2011年7月30日 Public Transit

In the news: 

An 84-year-old woman was severely beaten at a MAX station leaving her bruised, a deep cut to her head and a broken nose. 

Muriel, who did not want her last name used, was sitting on a bench at the Cleveland Avenue stop waiting for a bus when police say 19-year-old Cordarius Deshawn Jeffreys came up to Muriel and repeatedly punched her in the head with closed fists. 

“He would come right at you and just sit there for just a second and then put out (his hands) start beating your head as hard as he can. That’s what he did,” Muriel said. 

Police said Jeffreys was harassing women at the MAX stop just before 2:30 p.m. Wednesday.

More bullshit on the issue here.

I have serious questions regarding this issue:

1. Seriously? 
2. At 2:30pm an 84 year old woman gets beat down? 
3. Seriously? 
4. What the hell is up with that shit?

When I first saw the article I was like, "I bet this is in Gresham." Low and behold, I was right. So really it all makes sense now. Gresham is not a safe place for 84 year old women. 

Another woman was hurt while trying to help defend Muriel but not nearly so badly. 

After the attack, police said Jeffreys walked off the MAX platform. When police confronted him, they say Jeffreys resisted arrest and they had to deploy a Taser to subdue him.

Wait, what the fuck? No one except another woman went to help? How the hell does that make sense?

Example on why it does not make sense, and here's a Hollywood version of what happened:

Enter assailant: "Hi, I'm a young angry black man. I grew up under rough conditions, and because society doesn't understand me I'm going to beat old Jewish women."

Enter only witness-to-do-something-other-than-watching: "Hello, I'm just an average woman who thinks women's lib means we're all equal. I don't believe in violence, but I need to do something to stop this guy."

Enter police after do-something-other-than-watching woman fails: "We're the police, we like shooting people because we're all republicans who hate democrats, blacks, and homosexual animals. Let's tazer him, bro!"

No this isn't a movie I would end up actually watching, but yes I would wiki it then read the plot with my "meh"-face. I'm totally disappointed that NO ONE manned up for the Jew-lady.

If by this point you think I'm over-reacting, look at KGW's article on the issue:

"He started beating on me," said Muriel.  "On my head, on my head, as hard as he could go."

Muriel suffered a broken nose, bruises around her eyes, and a cut on her head.  Witnesses estimate she was hit nearly 20 times.

"I thought I was going to die," said Muriel.

At least the witnesses can count.

This guy can count too!

The only realistic questions I have at this point are pretty much the same as a guy* who posted a comment on the issue, 

"Just curious. If someone was leagally [sic] carrying a handgun and this was going on in front of him, would using a firearm in that case be legal?? Law mentions things like eminent danger of you or someone around you. A guy[*] like that could easily kill an old woman with his fists, but I wonder if you did pop a couple rounds into him, would you be the one in jail?"

*Yes it's a guy, it's always a guy. Or a butch lesbian, who also doubles as a FTM guy on Craigslist's casual encounters.

So much for going green with riding the light-rail, train, bus, and endangered animals. I thought this shit was supposed to be worth it.

2011年7月28日 Default and PT

There are things I do not understand about the government:

1. Why it is called congress instead of progress?
2. Why is it called a default when we know whose fault it is for failing the citizens of the USA?

This is basically what will happen
to the United States at this rate.

Is this like denounce? Deduce? Debuggers? De-bunkers?

This isn't rocket science, at least not until we figure out a way to strap all these fuckers to a rocket with a one-way-ticket to the sun, or Uranus! The latter is definitely preferred, since it's possible that anyone of us actually voted for these wind-bags.

Today also was physical therapy, which is a good time to examine words again.

What can we do with therapy? 

Well what about the therapist? 

The rapist, see therapist, more or less bent my knee back into natural positions, helping me on the long road to recovery, because the short road to recovery is beer aisle at Fred Meyer's.

In any case, just like anyone who encounters The rapists one will probably need a long hot shower to begin functioning enough for sleep. I know my knee definitely wants a shower after today. 

Fucking therapists and debt-ceiling.

No, I'm not talking about my daily-life, although the tag is there, 

but yes, those bastards ought to be fucked 

the way the citizens of the USA are being penetrated right now.

At least one of them managed to get progress today, and in all honesty my contempt for therapists is not all that bad. Today went well, and obviously I am open to going again, in spite of throbbing pain due to the processes.

It is said that everything that is born is born screaming, covered in blood, and in pain of some sort.
Just check out this one! I assure you, it's not about my sexual encounters with bizarre hookers with cheap pot.

2011年7月27日 Not feeling to great

The throbbing persists, and will for sometime. 

Among other things in life, there isn't much I can do.

Sometimes when I feel trouble in life I am reminded of a strategic survival technique that a survivor expert once said,

"Often the greatest issue for people who love to hunt, fish, and adventure in the wilderness is overconfidence. Many times hunters are found 3 days being lost in the woods and the first thing they'll say to the rescuers is "I'm not lost." 

The same pride that let them believe their compass was wrong, or that they could keep walking through the night to get out, lasts right until the end where there is no admission they were indeed lost. 

As one pushes the other to keep on moving when in fact the best thing to do is to stop, build a shelter, and spend the night." - Les Stroud, Survivorman

So far this quote, although only 6 months a rough six months in my brain, seems to work great as a reminder.
It is so easy to replace, "hunt and "fish" with other things that are more relevant to owns on needs. Of course then the rest of the dialog is the same, but in all honesty I believe this quote to be important within one's own lifestyle be it spiritual or the occasional visits to glory holes.

As I close these thoughts, I keep hearing a distant voice, barely able to compete with the thumping trance music, "THIS IS YOUR LIFE ENDING ONE MINUTE TO THE NEXT. YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL."

I can really only smile at this point.

2011年7月26日 Bandage removed

Although I do NOT like posting for a day that is already over.

I am posting for something I did during that day, and it is less than 24 hours since that time.

Today while visiting my doctor he informed me I can move about without gauze pads and ace bandage wraps on my knee.

The backside looks like this, and feels just as shitty.

I've had bruises in the past that have been pretty good in size, if not bigger, but not so diverse in this kind of color. The reason it is swollen is because there is a massive amount of blood still inside the knee, that eventually will work its way back into my system, according to the doctor. I can't just drain it, because it will fill back up, or so I'm told. At present I'm not bold enough to try proving them wrong. The worst part, isn't the bruising, but the swelling and pain accompanying such.

2011年7月24日 Drugs

If drugs are supposed to make us feel good, why do I feel like I'm a boat that whose haul was designed around making motion-sickness a common occurrence? Nausea and dizziness permeate my daily life.

Amy Winehouse died. I think in her memory we should change her name to "Drughouse" after a claim states that:

[...]Amy Winehouse's final hours emerged today, with claims that she bought a cocktail of narcotics including cocaine, ecstasy and ketamine.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2018126/Amy-Winehouse-bought-ecstasy-cocaine-ketamine-tragic-death.html#ixzz1T3TPHvQr

I'm always surprised about these kind of articles, because often they say something like, "Well even though she died using all these illegal things, what about the good things she did?" or "Look at her accomplishments she could have done so much!"

What about Hitler?

Seriously I'm not advocating Nazism, but let's examine the good things he did. When Hitler came into power state subsidized travel came into effect. Uh, the Auto-bahn anyone? I'm sure there is at least a quarter of a BILLION Muslims who would also claim that the killing 6 million Jews is a good thing, but personally I am not one of those Muslims (or a Muslim at all).

So coming back full circle to drugs. What's the connection?

This newly discovered video evidence [link] shows that Hitler clearly was manipulated by the destructive power of drugs.

I'm going to lie down.

2011年7月23日 Chills

Last night I had the chills. 

I believe it was because I took a weak shower and then put on an ice pack. I only slept for 2 hours, only to wake to find that I was still shaking. Worse the dream I had for those two hours was a mix of watching a live action version of Aqua Unit Patrol Squad 1 (think Aqua Teen Hunger Force), mixed with Breaking Bad, and this song replaying in my dreams nonstop. For some reason I kept thinking of crack cocaine and just regular blow for two hours straight with those horrible lyrics bouncing up in down in my head. With lyrics such as,  "It was acceptable in the eighties, it was acceptable at the time.....!" It's no wonder I kept thinking about crack cocaine and blow for 3 hours straight. 2 hours in the dream and 1 hour after I woke up. Even this morning. I'm wondering what the fuck really happened to me. 

The only thing that I would say that sucked more than the chills was the fact that when I shower I have to wrap my leg up in plastic bags and duct-tape. I end up feeling like a North Korean version of the Terminator. 

Eventually the chills did go away, because when I woke up I immediately took another shower/bath for about an hour. And also because of triple digits room temperature wise.

Fozzjnen stopped by with KFC's Honey BBQ Snackers after reading my post about food. 

I felt just as good as as the guy in the video below, and while most would consider this something they've seen, it's definitely worth watching again. 

If the video isn't enough for you, the 10 hour version can be a found here.

2011年7月21日 How many times?

How many times do I have to explain to people there is no cure for arthritis?

Worse, I often wonder about my own family's intelligence when I have to re-explain this and they forget there is no cure for such.

If I only had a brain!

No seriously, this actually happens with some people in my family.

In fact, the reason I'm talking about this now is because I just got off the phone with my brother whose commentary only provides me with free entertainment regarding this issue. 

At some point during the conversation about life and what not he says,

My brother: "See any new movies?"
Me: "No not really. Well actually I did see Black Death. It's about the Black Plague."
Brother: "Black Lake?"
Me: "No, Black Plague. It's about the Plague."
Brother: (Unintelligible-sounding question)
Me: "It's about the plague, like the disease."

Brother: "So it's about bible times?"

Me: "No, it takes place in the 1300s."

Yes, I am aware that the Black Death does deal with Christianity, heresy - my mom's side of the family, - and the like.

Anyway, I thought it was a good movie it reminded me of my experience traveling on I-5 southbound to L.A. from Portland.

2011年7月20日 Black and yellow

...[E]verything is tainted in
black, yellow...

When I exert myself at home I feel dizzy and sometimes nauseous. Why is this happening? It's not the drugs, since I've only taken Ibuprofen in the past 24 hours plus.

In the bathroom surveying the damage to my knee, I notice that the swelling is still on par with the cantaloupe I received from a former friend's mother when she came to visit me briefly. It was when I was wrapping back up when I saw the crimson and black blotches on the outside, and even further up the hind of the thigh. Yet the outside was more yellowish and purple. Attractively hideous. Rocking forward and back like a frustrated autistic-kid, I do my best to bounce my torso forward and back trying anything to avoid the pain. Sitting still does nothing.

Miserable, I realize there is nothing that can be done to quench the pain's thirst for conquest. As if my Goddamned knee is blokada Leningrada reincarnated! GFWI (i.e. JFGI, link). I'll win, but at a cost that sucks.

Throbbing is persistent, and periodically I have breaks, but none that are consistent enough to provide a measurable quality of sleep. Nothing is set in stone with pain, everything is on pain's terms. Patience is the first thing to get voided. After that, next are human characteristics which become tainted. Soon after that, smiling becomes a difficult task. Really the only thing left to do is anything that negates thought and effort, as the production of these things must come to an immediate end. Nothing must be done. Nothing must be thought of. Everything must be turned off. Everything has to be turned off before the pain can taint it. When everything is tainted in black, yellow, crimson, and purple blotches, one rarely wonders how much of it circulates back into the mind and heart.

But I wonder.
No one understands.
Sometimes I don't even get it myself.

This is no where near the worst news I have in life at this time.
If anything, it is a solemn reminder to laugh at my own misfortunes,
with some sort of sadistic-glee.
Only circumstances such as this could be so entertaining.

2011年7月19日 Depression and food.

To escape the depression, even momentarily, I get on the computer. It's really my only way to escape the blaring television and the crap that's playing on it, i.e. America's Got Talent.

These days there seems to be a shortage of good-news. And honestly I don't even think "good" is a word that really exists in my personal vocabulary, when in reference to my own life. Everything is "bad," "worse," and so forth. When it's not any of those, it's usually "not bad." Which does not mean "good".

For example:

Situation 1

A man leans over looking at his wife, "How was it when we did it for the first time?"

"Not bad." She says.

Situation 2

A man leans over and says to his wife, "How was it when we did it for the first time?"

"Good." She says.

Yes. KFC could make me feel better too.

Outside of this daily routine of annoying garbage. I often think about food, since I end up watching a lot of t.v., now that it's difficult to move around. Anyway, KFC came on the t.v. and immediately I was reminded of the supreme tastiness of a KFC Honey BBQ Snacker, with its "tender chunks of chicken, smothered in our tangy-sweet 

hickory-flavored 

Honey BBQ sauce."

And yet here I am locked to the house since I can only gimp around.

I suppose some of these days are not bad, but they're getting worse as I can see it and feel it.

2011年7月18日 Earthquake?

My head was unbelievably light-headed. 

For a good portion of today I felt as if an earthquake was happening, or that pre-earthquake dizzy sensation that occurs right before one. Except, instead of lasting for a few seconds, it lasted on and off for 6 hours solid.

No I didn't vomit, but I sure as hell wanted to.

I still feel kind of fucked, and now I'm wondering if I should even bother taking more medicine, or just wait until I absolutely need it. Next time, I'm not going to skip out on eating with this crap.

2011年7月17日 That doesn't help

"If I get up to get you something to eat, it's going to be the hamburger I made."

"I'll eat it only if it comes with lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion...."

Interrupting my train of thought,

"We don't have any lettuce or tomatoes."

"So basically you're telling me your idea of a hamburger is a piece of meat and bread? How the hell is that a hamburger?"

Hearing the unintelligible dialog from the kitchen, I ignore her and tell her,

"I don't want a hamburger."

She brings me some chili, which is nice, except for one thing: she put the hamburger patty IN the chili she severed me.

"What the fuck is this? I said 'No hamburger!'"

Blasphemy. No shit. 

I have never put a hamburger patty in my chili. 

In fact, I only eat my chili with crackers or bread. Chili dogs are another beast all together. 

Then she has the intelligence, or lack thereof, to tell me that maybe the hamburger patty will make the chili taste better. Uh no. Her hamburger meat is more or less bland, and in all sincerity is only acceptable with a full range of condiments at one's disposal.

Whatever I do, it won't be worse
than this picture.

I thought it was totally fair to flip out, since I have never ever done what she has done to chili. Maybe one of these days I should take a banana and put it in her cereal or cook her up some cold-ramen-noodles. 

That'll teach her. 

It's either that or taking a dump in her coco-puffs and telling her it's chocolate enhancer.

2011年7月16日 Post surgery

I don't feel anything except stiffness and pain. Having to elevate my leg above my head often is a tedious routine. Loss of mobility sucks. I have no idea when I'll be able to walk-fast, and I'm hoping it's soon. But hell, I don't even limp fast.

Yet I don't feel bad at all or even sorry for myself. The pain is not as dramatic as I thought it would be and I'm sure the drugs are helping, although surprisingly I do not take much. I'm sure it's because I'm keeping pressure on the knee to a minimum.

2011年7月13日 Party Liquor

This guy knows about party liquor

Yes it was purchased, and yes it is under the couch.
Yes, it's mine. And no, I am not going to leave it in the car.

I am not looking forward to problems with my knee. Losing mobility makes work difficult, if not impossible. I hope to skim off a couple of days from my recovery if I get bored staying at home. Losing mobility like this, is like losing out on life.

On the upside though, gold broke new records, which is just as amazing as Obama breaking all of his promises about total withdraw from Iraq. One of these two things is an actual surprise.

2011年7月12日 Nothing Special about .38s

Except when you're tap dancing with them!

Today I looked at revolvers, specifically those that could fire .38 +p rounds, if you don't know what it is, well too bad.

Today was kind of a straggler day. Nothing too dramatic. In fact, it went by so fast I don't even remember it. Just like the narrator on Fight Club vaguely remembers doing it with Marla. I've got to get better sleep these days. Somehow. Otherwise I'm going to posting Sammy Davis Jr more often. And that can't be too good.

2011年7月11日 Cooking sucks

I went to heat up a piece of hamburger patty that was left in the fridge.

Mistakes
No. 1  Using the microwave

Using the microwave literally turned my piece of what could have been beef, into a hot piece of unknown matter. Hot in the sense that I did not wait for the end of the cook time to fully finish (i.e. 120 seconds).

No. 2 Actually eating it

Holy crap. Have you ever wondered why old people look like they're chewing on something which ends up turning out to be nothing? Well, probably about one-third of them were chewing on this piece of meat's cousin, or uncle, or maybe even ex-wife.

In the end it wasn't too problematic, I'm sure there is some protein left...
Thank God I cut to pieces. Bits and pieces.

I'm sure it could have been worse... Much worse.

2011年7月10日 Spicy

The other night I decided that in lieu of frying up jalapenos like I normally do, I would add serrano peppers to the mix. This is a good and bad idea.

First of all, I removed the seeds, then I cut the peppers into elongated strips. I also added red onion, green onion, green bell pepper, and some carrots. I did not expect the reaction I had when I started eating. The result of the ingredients was fried fruits and vegetables. Yes, peppers are fruits.

The first bite went down no problem, but it was quite spicy. At first I was kind of shocked. I consider myself to be a fan of spicy food and pretty good handling it, but I noticed something strange as the second bite entered my mouth. I didn't even have to swallow as my body revolted against me. The muscle spasm I had went from head to toes, and felt no different than a horse rearing a bad rider. I didn't feel like vomiting, but I could tell my brain shut off everything but my legs. I couldn't even reach for me. The brain was running anti-spicy-food-software and wouldn't allow me to even motion for more. I went into the kitchen to have some milk, but the process to neutralize the burning sensation was literally no different emotionally than this video. My stomach felt consumed by magma for about 5 minutes solid.

This is what happens when people eat really spicy peppers.

I was able to finish it this morning and later in the evening, but I chopped up the peppers into bits and little pieces mixing it with rice. It was much better this way, albeit still lava-esque.

Just like Rambo, I will do it again if I have to.

2011年7月9日 "Hi. I'm your knee!"

Swelling was somewhat expected albeit frustrating. Not much pain this time, but it could be endorphins. I put on about 4 miles (6.44 km) on the exercise bike on a medium/moderate level difficulty, and for the first 2 miles (3.2km) I wore my ALICE web-gear, which roughly weighs 24-26 pounds (11-12 kg). Then I did about 10 push ups with ALICE on and realized it is extremely difficult, since I was doing it slow going down and up. About half way to a third of the way through I became a pus-cake and ended up doing girl push-ups, at the same speed with the gear still on.

I challenge anyone able to do such to add weight to their push up routine, and then move slower. And consistently do such as part of their workout routine.

I will probably feel my knee later this evening. Such is a life with PVNS. I'm hoping to get a good workout routine at some point. Ideally as soon as possible after my recovery from surgery and as part of my PT for my knee. Until I recover enough to walk, I will be just as useful as Private Pyle, as seen in this clip.

Yee-haw....

2011 年7月8日 "How's progress?"

He said, as I rubbed my temples on my head with one hand. 

I hated this kind of work, and I hated that this is the most common request for work in this field. Naturally I'm good at it, and naturally I have no desire to prove any of my findings to him, even though I am usually right regardless.

The proposition he offered was easy: assess a situation involving money and the probable connection of mystery woman X. Usually involving a woman who I would never personally "X with" under no circumstances. The man's cowardice to select me was no surprise, nor did it bother me that he was paying. Yet there was no real excitement when dealing with these kinds of situations. There was nothing I could learn. And honestly even with total disregard for caution and safety, the case, if you can even call it that, could be solved with reasonable ease.

But dealing with the women. That's another story. I've never been any good with women, so I usually follow the money grudgingly. The former rarely surprises me, and almost always disappoints. One of the key elements in investigating people, especially women, is assessing the true nature of a person. 

For one, most people are extremely selfish, and those who appear in such a way are concealing it for posterity. Two, vanity from pride reveals weakness almost immediately, unless concealed through a complex structure via one. And three, people are never honest because they do not want to compromise the prior two.

That's why disappointment is almost natural for me. I should have known when I was younger that this kind of work generally deals with most people. And while I've had less than I can count on one hand, Satan himself bestowed upon me with the knowledge and experience of having the other people. Even if I tried not to romanticize this feeling, I know I am right when I say this bestowed blessing is actually a curse, for which I sparingly tolerate; moreover, it doesn't really matter who gave such to me. Yet this feeling of the past lingers. It always lingers, like a ghost that not only accommodates fear, but represents an extreme amount of annoyance. Not even the sirens of the police every two hours from my office window can remove the memories of the other people.

Looking over complied paperwork and gesturing the man to sit, I poured the rest of  General Grant's favorite bourbon into two tumblers. Mulling over the details with my eyes, I thought about what I do for men like him. I watched him trying conceal his discomfort with the cheapness of my prescribed liquor.

Briefly I thought deep enough to forget about him for a moment. I hate being right, or rather I hate being unable to change anything but sincerity of truth.

2011年7月7日 Uh. What did you today?

Today I spent a good portion of the afternoon sleeping.

I feel like a goddamned cat. 

Sleep during the day, and up all night.

The mental numbness in itself is somewhat promising though. 

When I wake up I'm alert, but intellectually not so much. 

It works out in the end.

It feels like I left part of myself in the dreams I woke up from.

Maybe I'll have a coke.

2011年7月6日 Fozzjnen and driving

Nothing special happened today other than taking Fozzjnen to the airport, selling 7.62x39 and mags, and just general driving around while blasting gangsta rap.

What I expect to happen every time
the police drive by my ghetto machine.

The coolest part about the sub-woofer is that it literally vibrated my rear-view mirror until it was loose. So far the bass does a good job, and thankfully I don't feel any pain from its awesomeness. 

Speaking of the subwoofer's awesomeness. A motorcycle cop pulled up behind me earlier today in Hillsboro. He got pretty close actually. Immediately I put on N.W.A's Fuck the Police, and I'm pretty sure he heard it. 

Eventually the biker cop sped away, and I finished the song.

Nothing dramatic happened, but then again nothing should happen.

Maybe I'll blast this next time.

2011年7月5日 Happy 5th of July, a.k.a "Welcome back to reality."

I had a quaint girl come to me to work today, and she asked for my address after I described how I'm going to have surgery. Apparently she wants to write me. I gave her my address without thinking anything about it, since she did not appear to be a major threat to me physically or emotionally. Surprisingly she volunteered her own to me, which I put on a sticky note, then covered with some papers.

She comes into my lab to chat briefly with me sometimes, and usually it is very very brief (3-7 minutes). She doesn't wear any make-up that I can notice, and she seems quiet for the most part.

This day however she asked me about my age, and what not. She doesn't even look like it, but she's 31. Yikes, for both the good and bad way. I thought she was around 22. She said I did not look or really act my age, the latter being a good thing. I dress and talk relatively maturely, but obviously she hasn't read this blog.

So, she comes back into the lab later (maybe an hour, I don't know), and says,

 "Can I ask you a quick question?"

"Sure"

"Do you drink?"

"Yes I do."

"Then can I have my address back? And... I'll erase yours."

Then she walked off to use a computer.

At first I was kind of shocked, for about .0009 seconds, then I realized what kind of person I'm dealing with. In all sincerity I'm happy it turned out that way. I'm not glad because I don't have to deal with it, rather I'm glad because someone actually has the discipline to address these issues as such. Instead of wasting my time, she was to the point; and moreover, there is a degree of discipline maintaining one's own values without disrespecting another person. 

She didn't seem like a dick about it at all, and I wasn't offended.

Of course there wasn't anything for me to be offended about, outside of the wonderful reminder of being welcomed back to reality after a 3 day weekend of listlessness and a barbecue.

2011年7月4日 Monday Morning Coming Down

Fuck that familiar harmonica. It reminds me of Chaka Khan for some reason. Among other things, I can't even believe the temperature drop. When I left the house it was still around 73 degrees or so. Now it's around the low end of 50. My seco-- third consecutive cup of coffee, not that I am counting anyhow, seems to be kicking in. It's either kicking in or it's the goddamn lyrics that are causing my hands to shake a little bit. I usually blame it on the shitty music.

I'll never find another girl like you,

We're fire and ice, the dream won't come true

I don't have to put up with this shit.

But I did. I did put up with it. Well, until the coffee-shop radio started playing Macy Gray's I Try, then I got up and left. Outside of a small congregation of young terrorist-looking men, and a couple inside working on a laptop together, there wasn't much action going on here. I guess it's fair to say it's empty here. It should be as it was around 0255 or so. I yawned a bit and stood up from my outside table. My shake-like spasms didn't cease as I walked to the car.

It was another driving night. More rubber, more road, more coffee, and caffeine. More solitude, more emptiness. I made it an extra point tonight to drive a little more deliberately in the areas I was fond of. I noticed something curious that I tend to miss on the rainy-overcast nights, it was the breath of the trees. Almost a wet-mossy-kind-of-smell and taste. Driving through a forest late at night, on a cool summer night like today, you can taste it. I could taste it, until the smell of a dead possum or squirrel made me cringe, but even then at least it wasn't exhaust or homeless people. Sometimes roadkill smells reasonably better than the filthy smell of sweat, shit, and contraband drugs of the homeless or proletarians. But I didn't even bother to think about that deeply as I drove on my "route".

Another road that's poorly lighted.

I pushed a button on the radio, turned the dial, slowed down, and focused to the simple guitar and wholesome lyrics:

Well, I woke up Sunday morning 

With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. 

And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, 

So I had one more for dessert. 

Wholesome? No it wasn't. But it was something I enjoyed, as I shared the goat-roping music with the dead on my left. Once again I drove past the cemetery for those goddamned Catholics. For some reason I ruined the song I was trying to enjoy as I thought about how much I disliked Italian Catholics. Since they have similar looking noses, I always looked at Italians at being stupid versions of Jews. Fortunately for me and I guess for the Jews too: I like the Jews, regardless of their intelligence, but no way in hell am I going to trust a guido-wopper. Those people are just as bad as the Portuguese or Colombians, which basically means we can't trust our women with them.

When I left the poorly lighted neighborhood and cemetery, I pulled onto the highway since too much was running through my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about these things, so I figured it may be best to avoid it all. I skipped about 15 tracks or more, until I found something suitable for the empty road. The shaking stopped a bit, but my mind wandered towards truth again. 

Truth. True. Fact. 

Lie, false, fiction.

Snap! Another familiar sound, and it's not a harmonica! Is this the forth? Or Second? What number am I even  on? I don't really care. How can I? I peeled the tab back after opening the tall-boy can of rocket-fuel. I feel tired no matter how much of this shit I drink. It doesn't really matter, as long as it has caffeine and doesn't taste like pig urine after it drinks from a pool of goat/homeless-naked-man vomit (Mountain Dew Code Red). Fuck this. I can't concentrate. I'm going home.

When I got out of the car I was slightly refreshed, but tired. I accomplished nothing, other than spending five dollars on drinks that only kept me awake for an hour or so, and made me piss more than I would have liked to. The only thing I learned was nothing I did not already know. 

Once again driving only provided me with the false sense of solace and tranquility. But tonight, I couldn't cease wondering about it. Wondering about things that are true. Wondering about things that are lies, and the reality of it, or the truth of lies existing.

"It's a fucking shame it's
not Miller time right now."

Pissing in the toilet, I lost any ability or desire to continue concentrating on these issues. I felt empowered, as I almost and literally, was piss-away my problems. It's a fucking shame it's not Miller time right now.

2011年7月4日 "I'm a good fuckin' marine."

Today is Independence Day.

This video easily sums up the coherent viciousness of our armed forces, who made the existence of this country possible. 

That, and baseball.

Works best if you turn your speakers up (↑).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgcpZ0bNBGA

(You may need a YouTube account to view it)

Happy Independence Day

2011年7月2日 At work

"I'm at the will of the Germans, which is not that bad." She said.

My mind immediately exploded to Dachau, where in lieu of pissed off Hungarian SS, I saw a bunch of clowns passing out cookies and milk to those proceeding to the chambers.

And all the clowns
looked like this guy.

No it can't be that bad.
Can it?

More or less I'm left with neither knowing how bad the will of the Germans is for anyone subject to it. The only thing that I know at this point, is what I've been repeating since I first heard it about 10 years ago:

"Next time there is a world war, the loser gets to keep France." And all their cheese-eatin'-smoking-monkey-people too!