17.3.03

how can pbs piss me off?

by airing a two hour or more (i missed the beginning) documentary on the history of the iraqi conflict that could have been written by a republikkkan igno-mancer (let's translate that to spin doctor speech writer secretary of state), that's how (isn't my command of proper sentence structure staggering!?).

i really need to kick my news habit. i watch or listen to approximately five hours every day. most days i have a mild rage at the state of world affairs bubbling in my stomach. this is interspersed with periods of volcanic eructations of molten spleen at hearing the latest news about the war, or the president, or the economy, or john goddamned ashcroft. by that i mean i yell at the radio a lot. also the tv. and ... the laptop. i'm so ashamed.

i promised myself i wouldn't post my anti-government rants on the web anymore, so i'll stop now, but let me just add this...




THERE IS AN AGENDA BEING ENACTED UPON YOU AT ALL TIMES. BILL GATES IS IN ON IT. MICHAEL EISNER IS IN ON IT. MICK JAGGER IS IN ON IT. SO ARE RAY ROMANO, AUGUST A BUSCH III, JESSE VENTURA, AND THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR.
YOUR LIFE IS YOUR OWN, AND THE GOVERNMENT ONLY PROTECTS YOU FROM OTHER GOVERNMENTS.

MY throat is pretty sore now. can't believe this old soapbox held my weight.

15.3.03

i can't believe i got a mention on the new topography (see link to left... imbedding one takes time for a computer illiterate cro-magnon like myself).

i hope that the new topographer feels better soon. she's so hella hella cool, it's like icyhot.

i can't believe it's not butt. if there hasn't been a pornographic film with that title, i'll eat your hat. you'll need to mail it to me.

a new delivery driver has been hired. his name is andre. he seems pretty cool. i gave him an altoid tangerine sour and he looked at me as though i'd told him legos were candy corn.

i hope i'm not the only one who used to have candy corn fights the day after halloween. not fighting over, but with, for those who didn't.

surprise, surprise, sur-motherfucking-prise. i'm pretty sure i invented that. if anyone can prove otherwise, i'm expecting a call, or maybe just a bullet to the back of the head.

4.3.03

well, my pot-smoking friend (and technically, subordinate) got fired today. i really hate losing people that i like to work with, especially for stupid reasons like failing a drug screen.
rich people really creep me out. i had to deliver to the st. louis club today, and it was like a fucking high-rise crypt. i had to check in with security. i also had to find the fucking place, which occupies the top three floors of an office building across the street from where suzi, the new topographer, tigra, jordan, and i all used to work. to think, they were so close, but i never knew. that explains the frequent chills i got in the hot ass kitchen.
or maybe that was all the heroin.