Eve at some point in my childhood, probably about the time I was old enough to attend midnight mass without falling asleep in the middle of it. I did my Christmas shopping today on Christmas Eve as I usually do, but it was even easier now that we've all moved to swapping cash for cash (or gift cards) as presents. This is even sillier than the old sweater and house-shoe exchange that we used to do. I did specifically request a sweater this year and I'm gonna laugh my ass off if I get a gift card or cash instead. Rob gave me a very nice (and very large) candle plus some beautiful champagne flutes for us to use on special occasions like annivesaries and New Years. I gave him a keyboard. Easy to tell who's the romantic, eh?

Here's wishing you all a wonderful time in what ever way you choose to celebrate the season.

REMEMBER THAT PRAYER FROM FULL METAL JACKET? WE HAVE OUR FUN, OK?

Ryan and I have been cracking each other up this week with a variety of inane, pop culture morphs. Our favorite is the prayer from FMJ..."This is my rifle...", only we go: "This is my scissor lift, there are many like it,but this one is mine. Without me, my scissor lift is useless, without my scissor lift, I am useless"... or...rifiing on that line from Snakes on a plane..."What's up with all these motherfucking scissor lifts on this job that don't motherfucking lift?! I don't know about your contractor, but you have a scissor lift problem". and then there's " Robbbb, Robbbb, Rob Lobster!!!!" .
Today we did three 250 foot wire pulls...4 conducters, 4 neutrals, 1 dirty ground and 1 isolated ground...10 wires pulled through a 1 inch conduit x 3, 1 of which we had to run the conduit first. We followed each other around in lifts across a pitched ceiling that started at 20 ft. and our end point was 35 ft., navigating around all manner of airborne obstacles ( sprinkler pipes and HVAC ducts ) as well as shit on the ground (palets of lights, gang boxes, HVAC vents and hoods). Driving around in a lift reminds me alternately of Aliens, where Sigourney walks around in that lift loader of the future and Tron...for reasons yet to be defined, maybe it's the sound effects.
It was a gruelling day that started at 7am and ended at 6pm ( not counting the 35 minutes I spent looking for my keys...dammit! they were in my nail apron! ) DOH! Here's a shitty phone camera shot of me in all my safety gear...George, being old, cut off the top of my head....like old people are wont to do.



Wer'e done until Tuesday...and so am I.
Merry merry everyone!!!!See you next week!

Here we go again
There's a saying that life is a series of lessons and you either learn the one you are working on and move to the next one or you keep repeating it over and over again until you finally get it. I'm apparently in the wash, rinse and repeat mode when it comes to jobs. It sort of goes like this: Bust ass, then get shit on and end up looking for a new job where I can repeat the process all over again. Mind you, I'm still employed at the moment, but the end might be very near. I'll let you know on or before January 15th.

A SYMPTOM OF THE UNIVERSE...

Good news...my buddy got out of parchment farm yesterday. He called me today to let me know and to thank me for coming to see him. Fuck...it was the least I could do, and I was glad to do it. Nuff said on that subject. He's out and reunited with his heart and home and that's good enough for me. You don't normally hear it in this context, but it couldn't of happened to a nicer guy.
In sort of related electrician news, I pulled wire with Ryan at 35 feet in the air on a lift, the pulling part made the lift rock back and forth like crazy, which freaked me out...it didn't help that Ryan said " Did you take your dramamine today"? before lift off. The elevation doesn't bother me so much, it's the rocking back and forth and the terror of the lift falling over ( can't happen, but fear is fear right?)
Further challenges await...

WORK HURTS SOMETIMES

Click on the little deflicted thumb for a BIG deflicted thumb...ouch.
Photo by Ann...thanks honey.

AN OPEN LETTER TO MATT DAMON

Dear Matt...
I saw the "teaser" clip of your little soap box thing over the weekend, and while I was initially impressed ("Hey! Matt Damon's giving Bush and his FAS "twin" daughters the one-two about the war! You go Matt!!!" ) Then the reality of what was really happening sunk in.
Grandstanding on a monumental and obscene scale. On the face of it I agree with you, the burden of this war should be shared by each and every able bodied american of an age to serve.
Which brings me to you, mister born on October 8th, 1970 . Let's see, that makes you 36. And that gives me an idea, why don't you join up and go over there and serve your country?And I don't mean some candy ass good will tour in the green zone...I mean combat in Anbhar. You could take Affleck with you and your whole entourage with a project greenlight crew and film the whole thing. And if you live through it, you can sell the film and make another kajillion bucks that your overpaid yankee ass doesn't deserve.
Well...what about it big man at the microphone? What's that? You have "other priorities"? Like Cheney, I guess.
Pick up a gun or get over yourself, you've been hanging out with Clooney too much lately.
Hugs...mean it! :)
Th' Rev.

CAN I SEE YOUR LIGHTER? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

My buddy and our drummer, Swampy...AKA Badger...AKA Bill, gives me lighters. Sometimes for no reason, sometimes on occaisions. On my birthday this year I got a lighter in the shape of a mini microphone... a shure sm-58...mesh head old school shit. But get this, it's also a flashlight! I got a coffin shaped one a couple years ago with a skull and iron cross crossbones and a turtle one that when you pull down on his arm fire shoots out of his mouth. They totally rule. As does my bro...

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

Wishing you all the best ...



Ann & Rob

THE TACO TRUCK...OR TWO

Every morning break there are two taco trucks waiting for us in the parking lot. The first time I scored it was from the woman in a sonoma pick-up truck with an oven in the bed (covered with a camper shell) and some ice chests with drinks. Since I have a minimal at bestgrasp of spanish, I searched the bin labels and recognized pollo (HEY! That's CHICKEN!) and papas (That's POTATO!). I got one...and spent the rest of the day in the grip of a acid indigestion/gaseous clay/nausea/feverish haze. It was miserable. I thought I had some rolaids in my bag (salvation!) only to discover one lone powdery tablet at the bottom of my bag. I felt like shite for the rest of the night, and the next day I was told of the "real" taco truck.
This dude has the best Carne Guisada tacos I've ever had...ever . They rule.
But, lunch is another story.
We get 30 minutes, and our location makes it difficult to go anywhere and botulism taco woman is the only one who comes back at lunch. So, I got some lunch stuff tonight and packed my lunch.
Check this:
For tomorrow I have:
Bologna,ham and cheese sammy
Peanut butter and apple jelly sammy (yes...I forgot the honey...again)
2...yes...2 pudding cups. Chocolate / vanilla swirl and chocolate / cookie dough
Chips...potato
Cashews
4 cans of coke.
My daily rations will be the envy of everyone on my crew, I tell you!!!
The ENVY!!!!!

THERE ARE SOME THINGS I KNOW FOR CERTAIN

You should never watch 4 episodes of Six Feet Under back to back even though you and A&E think it's a good idea. If you have issues with: death, dysfunctional families or death, they will come up...spectacularly well written and produced in your mind.

If you worked on a crisis intervenion team in a psych hospital, it's not a good idea to wind down after a shift filled with violence and dispair by drinking/drugging with your co-workers while watching movies about the war in Viet Nam. Sure, it makes for some great stories later on in life, but your reality will be forever skewed and your soul will be damaged.

But, oddly enough, you can live with that.

If you are at the grocery and decide not to buy any honey (for honey and peanut butter sandwiches for your work lunch ) because you are certain there is some in the pantry at home...there isn't. And you will have to make do with grape jam and PB instead, because Ann wasn't wearing her glasses at the store and got jam instead of jelly, and she thought jam did'nt even exist anymore.

Jam should not exist...it's like marmalades retarded cousin.

We have the cuddliest dogs ever...

SOMEBODY NEEDS TO TAKE THIS ASSHOLE OUT

Holacaust denier...anti-semite...ASSHOLE...pay my way over there...please...I'll do the world a favor. I can't believe anyone would negotiate with the likes of this pile of hate and shit...and his latest calls to eliminate israel just underline his insanity.
Really, call me.

DOWN IN A HOLE V.2

Oh my god...I am paying for my sins apparently. I'm at the haverty's job site and our task was to dig out the main feed pipes going under the building, cut off the offending, retarded looking 90 degree bends behind the couplings, attach new couplings and replace the 90's like they were meant to be. We spent all day on this little project, and at the end of it, had removed 2 and a half of the offending 90's, covered ourselves in mud and cuts and smoked a shitload of cigarettes when it wasn't our turn to dig , saw, chip hammer, or otherwise try to remove this bullshit.
If this is electrician purgatory, I am in heaven! I fucking loved it.
This site is a wasteland of clusterfucks gone cluster-fuck-ier...it's amazing.
And today the general contractor cut our schedule by 10 days...so starting tomorrow it's 5 tens...10 hours of overtime a week, just in time for christmas...HOO-WHEE!!!!
Stay tuned for pictures...tomorrow...maybe.
Sign me...
beat down but smiling.
Update: I forgot the most interesting part of all of this, usually the trades break down like this: Electricians: predominantly white rednecks, a few black dudes, a few hispanics. Construction/drywall: wetbacks, erm..."guestworkers". HVAC: white rednecks, an occaisional hispanic. The HVAC ( heating,ventilation and air conditioning) crewon this job are...brace yourself Special K are raisins! Yes sir... certified, dyed in the wool gooks.
Chuck,Dink, Slope, whatever you wanna call em, Vietnamese. Not one of them over 5 foot 1. And since there is no music allowed on this job ( :( ), we are serenaded by the beautiful sing songy ness of vietnamese. I joke, I use slang names, but really, these people amaze me. And the language is like music, sometimes grating, like when one of them fucks something up, but generally a very pleasing sound. I did'nt like the gooks that were shooting at my friends in nam, but these guys are cool. They squat or sit on thier hard hats during breaks, eat noodles at break and lunch,and chain smoke like motherfuckers. Attributes that had been presented to me in film and lore as sterotypical are just that, but it's become clearer to me that this is a cultural thing. That's just how those "little motherfuckers" are, like I'm a white redneck electrician...and let me tell you...they kick some ass when it comes to HVAC...and they have their own microwave! How cool is that?
Now, K, I know "raisin" is a term you use to generalize old folks, but alot of those raisins are asian and on the bus...if memory serves.
right?...:)
This isn't like saying "NIGGA" is it? Bwahahahaahahahahahahahahahhahaha!!!!!!!

RETRO MAN....

Yesterday was SO awesome...so many memories. When I got home, I followed a thread from crooks and liars that started with a Bon Scott era AC/DC clip at YouTube and ended at after 3 in the morning...
Today I went to waterloo and bought "let there be rock", Joan Osbornes "Relish" (What if god was one of us) and a Sabbath DVD..."last supper". We put up christmas lights to this today...To this stuff...old days, old ways...rock and roll...the sabbath DVD rules for the interviews...my heros.



And look what happened...
What if god was ONE OF US?

Update....11:45pm...I watched the season closer of the wire, it ruled. I had the late night munchies, so we went to kerbey lane on south lamar. Had'nt been there in a while, service was spotty, food too...I forgot it was a pay your server joint and left a tip at our table and tried to pay the "hostess" (you know,by the CASH register) she informed me that unless I was paying with a credit card she could'nt help me...so I track down our waitress and pay her...I jokingly made a comment about the hostess's inabilty to do simple math. As we exited the lane, said hostess followed us outside and called me on my comment...the emo-busboy apparently ratted me out. She says " That guy behind you (emo-busboy) said you said I was a bitch who didn't understand simple math".
As Ann was saying it was a joke, I was saying yes and the bitch spun on her heels and went back inside...Before the door shut I got off a loud "FUCK YOU".
Made my weekend, that.
HOO-WHEE!!!!!

THAT LIVERWURST SANDWICH WILL NEVER DIE

We came,we saw, it was awesome.


front: Mike, Toody, Sister. back: Bill, me, Debbie.


L to R: Sister, Debbie, Toody, Bruce, Mike, Bill, Lanora


Me and Rita...

It was a blast...

THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY...SORTA

It was very cold this morning, and I was still hobbling around like Chester from Gunsmoke. We pulled wire, all day. 150 foot runs, 5 in each pull, 4 500's and a #8 ground. Something happened to my ankle mid afternoon ( in that fucking manhole ) and suddenly I wasn't Chester anymore, I was walking like Hazel...50's sitcom staple. It was like my head and shoulders were in a deathrace with my legs. I was not amused, but I'm sure the people who saw me were. I'm back to almost normal gait at this writing.
At the end of the day I got the news. I've been moved again to another "hot spot" starting monday. Oh well, it's the nature of the trade I guess. I know alot of the guys there and have worked for the foreman before, so, new site, old friends.It's a crew of 18 working 2 shifts so there'll be some overtime involved I'm sure.
I'm gonna miss working with Kevin and Tiny, but I'm sure we'll cross paths again.
I confirmed our brunch with Toody this evening, I told her I had some surprizes for her and she said " I can handle that honey, see you at 11" ...Fearless, that one!
I took swampy's advice and there'll be a stop at the florists beforehand tomorrow. Swampy is another surprize...amongst others.
Look for pictures and commentary tomorrow night.

THE RUN UP...

Saturday is fast approaching, and my anxiety is turning into this mix of excitement / let's get it over with already kind of mish-mash. I got a confirmation call from sister tonight, who is bringing another old friend with her. I'm glad I set this whole thing up after everythings said and done, not just to see people I have'nt seen in 30 years, but rather to pay respect to the woman who touched all of our lives in significant ways. That's it really. I for one can say frankly, that had Toody Byrd not been involved in my life, I would probably be dead, or worse, in some prison somewhere, not to say that I was that bad...I was just impulsive and misguided, and, well, stupid. Toody kept me, and all of us really, from falling off our own particular brinks we flitted around.
So saturday has a special meaning for me. A reverence if you will. And, as Mike says "she's gotta be what?112 years old by now"? I want to believe that she will be here forever, doling out homespun nuggets of genious to the following generations of lost boys and girls.
She should be sainted as far as I'm concerned.
I'm gonna take a shitload of pictures...that's for sure.

DOWN IN A HOLE

This is the manhole we pulled our wire from.


Here's a close up showing my first ever "forming up" over the pipes...it reminded me of those volcano science projects from grade school.


Here's the building we pulled the wire to...taken from the distance from the manhole, about 150 ft..

Exciting stuff, huh?

THE SMELL OF STALE KNICKERS...

You know what I mean...Limberger, shrimp, sardine, open sewer. We've all smelled ourselves...and, unfortunately, others in our proximity. The smell of stale knickers. As repulsed as we are, it defines us in a way. I smell like Suzi's chinese kitchen grease pit. Is it time for the Wire replay yet? No?have I killed enough time? The Icy hot isn't burning my nostrils anymore... I think I'll look for that TSOL CD.....:)

OUCH...

I don't know if it's been the colder mornings (low to mid 30's), being outside in it or having to make my 47 year old bones bend in ways and contort in confined spaces, but I suspect it's a combination of these things making me HURT.
This morning, I hobbled to the shower Tim Conway style circa Carol Burnett. I was good after the hot shower, but dammit! I'm too young to feel like this. I need BW to conjure me a spell to make my bones and muscles young again! At least 35...please??? It would go a long way in solving the problems of the world, I swear!
My world, anyway.
Pictures of this fire base tomorrrow, promise...described by a member of another trade as the worst site he'd ever been on. Now, I don't know about all that, there seems to be a bit of personal connected to that comment. We're just doing electrical work.
Actually, I was cutting and gluing PVC pipe most of the day,taking me back to the days when I was a pool nigga, and much to my surprize, I enjoyed it out of context. But not as much as I enjoyed saying pool NIGGA!!!!!!!!!!!!

MAYBE I SHOULD'VE INCLUDED A QUESTION MARK

There it is...you can make one too:
signbot

hold on...

NOT ME...I'M BIRTHDAY BOY

Even though it was on thursday, the real birthday deal did'nt happen until last night and today. Ann and I stayed up late, drank way more than normal, played music really loud and sang along with every song, danced with each other and the dogs. I brought in the 7 tennis balls I'd collected from the current job and played crazy fetch with sully, in between go-go dancing to the totally awesome TSOL song "Flowers by the Door" (a totally go-go dancer riff...an amazing song) . Theo and Irene got into the act as well. It was cool.
Slept in this morning and headed out to brunch around 1pm...food and margs with our buddy Joel...he got me these for a gift:



That's my lunchbox in the background....HOO-WHEE! :).
You know, I don't feel blessed very often, but today I did. My girl, one of my best friends, good food and drink...you can't ask for more.

ALI MCGRAW WAS RIGHT!

"Sorry 'bout that, Niggas"...


"Sorry 'bout that, Jews"...


"Sorry 'bout that, impressionable young boys I assfucked"...


"Sorry 'bout that, congregation of 40 million...oh, yeah, you too honey"...

I read this at CNN...amazing! I never thought it was this fucking easy!
Read this bullshit from CNN, The HUGE moving conveyor belt section is particularly gag inducing..."Therapeutic culture" ??? Please. This "culture" hasn't been "therapeutic" in at least a generation, in the real sense of the word anyway.
So let me make sure I understand how this works...Show your ass...apologize publicly...ZING!!!...problem solved! Well, in that case...


"Sorry 'bout that, world"...
Man! Do I feel better, or what?