M&Ms are from Mars (TM), Skittles are from Venus
2002-07-03 - 8:04 a.m.
And now it's time for everyone's favourite lingo, Pasty White [Non-Italian] Gang Boy!
"Check it. Check it so far, you're at the foul line. He shoots, and it's nothin' but net every time. That's the connection we get. 56K-in-the-ghettos connection. At least it would be, if we got a net, but we dun't, so it's nothin' but nothin'. We're talkin' mega chill here, yo. double mega chill. Hamburger, if it was any more chill, I'd have to be hot, you down? You get? I always felt like we had this connection, man. Like, I'd say sumthin', and you'd know what I'm talkin' about, that kinda connection that brings people together yo. That's it. It's all about the that, and none about the who. Dun't give me that pen-is-mighty-than-the-sword bullhole, the meassage be the thing that get's the pen writtin'. Haaaamburger. Hamburgler gotta love them hamburgers, else he wouldn't eat 'em. You know. That's what I'm sayin'. Yo." (expanded translation of 'The Medium Is The Message')
Got in a car accident (yes, I was still on my temporary license). But I insist that it wasn't my fault. The curb was going unsafely over the speed limit, moving a relative 40mph in a 25mph zone, and right toward me. What could I do, but answer the call with a game of chicken? You see, I had to hit it, to teach it a lesson about speeding in residential zones. He was probably intoxicated anyhow. So we colided, and my [or should I say Tony's] right front tire blew out...I skidded to a stop, the van headlight-to headlight with a local cop who was poaching speeders. Enter Stephanie, the only female cop in Caribou. Nice girl, not too much older than myself, albeher (albeit w/ pronoun) an army brat. We sat in her car and shot the shit about the Bush administration's violations on the constitution...the rest of the conversation was forced timekiller stuff, while we waited for the tire gnome to show back up. She gave me a lift to the ATM somewhere in there, and I asked her where she wanted to go to lunch (unfortunately, I had a real job and so could not join her, I explained [to myself].) And she showed me how the speed-sensor works, bouncing signals off the innards of the car rather than the surface, as I had originally suspected. This destroys my mirror-exterior cover invention, but it was good to learn anyhow. Rainy days and air conditioners, that's what messes 'em up. It's a lot like fishin�, really. You sit down to 'catch the big one', the car that's going the most over the speed limit, and you don't care about catching the little ones too much. You sit in a 'sweet spot' and wait for them, or paddle around trolling. Oddly, it's usually a catch-and-release system...ticket the fish and let it go. And if the fish bites, you can always chop it's fins off and throw it on the ground for it to suffocate [analogy: jail].
Figured out what I'm gonna do with my money, when I'm growed up and have more of the stuff than I know what to do with. Father has, since he's been able to drive, wanted a littleredsportscar. the brand and style changes every five years or so, but in general he has always wanted something small, personal...fast enough for one, crowded and yet comfortable with two. This is his life's wish, his only surviving dream. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like it's comming true anytime soon. Wish-number-one granted, two to go. The second would be to retire Mum. Leave her enough money to live on when she finds she (and Step-father) can't work anymore. They make about $1000 a month, tops, before taxes and after the $20 check the government thinks a person can live on in two weeks. Of course, they don't have any money to save, after paying bills and buying cigarettes...they're lucky if they have money left over to donate to the food bank. One wish left to be fullfilled, and I'm really not sure where to put it. Too many people to save, not enough time to do so, and too many demons standing in the way.
Sidenote: Why is all the paper money in this country green? Might have something to do with envy. The more of it you have, the more you want to be like a person that has more...just another theory without statistical evidence.
Lost well into 6pm, looking for one more funeral to deliver a casket to. Asked directions several times, but each time I got them from the opposite point-of-reference from the actual way I was approaching the target. This does not make me feel stoopid. The fact that I passed the place at least four times without seeing it...does. The ride home was quiet, as I gave myself the silent treatment. Then again, if everything were cream pie, it would taste like beets. (In the intrest of reference: this was the same day I got the flat tire.)
Sometimes, I think that if I were to do one thing, just one thing Well, it would cancel out all the things that I can't do worth a shyt. Of course, I haven't had the luck to find such a thing yet, and so the theory goes unprooved [as all good thesi do].
Why I drive fast. Houlton to Pittsfield in less than two hours...any more [time] is simply not possible. I do this to catch up with my brain, which moves like an RNA polymerase down the half-DNA strand that we call I-95. So the polymerase rolls down the highway, analyzing situations, observing the dynamic, and it follows that the newly-made mRNA is compelled to follow. The dynamic, the concentration of 'car' or lack thereof, changes as another car pulls on, but the brain is already at the crest of the bridge ahead of me, and so doesn't consider the car a present situation, but a past one. Or a past two, three...et al.
'We live in an 'et al' universe. No person is too insignificant not to be felt...everyone contributes to the Story that Is.' -Nemo
Things that really do exist: the Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests (led by Barbara Blaine). I would comment more on this, but those people that sued the Vatican are still looking for a new target.
Before that lat funeral, I helped the florist set up the flowers. Token gesture. And then she asked me to pry the dead squirrel out of her radiator. Excessive gesture. Not that I had a problem with this; it wasn't even splattered...my guess was that it had tried to crawl into the grill and got it's head stucked. But upon prying, I found that it was still limp, so it couldn't have been dead more than an hour or two. Upon a more thorough investigation, it appeared to be pregnant. The poor lil' buggar might have even been crawling into the front of the car to start a lil' family of lil' buggars. Sad really. If the fright from the car being turned on didn't kill it, the heat from the engine must have. Not that I blame the guy who engineered the grill of the car...besides, squirrels come in a wide variety of car-grill sizes these days.
Misheard songs:
"Mama don't take my provolone, leave that funky cheese at home, mama don't take my provolone, away-ay-ay..."
"we are we are, the eu-than-ais-ia..."
And then, of course, there's the ol'secret asian man' mishearing... I was thinking about doing a whole song for this one: "secret, asian man, secret, asian man / you've got a visa but mastrcard is everywhere you want to be / they've taken away your chopsticks, and-given-you-a-stupid-name-like 'joe'."
Of course, it doesn't really fit with the beat...this is how new songs are made?
I just can't understand why health food junkies have to pay so much for vitamins and proteins, when they could just eat some fish food. "The flakes that melt in your mouth, and crumble in your fingers! Fish food contains many essential vitamins and minerals...in fact nearly 34% of fish food is crude proteins, perfect for digesting! Actually, part of the fish food has even been digested for you! Folks, you can't get a better deal than this...and for a limited time only, you can buy a year's supply of fish food for about three dollars!"
Sidenote: I find is funny that when a man gets into his early forties, he realizes that he still has time to start over. He opens a window to his own vision and sees what really matters to him. And we call this a 'crisis'.
That's about it for now...*looking at place where a watch would be*...those cow bones should be just about done bleaching. Paperweights and pencil-holders.
