Merry Xmas

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Oh, it's that happ happ happy time of year again. Time for the assault by the quasi-christians on us heathens, and the town looks just lovely with its liberal (you should forgive the expression) dose of electric crucifixes in highly visible locations. That's right folks. Crucifixes bedecked with jolly Christmas lights! What's that, you say? An instrument of torture and death is an inappropriate symbol to decorate for a festive holiday season? What are you? Some kind of commie bastard? Jesus DIED for you, you ungrateful socialist Jew! What do you mean, Christmas is supposed to celebrate his birth? Stop attacking my religion you left-wing piece of shit! Merry Christmas, and I'll see you in hell!

This made me feel better about the whole thing, so I pasted it here to love and cherish forever!

Religious Beliefs of the World

Buddhism - Crap Happens
Hare Krishna - Crap Happens, Rama Rama Ding Dong
Hinduism - This Crap Happened Before
Islam - Crap Happens Whenever I Blow Myself Up
Sufi - When Crap Happens Spin Around Till You're Dizzy
Zen - What Is The Sound Of Crap Happening?
Taoism - When Crap Happens... Is It Really Crap?
Confucianism - Confucius Say " Crap Happens"
Jain - Holy Crap It's Alive!
7th Day Adventist - Crap Happens On Saturdays
Protestantism - Crap Happens Because You're Lazy
Catholicism - Crap Happens And You Deserve It
Jehovah's Witness - Knock Knock, "Crap Happens"
Unitarian - Whoa! What's This Crap???
Mormon - We Have Records Of All This Crap Happening
Judaism - Why Does This Crap Always Happen To Me?
Rastafarianism - Hey, Lets Smoke This Crap
Evangelism - Crap Is Going To Happen, Big Time, Very Soon
Pentecostal - Every Time Crap Happens Start Babbling
Shamanism - This Crap Didn't Happen Before Columbus
Amish - Crap Happens Whenever We Drive Anywhere
Agnosticism - Are You Sure About This Crap?
Atheism - I Don't Believe This Crap Is Happening!

Next Stop, The Twlight Zone...

Oh my gawd, oh my gawd, I gotta tell you! Tonight my co-worker informed me that Obama is going to repeal the second amendment! That's right! All them Democrats want to do is raise yer taxes and take away yer guns. She saw it on the T.V., so's it MUST be TRUE! I asked her if it was perhaps FOX NEWS she learned that from, and she said no, she couldn't rightly remember which program it was, but that's what they said!

OK, that was a little unfair. She doesn't have an Okie accent. But that IS what she told me. And in all fairness, she might not have hallucinated it after too much moonshine. I don't know. I don't even HAVE T.V. reception. Thank gawd. Anyway, I tried to reassure her that even if Obama DID want to do that, he'd still need a whole bunch of States to ratify it and that would just be ASKING for all hell to break loose, and he's got enough of a mess to clean up already, so just chill out and don't worry, and if it turns out that such a thing does happen, I'll meet her on the ridge with my 12 gauge, 30-30, .22 semi and my .38 snub nose and we'll fight 'em off together! LIVE FREE OR DIE TRYING!

That little episode got me to thinking that paranoia is a two way street that hasn't been repaved in years, and we're all driving over the fog line. It's OK Timmy, they're just as afraid of us as we are of them. Except they're holding guns. Very tightly. And they're angry. Ah, I wonder if a little flower power could help? Never mind, let's just keep a low profile and see what happens next.

Let the good times roll

Our long national nightmare is over. Let the healing begin. I gotta admit, I NEVER thought this would happen. I feel a little like Neo waking up in his pod filled with goo. This here shit is mighty surreal. I know; how could anyone believe that anyone anywhere could vote for a pathetic joke of a ticket like McCain/Palin. Well let me tell you brother, I live deep in Bush country, and the "Keep Amerika Strong, Vote Republican" signs are pretty much the ONLY campaign signs one sees here abouts. I also vividly remember the last two elections, so forgive me if I just can't believe what has happened today.

Tonight, more than ever, I think I might be going insane. Because I just can't help feeling that everything is rigged. Don't get me wrong, I want to believe. I want to hope. Damn it man, I WANT TO BE PERKY! But it just isn't in my nature. My nature is to doubt and distrust and wait for the boot to be put in. My generation was subjected to A-Bomb drills in school, saw two Kennedys and a King shot to death, sat helpless as Ford pardoned Nixon, lost John Lennon to an assassin, were downgraded from "personnel" to "resources" to "human capitol" and oh shit, the Reagan-Bush-Clinton-Bush years! Well, I'm still not sure how I feel about the Clinton years.

Oh, it's been a long strange ride, and it ain't over yet. However, I am prepared to allow myself the luxury of enjoying some small guarded optimism, even though, judging by the reaction of my co-workers tonight, the whole global warming situation could be exacerbated by the heat of numerous crosses burning tonight.

Well, no matter what happens from here out, I voted for the lesser evil (at least I hope he was the lesser evil) and he won, so I can't complain. Well, yes I can. And I will.

The Middle of the End?

Well it's finally the first Tuesday of November, and it all might be over soon. Will McCain be victorious and perhaps croak in a few short months to leave us with the first President who is both unqualified AND a woman? Or will Obama win, and...oh why bother. I doubt he ever had a snowball's chance. I have been trying REALLY hard not to indulge in any paranoid conspiracy theories, but the only reason I can see for even allowing Obama to enter the race was to incite a lot of people to riot when he looses. Now THAT might give 'em the excuse they needed to institute martial law. But there I go on my flights of fancy again. I mean after all, this is the United States of Amnesia , the land of the apathetic. Doses ANYBODY riot here anymore? Personally, I am SO exhausted from waiting for that big poop burger to hit the wind machine I don't think I could stay up late enough to participate. Anyway, I did my part and voted for Obama, TWICE! Ho ho. I'll say one thing about these troubled times, Dan Quayle doesn't look as bad as he used to. And with that thought, I think I'll go soak in a hot tub with a sharp razor.

My Dream Obituary

I have always ascribed to the old saying, "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself". Therefore I have taken it upon myself to pen my obituary now, so I won't have to worry about it when I'm dead. Here is the first draft, which awaits further details. The names have been omitted to protect me, because after all, I'm not dead YET.

**** *********, or **** as she was sometimes called by whiny people who wanted something, went to be with Groucho on ********, 20**, after a long and painful battle with life. She is preceded in death by practically everyone in her gene pool, except possibly her sisters, it's difficult to tell. Oh and maybe her husband. Hold a mirror under his nose. She is survived by a daughter, who is single, by the way, and a son, wherever he is. If she had had a life, it should have gone something like this...

She stood trembling in the morning mist, the dew clinging to the hem of her gossamer night gown. Dimly visible through the damp fog was the manly outline of a masculine figure striding powerfully toward her in the faint light of dawn. Suddenly, there he was, looming hugely before her, his immense mussels rippling across his massive chest, his golden hair gently swaying in the light breeze. Passionately, he crushed her heaving bosom to his throbbing pectorals. "Oh, take me now, you love beast!" she murmured breathlessly.

Instead, she was born in 1955 in Alhambra California at a small hospital which was later torn down to make space for a mini mall, and lived in Southern California for 39 years, except for a brief period in 1961 when she lived in Tucson Arizona, but still didn't get to be a cowboy. During the 1970's when girls were finally allowed to wear pants, she discovered she was in fact a gay man trapped in a fat spotty girl's body, but chose not to use this as an excuse to become a serial killer, like some of the big babies she went to school with. On New Years Eve, 1982, she met her husband to be at a bar referred to by the locals as "Scotty's Scrounge Lounge" where she was fascinated by his tattoos. Mutual need induced them to marry and spawn. Against all odds and common sense the marriage endured. In 1994 she and her little family joined the "White Flight" movement, but became confused and moved to Mississippi, then turned around and came to Oregon on the advice of an ex-friend. Once in Oregon, she achieved her life long dream of owning five acres to homestead, but sadly never had the time to do so, needing instead to work so as to pay for the damn thing. And of all places to work, she ended up doing time in Ingram Book Company. But she never regretted her "Dime at the I", as she was exposed to many great books she might never have known of otherwise. It was there she discovered Buddhism, and at wholesale prices!

After being used up and discarded like the exhausted "resource" Corporate America has reduced the workers of this benighted country to, she finally got that "job with a chair" she was always sniveling about wanting, only to discover something new to complain about: "Ow, sitting all day makes my back hurt." Boo Hoo. That woman would bitch if you hung her with a new rope. And the chair even had wheels!

So what was the point of being alive anyway? In the final analysis, when asked by the voices in her head if it was all worth it, she would reply, "Is there beer?" If the answer is yes, then it was.

Services to be held at the Camas Valley Transfer Site. In lieu of flowers, please place a flaming bag of poop on the doorstep of anyone with a McCain/Palin poster on their property.

Where can I get a life cheap?

I am having way too much fun. I've stayed up 'till dawn every night this week playing on the old computer. But one has to stay busy to stave off depression. If you stop and think, that's when it gets ya. So I'm making a list of things to occupy me in my tragically childless state.

Retarded Ideas to Keep Busy with.

1) Clean the House. Yeah, sure. Like fourteen years of neglect can EVER be reversed. Also, the floor around the sink is caving in. Maybe I should just start digging a cave into the side of the hill.

2) Cut your hair, just a little at a time everyday until you look like someone who shouldn't have been left unsupervised at recess. See if anyone at work will mention it.

3) Write a musical about Temps cleaning up at the sight of a tragic accident involving an elderly driver plowing through the annual Garment Inspector's picnic. Title it "Look Through the Union Corpses".

4) Write your own obituary. If there is one thing I enjoy, it's reading about dead people, but some of their obits are deadly dull. I want readers to be entertained by the actual notice, not just the fact of my death.

Well, that should keep me busy for a while!