Friday, August 26, 2011

Hurricane Full of Sharks

A storm's a-brewin', as they say, and for those of us in the greater tri-state area, things are about to get... interesting. This Hurricane Irene business has already proved to be a more hostile, high-speed run on commercial goods than this winter's Milk and Eggs fiasco - bottled water flying off the shelves, the newly-militarized Knights of Columbus are stalking the streets with bats and chains, looking for loosely secured goods, generators, tarps, anything that isn't buckled down, really.

That's right! You best hope that your genny is running if you've got one, and if you don't, you can kiss your milk and eggs goodbye because when the power goes out this time, it ain't coming back for a fortnight minimum. Mid-September's trash will be rife with those steaks and gallons of chili you forgot about in the back of the freezer. By Wednesday, there will no longer be such a thing as ice cream, only the memory...

But I'm no fool! I don't subscribe to such tomfoolery! It's all an idle threat - at least to me. I have a lead on a black market deck cannon from long ago decommissioned WWII Navy Heavy Cruiser that went by name Greta, and enough Silver Iodide to blast Irene into the Sixties. Now the only question is how to get that big gun mounted on my roof.

Of course, all things being equal, and let's just say this big bitch does in fact rip through my perfectly manicured back yard - I will be ready. The human body can subsist on canned goods and booze for many weeks, if not years, and we are chock full of that, man! The only thing left to consider is this: How many horrible, man-biting sharks is this hurricane going to pick up, with their soulless eyes, and mouths full of chomping razor death? And who do you call to remove these flopping, sashimi-grade station wagons from your yard?

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Castrated Triple-Amputee

It is arguable that I have spent much to much time down in the lab, as it were, this summer to properly focus, on documenting the horrors that go on all around me (much as a result of my own horrible behavior). But this is fine, I thought to myself as I scooped up another shovelful of dog shit from the yard and brought it to that awful, fly infested shit bucket - Summertime is that brilliantly hazy time when ideas fester and atrophy until only the really bad ones grow legs and become unwieldy, peasant dominating corpse-monsters who terrorize all those lowly civvies in the neighborhood etc, etc...

Bad ideas like trying to resurrect a recently donated motorcycle that's missing more parts than a castrated triple-amputee, with a budget of exactly Zero Dollars, but merely a wealth of MacGuyver-like ingenuity, and of course, a few beer cans, some low-rent epoxy and maybe some duct tape for good measure. These kinds of weird projects tend to taint your every thought with an ugly, obsessive crushing force that squeezes out all other thoughts, until you're looking at everything as if it could be part of this offensive master plan, which will no doubt be forgotten or dis-enthused in another week or so.

So that's where I'm at - stuck inside my own head, no light bulb burning, just the dim, grey glow of obsession tickling the tinkerer's bung of my wrinkled and puckered mind. If you need me, I'll be over here twitching and nursing the bags under my eyes with soggy tea bags.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Big, Nasty, Unbreaded Turd

Is Friday a bad time to expound philosophically on our current system of Government? I'd say; but like any bad idea, I'm all for it. Sure, it's easy to talk about this Over Here, where, with a high powered telescope you can watch what the vicious youth tribes are doing in the streets over in Union Jack Country. Those are ugly times, indeed. My prediction, for betting folks who follow world news and Politics is this: the next big riots will be in Asia - either the Mongoloid-North of China or one of the many Korea's, but either way, that's the next big mosh pit. After that? Probably Canada or Mexico. I hear Juarez is particularly nasty this time of year...

But I seem to have gotten off track here. Our current system of Government is a lot like a big, nasty, continuously expanding Shit Sandwich that you are forced to eat or suffer horribly at the at the end of poison-tipped spears and shiny leather whips. Some people eat the Shit Sandwich with a half-hearted smile and don't argue. Some people are anarchists and try to run past the spears. But the meat of the argument here falls on the Politicians, of which their are two kinds - the ones who want nice even Shit Sandwiches for everyone on nice plates with a napkin and a big glass of milk to make it all go down easier, and those who just want smaller shit sandwiches. Two Parties, One Cup.

Sure, a smaller Shit Sandwich sounds great - but the Shit Sandwich is constantly growing, albeit proportionally. So when the demand for smaller Shit Sandwiches is heard and addressed, first they make it smaller by taking away the napkin and the milk, then the plate, so you're left with this big nasty bastard in your hand. Then they start trimming away the bread - all the while stuffing in even more shit, saying, "Nope, we gotta get rid of all this shit..." So the end game here is that you're left with a big, nasty, unbreaded turd, right in the palm of your hand and a big frown on your face.

It seems that any attempt to trim down Government always leaves us with all the legislation we don't want, and kills all the useful and socially beneficial services. Of course, go to far in the other direction and we're all sitting at metal folding tables with acrylic vases filled with plastic flowers, wearing Shit Sandwich eating gloves and lobster bibs, staring off at a framed painting of good ol' Chairman Mao, who's creepy, child-like eyes seem to follow you around the room...

Friday, August 5, 2011

Bastard Downgrade

Alright, so the USA's credit has been downgraded. The horror...

No, not really. The mediocrity of this can be explained quite simply by this anecdote: Last weekend, I was in Newport, drunk, and in a pizza joint. During some sort of banal mix up, an indignant old man stole Jamie's seat and Dave, roughly as drunk as I was, initiated a conflict with the bitter old man in direct response to the bad man's arrogance. I'm not gonna lie, things got pretty ugly for a moment there - I thought I might have had to choke an old man. I thought for sure this salty old bastard was going to get pummelled in the street until his veins spurted forth the sweet, sweet apollogy of his ancient, gellatenous stubborn old blood. But I was wrong.

The same goes for the USA's credit status. All of the sudden, and as if from out of nowhere, everything is horribly and violently different. But. No big deal. We will all walk away fine...

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Felony Fitness

Wind farms are a sucker's bet. Green is the buzzword these days, and many say that wind turbines are the answer to our energy problems forever. This is utter tomfoolery. There is no guarantee that there will always be wind, let alone that it will blow in the right direction. Sure, these mammoth fans can provide clean, renewable energy at the negligible expense of a few misguided birds, and yes, contrary to popular belief they actually look cool and space-age, and are not an eyesore to anyone, not even those who claim this from the front porches of their waterfront property, obsessively checking Zillow every five minutes to reassess their property value. Come on people, this is America! We can do better than fans!

Imagine a world where energy is free for everyone and the social burden of our prison system is a thing of the past. That's right, I say we set up our prisons with electricity generating treadmills! Let the criminals repay their debt to society through the miracle of jogging! It's just like hamsters, except most of these bastards deserve the Wheel!

With this unique and innovative mix of Planet Fitness and an old fashion Gulag, the savings will be tremendous! In 2006 alone, almost 70 Billion was spent on corrections, so let's put that investment to good use! No more lounging around on luxurious concrete benches or visits to the endless buffet of anal sex for our criminals, bandits and ne'er-do-wells! With all that jogging that will be required, inmates will be much too tired to constantly deflower one another! Let them do work!

But wait, there's more! Now, under this new policy, we'll be able to easily identify criminals in their natural habitat, the street, by their new identifying characteristic - enormous legs! Yes, this new means of powering our future not only ensures a healthy planet for generations to come, but also allows the incarcerated time to really think about what they've done, without all the clouded judgement and survival mentality that a healthy fear of shanking instills.