Friday, December 31, 2004

self historic memories are for the used-to-be's and the tired

room for wait

The thing about waiting rooms is that really there are only three types of news you get in there, either good news, bad news or news that there will be more waiting. Waiting for one of the first two kinds of news.



See ya in the new year.

Thanks for reading me because there really are more enjoyable things you could be doing. I owe you one.

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Hello, my little friend

So, I've been missing my x-acto, the one at the second office, the one at home and the one at the other office have known locations. I've been missing it for about two months which has made cutting stuff a pain in the ass. Anyway, today I reach for a pencil from the mug where I keep my pencils and there is my x-acto, point up. I don't know it you have every been poked or cut by an x-acto but it ain't much fun. Fortunatly, I got neither poked nor cut.

The cleaning lady must have put it there one day when I left it on my desk. Cleaning ladys should not touch stuff on top of the desk is what I think.

Anyway, I'm glad to have it back in the know.

And if I end the year on this post. I should be shot.

Er, maybe just dope slapped.

Boot Cut Jeans

It’s tough to change your core

You can change your job

your friends

your residence

your family - maybe even - to some extent - with marriage, I guess

you can insulate yourself from the world

you can live inside a pumpkin shell and from inside there, try to live very well

There have been times when I thought my past was catching up to me but it was just myself seeping through

Anyway, I appreciate you

Another slow news day. Well, here at least

I’m hanging around this guy’s house for business reasons, the guy is probably in his early eighties. He asks if he knows me. I let him know I am not familiar with him, even though I grew up six blocks from his house, as a kid I rarely went farther than a block or two other than for school.

He asks for my last name. I tell him.

He asks “Do you know a Sy?”

I answer “I don’t.”

But he insists he knows me. I tell him I grew up around here but he indicates that’s not it. I tell him the name of my father but that’s not it either. I start to get a little annoyed because the guy is so convinced that he knows me and I’m certain that he doesn’t. So the memory searching continues.

I tell him the name of my grandfather, who died before I was born. My grandfather’s name was Lyman. He says “Hmm, that’s Sy.”

How the heck was I supposed to know?

I asked my dad about it and he said they did called his dad Sy, although he didn’t know why.

My grandfather used to carry heat. He used to make bank deposits for a liquor store so the cops let him get a permit to carry. So, he carried.


My last day of work this year is today.

I left one of my four personal days unused. I feel like some rookie for doing that.

Another year, I haven't called in sick, nine years in a row. I'll get a week's pay for that by trading unused sick days. I've earned 105 hours this year which brings my total to 487.7

I worked 15.5 hours worth of overtime. I could have worked much more.

I used 56 hours of vacation time of the 126 I had available.

I've spent 528 dollars on public transportation.


Lady G is taking the train to New York today. She'll take the 6PM train back.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004


the trouble with having the reputation of being able to get shit done is that folks expect you to be able to get shit done.

Come on now, can't you go bother the nose picker with this request?

If you can

He comes over and starts with current events and picks Iraq.

I’m bored so I play along.

He thinks he is good at debating the issues. I think he is not.

The bullshit that ensued from henceforth is not important but I did make mention that people need to be ready for liberty and some people aren’t ready for it.

People have to be taught to speak up, taught to think, taught to be free.

...I think the US might need a refresher course.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

How I blog

I don’t even know if what I do is blogging or not.

The thing of it is – I don’t really care.

I’ve read there is a difference between things and such - blogs, journals, diaries.

I don’t really care about that either.

How I blog – I write whatever the heck I want, however I want but I do have a couple things I keep in mind.

I try to post almost every day just so folks know that I’m alive. I usually don’t post on Saturdays, it’s just the luck of the draw. I’m usually only near a dialup connection on Saturdays, so I forego the posting.

I try to keep things short. This is because I have little entertainment value. Also, I don’t want to have to read a bunch of my own stuff when on the rare occasion I reread myself.

My type is kinda small so it don’t look like a lot of words (sometimes I use poor English). I figure folks say “I can trudge through that, it’s short.” That’s why I over comma and over paragraph, too – break things up into small portions, it’s easier to choke down.

When I do think I have a decent post going, I keep things vague. I think when things are vague, the reader gets to fill in some blanks on their own, they personalize it. I, in effect, have the reader write some of the story. I’ve read vague stuff and wondered ‘what the heck does that mean,’ then go away think about what it means, come back, see if my thoughts could be correct and wonder ‘is that what that really means’ usually it some profound stuff I’ve thought up about it but who really knows. So, if you think anything on this site is interesting it’s probably your own fault. And thanks.

Sometimes I don’t know where I’m going with a story or end up at a different place than what I was thinking but I’ll post it anyway. I’ve gotten comments on posts I was going to throw away, so I really don’t know what is good and what is not. I’ve posted stuff I thought was crap just because I spent a couple moments typing it and didn’t want all the searching and pecking to go down the drain.

I’m contrary to some of the advice I’ve read about blogging, but then my agenda most likely differs from theirs. I blog with the advice I heard Jack LaLanne say once in an interview when someone told him “I want to be just like you” Jack said, almost like a plea, “No! You be you.” So that’s what whoever reads this site gets stuck with, me being me. Well, for the most part.

I actually have no other choice because my fiction sucks.

Oh Yeah? Bleat This!

So, I’m at the second job. I strolled in at six fifty or so and find the owner sitting at her desk looking over the numbers.

I said “Hi.” She said “Oh, hi Tim.” Then I went to my upstairs office to start my work like I usually do which is running by blogs.

I’m still doing this when she comes up the stairs to get a check written for an insurance bill.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m writing the check.”

“Right now?”


“Oh, let me see how you do it.”

So I reduce my browser window which is usually the case and start running QuickBooks. She sees the numbers for the first time ever, as I see them – on the screen. I explain that the bottom line isn’t the actual bottom line because a check was written early and also she herself took some checks and wrote them by hand and I haven’t entered them yet because I’m punishing them for not being computer generated. They have to wait on me.

I actually only told her “I didn’t enter those checks yet.”

I print out the insurance check. Job well done.

I’ve been keeping the books for the past forever on QuickBooks through several version upgrades, so today was a big day.

yeah, this post blows. Why change now?

Sure beats pulling a loved one’s lifeless body from the mud.

I found this earlier looking for something else.

goat sex

I would tell you how I came across it but I think it's better if you make up your own jokes.

one in a thousand times four

I read a headline today

"11 US citizens killed in tsunamis"

that's one quarter of one tenth of one percent of the 44,000 killed

or 0.025%

or 1 in 4,000

Monday, December 27, 2004

sorry, key key

Next you’ll get a washboard.


I am sort of m.i.a. it happens from time to time I just go through the motions until something kicks in.


My niece was running about and sees the cat sitting on one of the kitchen chairs so she puts her face right into the cat’s face and shouts “Hi, Key-Key” (the cat’s name is Tequila but he’s called Key-Key for short) anyway, the cat doesn’t like getting shouted at so he flinches. He flinched the first few time she did this, she would run into the kitchen from the living room and shout “Hi, Key-Key.” I told her that she’s scaring the cat so she continued with the running, the shouting and the repetitiveness but she changed he message to “Sorry, Key-Key.”

The cat wasn’t digging her apology.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

I'm unholey

So, I’ve been away from my high speed internet connections and kicking it old school with the dial-up. I remember thinking a couple of time “I’ll post something once I get to one of my high speed machines,” well, here I am and I’ve got nothing to say.

I went to breakfast with Lady G and her family: her mom, stepdad, nieces and kids were there. During one conversation she turns to me and asks “Did you ever get your ears pierced?” I replied “No, I stopped after I got my nipple pierced” which was my attempt to say something surprising but I was out done when she said “Yeah, I’ve only had my clit done.”

(I have no piercings, her - just her ears, by the way)

My mom got me a squeezebox as a gift

D40 Concertina

Folk musicians have favored concertinas since the mid-1800s for their low cost, portability and superior sound. Compared with other concertinas, you'll find Hohner's has a brighter sound and smoother tone. The D40 comes with the Concertina Gig Bag at no additional cost.

Style: Anglo-German Diatonic
Buttons: 20
Reeds: 40
Key Combination: CG
Color: Mahogany Ends
Weight: 3 lbs.
Size: 8" wide by 8.5" high

MSRP $249.50

Thanks mom.

Friday, December 24, 2004

100 proof

“What do you want for Christmas?”

“I want you to prove your love for me.”

There was a downward glance before the reply.

“I shouldn’t have to prove my love to you.”

“You’re right and you won’t be, I already know. You’ll be proving it to yourself.”

Thursday, December 23, 2004

twenty bucks for what some most dream of

So, I got Anti’s Blook in the mail today, the precise day I was told. I thought I might get it earlier than expected but that didn’t happen. It seemed like forever, the wait, that is, but once you get over the need to have it today it’s a nice surprise in the mail, when it does come - right on the time.

At first I had no interest in getting his blook because why buy what you can get for free and when I first found out about it, I thought I would take a pass and I did but then I got an email which basically said maybe you were waiting for an invite to buy the blook so consider this an invite.

And do you know what, I think I’ve only sent Anti one email so either he saved my email address from that one email or he made an effort to look for it. And he even disagreed with the email I sent him but that didn’t stop him from sending me an invite to buy his blook. And that’s respectable.

Anyway, why buy what I can get for free? Well you have to read it off the computer screen and any reader knows reading off a screen sucks. It’s not the same as feeling the paper between your fingers or that sense of progress with every turn of the page or the permanence of holding an actual bond copy in your hands.

Anti wrote a book free to the world but for most it is as fleeting as static over a telephone line, but me, I got me a hardcopy. And what is best about it is Anti’s just like you or me whether you have a blog or not, true he maybe a better writer and a more popular blogger but dude sat down and wrote and then he set what he wrote to paper and ink which can nearly last forever. His face is on the back of published book! And that is the coolest even if only a few copies exist.

“Some of the entries are fictional and some are based on reality. But all of this is my life, it is my story to tell, and I hope you find it as amusing as I do.” - Anti


I’m watching the movie The Swimming Pool and someone starts lighting a joint and I say “That’s the best looking joint I have even seen” and the response I get is “You notice the weirdest things.”

I’m just saying if I was the director I would have said I want a joint that looks more like a joint and less like an unfiltered Camel. I would have gone to the prop guy and said “Listen, if you can’t roll a fake joint to make it look like a real joint then have one of the grips do it.”

Because everyone knows all the grips are stoners.

There was also a scene where the main character, an author, got an idea to use a supporting character as a subject for her fiction and she makes a folder on her laptop and called it Julie which was the other character's name. So I stated a real author wouldn't use Julie, a real author would make up a phoney name. I futher said that I would have had her type Julie but then erase it and type something else in just so the viewers would know what's going on. And then I would have had the main character do one of these and I did an 'I am thinking' chin stroke. The person I was talking to just rolled their eyes at me.

There was this time I had to be discreet, I had to hang around someplace at certain times during the day and take notes. It’s hard to do all three of those at once because a dude hanging around taking notes at set intervals, usually gets noticed. So, I would smoke a cigarette even though I don’t smoke but the cigarette I chose was Camel unfiltered. I figured it I was going to risk lung caner for my craft I was going to do it like a man.

I also had a micro cassette recorder going so I was smoking and talking to myself which in my neck of the woods goes unnoticed day after day.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Brave and sometimes stupid

So, folks have been invading my space, kinda just hanging about. Finding things to do that need to be done in my vicinity.

There was some work place violence in my unit. Now everyone is concerned. It’s too late now fella’s, you should have been here two weeks ago, or the week before that or anytime in the past two and a half years.

Someone asks what about reducing stress, the answer is stress can be treated.

Why cure the disease when you can treat the symptom?

It happened last Thursday, now my four man unit is down to two.

I heard the opposite of being scared is being angry, anger makes you brave.

Brave and sometimes stupid.

Who writes this stuff?

someone searched for kadzook which is actually an exclamatory I use and my site came up but I don't think I used it that day

anyway this post was below it.

sometimes my thinks go thunk...


I do actually say things like:

Holy Cow
Oh My Gosh

Kadzooks (edit - added)
Egads - usually followed by 'man' (edit - added)

There are a couple other hillbillyish ones I say too but they escape me at the moment.


“I said what?” I asked.

“You said I really don’t mind guests using the bathroom as is I just don’t want them to think that I use it as is.”

Various parts of my house are under going improvements.


fake monkey butler

Tuesday, December 21, 2004


So, part of that ‘what’s your size’ phone call was asking why I called the prior day.

I called because I was asked to mat and frame some pictures but I hadn’t yet got the pictures in hand. So, I called for the pictures.

“Christmas is this Saturday” I was told

“Yeah, you got the photos?”

“They’re by my bed. If you came home last night you would have seen them.”

“I have no problem showing up every night and climbing into bed. If that’s what you want” (I have a key)

“Are you going to copy them or do you want me to do it?”

I’m thinking the bed thing isn’t resolved yet but I really don’t want to copy the photos so I say “It’s better for me if you do it.”

“Okay, I’ll copy them.”

So, I figure I’m going to get a call that the photos are copied or that I’ll get them at lunch. She gets tied up and lunch gets canceled (that’s why buzznet has new pics) and I don’t hear back from her. I’m not too worried at least now it’s not my screw up that is keeping me from framing the photos.

I’m not too worried until nine o’clock in the evening when she calls to say the photos will be waiting for me at CVS.

I worry a little more when I remember that she wanted three sets framed identical (two for friends, one for herself) and I only got enough stuff for two sets, I forgot about her.

I get the photos and there are only two sets of photos.

Sometimes, I get lucky.

Best gift ever

So, I get a phone call from one of the agents who is also a friend.

“When are you coming in?”

“I don’t know. There is something I have to pick up today and I don’t know when I’ll be done”

“Oh, because I have a present for you, the best Christmas present ever and I want to be there when you open it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I could be late.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it in your office. I also need a check.”

There was other things said and she mentioned that she loves me three times, not all at once but sprinkled about. I was thinking: stand in line, Honey. (that’s not true at all)

So, I’m all excited about my gift because everybody knows that the best Christmas gift ever is a monkey butler but I was a little worried about him being in my office, alone.

I get to my office and there is a bag on the floor, it’s of shopping bag size and nothing is moving. First I think: man it’s one of those small monkey butlers which are nice but the big ones are better. I look in the bag and there is a 6.5oz bag of caramel popcorn (price still on the bottom) and a box about eight inches square, tied with a ribbon into a bow.

Monkey butler is out, the box is too small. So, I open the box and there is this piece of glass artwork. It weights about four pounds and is sort of teardrop shape but upside down.

It’s nice but it’s no monkey butler.

(today I kept the so’s in)

Measure this!

“What are your sizes?” she asked

“For shirts- large” I replied

the conversation strayed and then returned

“So, what are your sizes?” she asked again

"For shirts – large" I replied again

the conversation strayed again

"Large for shirts..." she said

"34 for pants"

"Are you sure *my son* is a thirty four"

"That’s what I wear"

"Are you sure?"


"What about shirts?" I know what she means, she means other than large.

"16 at the neck..."

"*my son* is sixteen and a half. Are you sure?"

"Gee, I don’t know let me ask my Mom" There was this pause and I didn't know if she wasn't enjoying the joke or that she thought that possibly that my Mom bought my clothes so I added:

"You know what a clothes horse I am, I know my sizes."

"16 and what"


"Inseam" we like jumping around with the questions.



"Yeah, I like them to kinda gather at the ankle"

"How tall are you?"

"five eight"

"Not any longer like 31 or 32?"


"Have you been sized?"

"I bought a suit recently"


"At *my normal suit store*"

"And they gave you the sizes?"

"..No" she caught me

"We need to meet for lunch. I know some people at *a different suit place* who will size you"

"Okay" I chose o.k. because if I said 'whatever' there would have been trouble, possibly.


now that picture of the cat has to go

Monday, December 20, 2004

I guess it was a draw

My one and only fist fight happened when I was twelve.

I won't back down (okay, sometimes I do)

Well I won’t back down, no I won’t back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won’t back down

Gonna stand my ground, won’t be turned around
And I’ll keep this world from draggin’ me down
Gonna stand my ground and I won’t back down

Hey baby, there ain’t no easy way out
Hey I will stand my ground
And I won’t back down.

Well I know what’s right, I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin’ me around
But I’ll stand my ground and I won’t back down

Hey baby there ain’t no easy way out
Hey I will stand my ground
And I won’t back down
No, I won’t back down


I'm tired to that picture that currently is leading off my buzznet account.

Any suggestions?


Most of my posts I start by typing "So," but then I erase it. In real life though the so remains.

So, I said "Not in my pants you won't!"

So, what was I thinking when I put that in my mouth...

So, What were you saying?

So, I was in line at the grocery store with 2 pounds of onions and a lime...

So, what

Sunday, December 19, 2004

odds? I don't need no stink'n odds

"Fourth and goal from the one - I would have gone for it." I said

"You always would have gone for it"


I dropped before the flop and heard

"Timmy's out? Timmy never drops out"


I don't need favorable odds, I just need a chance.

I'll suffer a few losses for a better win.

...but that doesn’t change the odds any.

My heart murmurs

There's always a portion I hold back

The portion is not most

but it's enough

Friday, December 17, 2004

We really shouldn't fight in front of the kids

I walked in and I swear she waved at me just like she always does so I waved back with my usually smile, that was when she yelled at me, “I’m not waving at you. You didn’t come in for lunch.” I usually come in for lunch. I said “I wasn’t waving at you I was waving at *the friendlier one*, and I’m here now.” She let me know that that wasn’t good enough, so I told her she was off my ‘good list,’ I think that makes the thirtieth time she’s been off my good list. I also let her know there was a reason I wasn’t there earlier but she didn’t want to hear it, she just gave me more attitude, so I asked “When did we get married?” Then she offered to make out with me but that was because she had strep throat.

I took a pass.

We got pretty loud right up until I sat down and a friendlier barkeep set a pint in front of me. It was only then that I noticed that the whole bar was looking at us. I smiled at her and she winked at me.

The show was over.

I told them I was only there to clue them in and that we as a group might not be coming by as much, the conversation lasted through another draft and I was asked if I wanted a third. I said “I’m good” and pushed the tumbler to the edge with a sawbuck underneath which would leave a tip larger than the check. The friendlier one took the glass but left the ten behind and said “You’re good, Sunshine” I gave her a questioning look holding up the money discreetly just off the bar, she said “They’re on me tonight.”
Some day when it's as mundane as it is right now. I'm going to post my cell phone number along with my calling card number and see what happens.

I don't feel much like dancing today


maybe things will change later on.

So, here's yesterday's post that didn't make it past the editor (the editor's a prick sometimes).

Sterling mentions my style here is different than over there.

I always smile when my ‘style’ is mentioned.

I smile because I used to think of a style as being a conscious decision. I smile because I used to think I’m style-less. I make no effort to write the way I do, I mainly just write what’s in my head… typos, syntax errors and all.

I smile because I do have a type of style and I think that’s cool. Whether the style itself is cool is debatable but the coolness of having a style is not.

Regina posted a post and says “Hey, that’s Tim-like” and she let me know. I read it and it was Tim-like, it was ‘brief and simple’ ending with a “Hmmm, I guess that's so.”

I hadn’t noticed the difference because both there and here it’s all me, I'm sort of familier with myself, but the change in style seems to be due the audience I perceive there to be. Here it’s enter at your own risk and I only embarrass myself over there I think folks expect a certain something, posts are supposed to have a point, it’s more business over there for me, anyway. I still haven't gotten the instruction booklet on "How to Bring the Beef."

I thought about it and the style change happens in person as well, there is a business side and then there is then a non-business side and it has nothing to do with my location. When I first meet a person I’m more like bringthebeef after awhile though I’m more like greencatfish.

today I said target=_blank

gold toothsome

"I'm an acquired taste, so bite me." - dialog I imagine someone else saying

Thursday, December 16, 2004

It's a waste of water

He was staring at the glass pondering that age old question, is the glass half full or is the glass half empty?

But then he hears “Just bus the damn table.”

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

It's cold outside, maybe colder still inside

Motion caught my eye so I looked out the right side of the windshield. It looked like horseplay at first, then like someone was being mugged, lastly like a bum was being rolled. He was lying face down, I didn’t see him moving. The two teenage boys, maybe seventeen years old, were already walking away.

“Kinda serves him right, if he’s a fall-down-drunk bum” I said to myself trying to convince myself of something and kept driving.

“What if he isn’t a bum?”

So what if he is? It’s below freezing, he wasn’t wearing a heavy jacket.”

“A man’s life might be a risk, all because you want to go about your normal life.”

There were other questions, other statements, I made it about six city blocks at thirty miles per hour before I turned around.

It took me that long to value that dude’s whole entire life greater than one half hour of my day to day.


Have you ever posted something and then go around to your favorite bloggers and find similar words or phrases or themes which makes you wonder “Did I read that here and then use it?” so you start checking the dates and times of the posts because you don’t want to look like a copy cat?

Have you ever saved a copy of Donald E. Westlake’s “The Spy in the Ointment” forget where you saved it, find it one day while looking for something else, give it to your sister who’s a bookaholic, then wish you had the book back again because you haven’t read it in nine years or so ask to borrow the book back “whenever you get around to it” say forget it I’m not waiting, go online and buy a used library hardcover copy of it, start reading it as soon as you get it and realize that either you write a lot like Donald E. Westlake or he writes an awful lot like you?

Red is not my color


“Timmy, it’s me the pain in the neck.”

“Hi” the person calling is the owner’s aunt

“What are you doing Friday night?”

“Errr, nothing.” Friday is her family’s Christmas party which I’ve been invited to but most likely am not going to. I’m playing it cool.

‘Well, we need someone to be Santa. Can you do it?”

My first reaction – “Holy shit”
My second reaction – “Hell, no”
My third reaction – “Whad d fuk? Do I look anything like Santa?”
My fourth reaction – “I’ve heard Santa’s a Nazi” from raymi talking about this
My fifth reaction and only spoken reaction:

“I would be really uncomfortable being Santa”

“Oh, okay I will ask *so and so*.”

“Yeah, he’ll be a much better Santa.”

How the heck did I ever get asked that question?

the Radio tells me I'm famous

bing, the green catfish, trace-face, tone loc, and the leader of the bring the beef blog are all patrons to my store. who else has such famous clientele?

one of these things is not like the others.

one of these things doesn’t belong.

He asked, I obliged, he threw me a link and lumped me in with the famous.

Knowing Anti he was probably too… let’s say busy to say ‘famous clientele and this guy’ so he just went with ‘famous clientele.’ Thanks.

He says “I hope it looks good on your coffee table”

I guess famous people have coffee tables.

Great, now I have to get a coffee table.

Fame has a price. It's 19.99 and a coffee table

Anti says target=new. I say target=external.

Sometimes I peek at your code.

No News

She said "It's just a woman thing" and pulled out of the drive
I said not to worry I'm an understanding guy.
I've heard that when you love someone, you gotta let em go.
She hollered "When I find myself you'll be the first to know."

Ooh No news

I learned to do the laundry, feed the cat, and clean the house.
I promised to be patient while she worked her problems out.
When she packed her bags, her destination wasn't clear;
But I sensed that her intentions were honest and sincere.

Ooh No news

She could telephone, tell a friend, tell a lie about where she's been.
Send a pigeon, send a fax; Write it on a post-it pad.
Send a signal up in smoke, tap it out in Morse Code.
I'd prefer a bad excuse to no news

Her mama's been a little vague as to her whereabouts.
Her sister says "I'm certain your romance is headed south."
I don't have a single doubt that she's still in love;
My level of anxiety is just a product of

Ooh No news

She could telephone, tell a friend, tell a lie about where she's been.
Send a pigeon, send a fax; Write it on a post-it pad.
Send a signal up in smoke, tap it out in Morse Code.
I'd prefer a bad excuse

She missed her bus, missed her plane; surely this can be explained.
Lost her car at the mall; got locked in a bathroom stall.
Playing guitar with The Band; on the road with Pearl Jam.
Buried with The Grateful Dead; came back as a Parrot Head.
Got derailed, got de-iced; offered as a sacrifice.
FBI, CIA; if they've seen her they ain't saying.

No news
Still no news!

-Sam Hogin / Phil Barnhart / Mark D. Sanders

a little over a year ago, I was thinking...

Okay, I don't know what I was thinking over a year ago but on 10-22-03 I bought 37 shares of AK Steel Holding (AKS) for $2.31 a share so total cost was $85.47 (I pay $4 commision charge so I just forget about it in my figures).

Anyway, I'm not going home for some reason, goofing about on the internet and say "Ya know, I haven't checked my portfolio lately" so I check it. It's doing okay but then I see 452.81% which is the increase of AKS from when I bought it, dollar amount of increase $387.02 off an $85 investment, that's for doing nothing.


See it now before it tanks.

Over all my portfolio is up 95% if you were wondering. Total value today $4,744.08. Initial investment $2,423.44.

That's right, I'm a fat cat.

I started investing back when I felt guilty buying lottery tickets.

I didn't actually stop buying lottery tickets though.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Good luck

“He not available, would you like to leave a message?” I asked.

“I’ve called him many times and he never talks to me. Is he going to talk to me?”

“Sir, I can’t make him pick up the phone. The best I can do is give him a message.”

“Will he call me back?”

“Sir, I can’t make him call you back. ...He hasn't ever called you back?”

“No ...I’ve never left a message.”

“You’ve called him many times and nobody has ever offered to take a message!?”


“Well, why don’t we try leaving a message for him?”

“Will he call me back?”

I just laughed, but most likely - no

"And I thought, this is my portion."

"This is my ration."

"It's all okay."

I envy that (edited by siteowner)

I desire that

Love and a .45

Badge number 3-0-1
Sits in his car and stares at his gun
He wipes the blood from his shirt, the sweat from his brow
He got out this time but he don’t know how
Well he’d go home but nobody’s there
No one to hold, no one to care
There was a time he had someone
But one day he came home and she was gone

Love and a .45
One will kill you, one’ll keep you alive
Love and a .45

Parole number fourteen-two
Stands on the corner like she used to do
She’s been away awhile, so she a little afraid
And the judge said he didn’t want to see her again
But she’s got no money, she’s got no rent
The money she had is already spent
‘cause a couple weeks ago she learned her lesson
Went and bought herself a little Smith & Wesson

Love and a .45
One will kill you, one’ll keep you alive
Love and a .45

At 3:15 he got a call, somebody heard a scream behind a wall
At a little motel down by the bay, but before he got there they got away
Well she was all right just a little roughed up
So he took her down to the coffee shop
The report he filed said victim unknown
Now she waits up nights for him to come home

Love and a .45
One will kill you, one’ll keep you alive
Love and a .45

-Chris Knight / Fred Eaglesmith

No. Thank You

"What were you doing when I called?"

"I was waiting at the gas station" I had been waiting at the airport gas station, waiting for her call to tell me that all the luggage was off the belt and ready to go. That's our system, I get close and wait to strike. In and out, wham bam thank you ma'am.

"No. When I called you before." She called me at my house as well.

"Nothing." I sensed that wasn't an anwser she was hoping for so I added, "I was waiting for you." I said matter-of-factly, like what else would I be doing? "You get special treatment."

"Thank you" she said after she smiled.

Lord Catfish

Become a Lord for $29.99

"One incensed aristocrat is fighting back at what he sees is a scam and is warning potential shoppers that buying the title of Lord, Viscountess, Baron or Earl is meaningless."

Yeah, no shit.

ten thousand villages

whether it's a good cause or not they have stuff like this. (tableware)

ten thousand villages

clued me in.

By the way

Good riddance you baseball crybaby whore Padro

Monday, December 13, 2004


We never really hung out together. Our time together was always ‘work’ related. We ran in different circle and had different motivations. We were alike in that we were the end of the line, when the matter came to us, there was either success or failure, there would be no do-overs. Another similarity – we were loners, trust no one. Usually when we met it was not for reasons of our own doing, we were getting someone else’s back, jumping into the fray for somebody else. We were there because we couldn’t say ‘no’ to a friend in need.

I wouldn’t classify us as friends but I knew if I needed help he would do what he could and he would get the same from me. There was a mutual respect but the respect came from a distance. But the request for assistance would never be spoken – we were loners.

Shoot your bolt

“you are normal. so normal in fact that I might puke!”

That’s a quote from Amanda the first person to link this site. Also, the first to send an email which surprised the heck out of me. Actually, both things surprised me. And, I'm still surprised when those same things happen, today. That was before I had comments. I didn't have comments because I didn't think there was a need.

I often wonder if I am normal. Things that others avoid I embrace.

Although, I don’t think I’m abnormal, atypical, quirky, eccentric, or any other adjective that be confused with keen.

I’ve never really try to fit in, the effort is more or less not to stand out.

I pick Lady G up at the airport this evening the 7:25PM flight from Ft Lauderdale. She and the kids are returning from a cruise.

It’s a mostly annual type thing her and the kids go away.

“It’s a family thing. I thought you were family” is what she said to me in her first phone call from FL before boarding the ship. I was invited to go, five people in one cabin, felt like trouble.

The kids sometimes go out of their way for me. I don’t like being a burden.

“You don’t get away much with just the kids. I didn’t want to be a hanger on.”


Whatever – I get that a lot.

shoot (one's) bolt Slang
To do all within one's power; exhaust all of one's resources or capabilities.

“Beats me, I’ve shot my bolt”

My dad was offering advice to a young father, I was in ear shot. He said there comes a time when you have to choose whether you want to be their friend or their father.

And true to my father form he didn’t say which was the most proper decision, because the decision is always the individuals.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

What the heck?

I get to the second job and I have this note that says:

“Why is stuff stored on the hard drive? Should be stored on a network drive. …Just a suggestion, documents should not be stored on the “C” drive. Please let me know if you want me to change anything”

The second job has a network that consists of three P4’s, one P3, one P2, two laptops, a color laser printer, and a DSL line.

Notice I didn’t list anything called a server. The network is peer to peer.

The note writer also included a screen capture of a window from Windows Explorer which shows a sub-director called Admin’s Documents under the ‘My Computer’ icon and suggests that the data files be saved in that directory.

I have all the data files under a sub-directory called Data whose path is this C:\Documents and settings\Admin\Admin’s Documents\Shared Documents.

If you are done yawning, please notice that the sub-directory called ‘Admin’s Documents’ is included in the latter path name. That is because it is the same sub-directory and the ‘Admin’s Documents’ that is under ‘My Computer’ is just a shortcut to the directory to where I dump all the data files (in further assorted sub-directories).

I want to know who the hell says you aren’t supposed to save data on the c: drive. We all know you aren’t supposed to save data in the root directory but that isn’t what she said. Where the hell else are you suppose to save your data if not the hard drive known as c?

How many regular folks have more than one hard drive in their machine now that 40GB drives are run of the mill?

And what does she think a network drive is?


I'm top of the list with this search silk screen t-shirts wrap around maps

Saturday, December 11, 2004

Who, indeed

“Are you going to the fundraiser?”

The fundraiser in question is the political fundraiser for which I recently had done the invites.

“Naw, I don’t think so.”

“You usually don’t go, I know”

“Yeah, I’ve stayed away for those things even since…”

“I know *the campaign*”

“Yeah, I helped *this person* and *that person* but not much else. I’ve been thinking about starting to do more.”

“But who, that’s the question.”

If our conversation were to be part of some written dialog, some editor might say there are holes, some jumps. Trouble is we both know our thoughts, we differ on some things, we’re identical on other things but rarely do we need straight lines to understand each other.

Who? That is the question. The question that slows my actions. Even the politicals I know have their flaws and I’m not talking about small things either. Things like trust issues.

The conversation continued with what’s wrong with everyone.

The conversation is in a type of code, names are replaced with pronouns or ‘you know who’ a type of polite courtesy to protect the guilty. Bad mouthing folks ain’t as bad if you don’t actually speak their name, I guess.

Unfortunately sometimes there are compromises to be made.

The party wasn’t totally catered but there were a couple of young girls that were hired to walk around with the appetizers. I was approached with a tray.

“Would you like to try one of these? They are really good.” She spoke with a pronounced Lithuanian accent.

“Would you tell me if they weren’t?”

“Excuse me?”

I was seated, she was standing when she first asked but had now crouched in front of me and seemed to be waiting, eagerly, for me to repeat my foolish question.

I think about just forgetting my question. I try to calculate her reaction. I thought my humor was going to lost on her but I repeated my question as I took the offering.

“No, these really are good” she replied as she forced an uneasy smile.

My humor was lost on the both of us at this point.


“*the bar manager* asked if you ever got drunk. I told him – yeah, he just hides it better.”

“How am I doing right now?”

“You’re alright”

I hide lots of things

Friday, December 10, 2004


"You guys are the best"

"We're the best?" I asked with my sly grin because I was sitting next to a regular who just came in.

"Are you going to make a wise ass remark because you're Timmy the Wise Ass"

"I thought I was Timmy the Smart Ass"

"Wise ass, smart ass, fat ass does it really matter?"

I guess it really doesn't


another Christmas Party finished with

"I'm glad to see you relaxing"

I wasn't really relaxing, this parties are not very relaxing for me.


I was reminded that I need to backup my blogger template. I haven't done that for awhile.

I tell myself stories

So the last of the business holiday parties is tonight. Lady G is on a cruise with the kids so believe it or not, I’m taking my mother.

I was reading my archives the other day because I needed to check the date on something and it seems to me that I used to write better posts. But then I thought that I used to sit more and think as well, you know back when I was occasionally preparing home cooked meals.

Maybe I busy myself so I don’t have to think.

I just realized I’ve written a journal most of my life it’s only been lately that I’ve started writing it outside of my head. Most of my talking to myself is not dissimilar to what ends up here.

I tell myself stories of my life.

long or longer

So here’s the deal. I was at the company holiday party after work. The party started at 5:30PM, I’m off work at 4PM so for that hour and a half I went to a nearby place and had a couple. Well, I think I had a couple a couple of times but I can’t actually remember the precise amount. After three I seem to stop counting.

I made it to the party at 5:40PM someone brought me a beer, unknown to us it was open bar so when the beer was gone I said something like “screw this beer stuff, I’m having a whiskey sour” and I did.

After the cocktail and some of the buffet, I left and went back to that first nearby place where friends were to be waiting.

I was given a shot of something I didn’t know what it was followed by a beer and then another shot of something I didn’t know what it was then I had more beer and another shot of something I didn’t know what it was.

My boss who was pretty much matching my pace sang karaoke.

Sometime during the night I got a call from the second job which I let go to voice mail. It turns out somebody needs something for tomorrow so here I am at the second job posting this nonsense and seeing how long it will take me to do what needs to be done. It should take no more fifteen minutes but I think I’ll be here longer than that.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Usually, I gots no problem with stealing

I’m fussing with stuff and one item of stuff is how I denote my comments. I had changed it not too long ago but I was having trouble picking up when a comment was made unless I went to Haloscan to the manage comments option.

I was going to steal the ‘gots no balls’ from but that don’t seem right.


The latest remembered dream was a single panel comic strip.

Can a single panel really be called a strip?

There was this guy on an operating table and had his abdomen wide open. He’s conscious and says to his concerned friend “Don’t worry I only had a bowel rejoicement.”

I have no idea what the heck this means and I don’t think I have even ever used the word rejoicement.


I almost laughed

King Features

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

It's 2:04 AM

It is always the way with me. I won't have much to do so I goof around until it takes me until 2:00 in the morning to finish.

I did copy all the CD's I had with me so now I can stop lugging these 26 and grab another 26 or so and copy them as well. I copy my CD's at the second office because it's the fastest machine I have access to the has two CD drives.

I was so intent on pissing away time. I typed out the lyrics to a song.

I had two Cranberry Lime Selters and a Chuck E Cheese's mug of tea since I've been here and instead of copying the two things I need to copy and leave, I'm here making this lameass post.


latest crude quote "I think she has more to offer than just a fuck hole"

I'm sure there is a better way I could have said that but that's the way I chose.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Long Year

I came in off a dead end street
Walked in slow and took a back row seat
I knew I had nothing new to say
So many people looked so burned out
I couldn’t help feeling bad about just having to be there anyway

A friend of a friend from work came in
I never have known what to make of him
He’d always seemed to be so insincere to me
You know I’ve always been afraid of the 12 step crowd
They laugh too much and talk too loud
Like they all know where everyone should be

It’s been a long long long year
It’s been a long long long year
How did I get here?

They were talking in a circle I was by myself
Everyone was telling everyone how they felt
It felt like so long ago since I’d been young
As the circle kept moving its way to the back
I was wondering what I was going to say in fact
I still didn’t know as it rolled off my tongue

It’s been a long long long year
It’s been a long long long year
How did I get here?

I didn’t say a word all the way to my car
But a little later on that night at the bar
I was telling everybody how strange my day had been
They say brother all you need is another shot
So I threw one down and said thanks a lot
As I thought to myself here we go again

It’s been a long long long year
It’s been a long long long year
How did I get here?

-Todd Snider

silver pennies are only worth a cent if you spend them

I have this form when filled out will send a portion of regular pay to up to four charities.

I have this booklet full of charities with corresponding codes. Last year I sent money to the aquarium. The aquarium’s money problems were making the paper, they do other things than just open their doors to the public, so I sent a very nominal amount their way.

It wasn’t the best use of my spare change.

I think I picked the aquarium because if they happened to fail at their quest, it would be no big deal in the big scheme of things. It’s not life and death. Not human life and death anyway.

I’m thumbing through the booklet and I’m thinking the world is really fucked up, all these groups needing to promote their good causes.

In the bigger scheme of things...

Some I understand:

Doc tors Without Bord ers – an independent international medical relief organization that sends volunteer health professionals to aid victims of war, epidemics and natural disasters in over 80 countries.

Helen Kel ler International – works in 25 nations in Asia, Africa and the Americas to treat and/or prevent cataract, nutritional blindness, onchocerciasis, refractive error and trachoma.

Reading is Fund amental, Inc. (RIF) – by promoting a love of books, RIF encourages children’s literacy.

Some I don’t:

United States Sports men’s All iance – to protect hunting, fishing and trapping through public education and legal defense.

“We will never forget” but I don’t remember quite the way I used to.

The best I can relate it to is the one and only time I hit my thumb with a hammer. My hammer of choice is a 20oz straight claw Estwing with the leather ring handle. Most of your standard hammers are 16oz, so my hammer has a little bit more punch to it. I was in a hurry and using twisted lumber and I was in an awkward position and I ended up hitting my thumb with a clean shot. The result wasn’t pretty and most painful for such a relatively small area.

I remember at the time thinking that I will never forget this pain and for the next six months I could still recall the physical feeling of that pain but after awhile I could not. I forgot the pain but I could still remember the thoughts of that pain. The thought that I would never forget, the thought of wondering if amputating the thumb at the knuckle would be less painful than the damage done above the knuckle.

I can’t remember the actual pain but I still remember the result of that pain.

I dream

I had a dream last night. Last night I was at social function, a dinner so folks can get to know each other better so we can be a better team. It seems I need to get to know folks better. It was an Association’s annual banquet, an association of which I’m a member. It fifty bucks or so a ticket, I was there on someone else’s dime. The tradition is that we go down early and have a few at the ninety nine. I asked for a tall bud and received a beer in a novelty sized mug. The thing was huge, it must have been a foot tall and four inches in diameter, I felt like I should be wearing one of those enormously large foam cowboy hats while I was drinking this thing. After the 99, we show up at the cocktail hour and have normal sized drinks and then dinner.

But that is not the dream that is just the set up. The dream was that I was on a tour bus, the double decker kind only it wasn’t a bus it was a boat, and the seating wasn’t normal. The seating was similar to how you would sit at one of those rectangular banquet tables you find at training conferences and the like, while you are trying to look at some speaker at the front of the room, kind of 45 degree-ish to the table.

I was taking the tour, I think by myself, meaning there is nobody I know but the vehicle is full and during one of the slow parts I glance behind me and see Linda Evans, the actress. We start talking and I turn on the charm, I turn it on to cartoon type proportions.

I sometimes do this in real live, I’ll do things, things out of character just to see if I can get a reaction. If I get a reaction when I don’t expect to, then I don’t know what to do with myself. In real life I don’t think I would try to charm Linda Evans. I would most likely just leave her be.

So my delivery of charm, in the dream, is flawless and to my surprise it works. She ends up placing her head on my shoulder and then I get uneasy because I don’t know where to put my arms or hands. Normally, I know where to put my hands when something like this happens but this is Linda Evans, the actress, so I sit there like an uncomfortable cold fish, with my hands mostly in my lap.

Then I woke up

Monday, December 06, 2004

Happy Pearl Harbor Day (tomorrow)

I typed something I internalized, a comment came that externalized it, externalized it for me anyway, a comment about 9/11. A comment from a New Yorker.

I live in a historic town, history abounds, I can literally reach out and touch it and in some places walk on the same stones as founding fathers memorialized in not just local statues and plagues but in school books across the nation, possibly the world. This town of mine also has a fair amount of museums and a pretty good aquarium.

I’m spoiled and jaded.

I can remember traveling with my grandparents, my paternal grandmother and my step grandfather, we would travel to other cities and I would wonder where are all the historic sites, where are the museums and where is the aquarium.

I like history, I’m most likely a product of my environment. I remember certain historic parts more than others because I can see them, I can touch them.

Like most of the world, 9/11 was delivered to me via a television set. Visions of horror “We will never forget.” I do remember but as time goes by 9/11 feels more like a newer 12/7, a contemporary Pearl Harbor.

For me 9/11 is a bit of modern day history, a memory that is occasionally recalled.

But others have side stepped the rubble and I imagine they can still smell that distinctive odor of that white gray dust.

My past is still their present. For me that noise from that day has been somewhat drowned out by other sounds.

But if I listen I can still hear that day in other’s ears.

My friends have it the worst

The occasion was a social gathering. One of the purposes, though unstated, was to get us to know each other better, so that we will be a more effective team. I sat with three friends not by design but by happenstance. There was this moment not unlike musically chairs and when the small talked stopped you were expected to sit.

One of the organizers, who I actually consider a friend, came over and noticed that my table was quite familiar with each other which was contrary to the purpose so he stated “I might have to break this group up.” I smiled my sly smile while looking at one of my friends, who had just turned to look at me, and then I slowly turned to the one speaking. I didn’t look him in the eye, I didn’t even look directly at him. I sort of just looked in his direction, held my gaze about five inches from his person and said “Have at it.”

He didn’t have at it. I turned my attention back to the conversation. He stood quiet for a moment and then sat down and joined in.

If you can’t beat them join them – I guess was his thinking.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

You know how zippers are

I was standing leaning on the wrought iron fence waiting for Little g, her after school program was to let out at 1:30PM.

The program administrators say you must get there by 1:30PM or else. The or else is mostly a shame on you finger point but they make a big deal about it. I usually have to wait eleven minutes after the 1:30 bewitching hour because I guess they think their time is worth more than mine. They make a big deal about everything. They also have an attitude that they are doing the students a favor by gracing them with their teaching.

I took a look around at the other people waiting, most were showing signs of being bothered by the cold. Most - which precluded a guy standing much like I was but looking a whole lot more like Snoop Dog. I wondered if I was standing the way I was to look more like a badass.

I really don’t do badass well.

Little g greeted me with a smile and asked “How are you doing?”

“How am I doing? I’m doing good.”

“Just answer one word.”

“Just one word? Then I’m good but I really should say well.” I replied with a smile. She just rolled her eyes.

She makes note of my u-turn made at the nearest intersection. I had parked on the school side of the street which ended up pointing the truck in the opposite direction of Little g’s home. I parked on the same side because a couple years back a student was hit by a car crossing this same street to a beckoning grandfather.

“I want to learn to drive. I want to be the best driver ever” She tells me.

“Is there an award for that?”

“Yes, there is. I want to be a race car driver.”

Well at least you’ll be famous because I’m sure in six years when you can get your license there will still be no black female race car drivers.

After she made her revelation I thought I should get her to F-1 and stick her in a cart.

I walked her up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, she let herself in with a key and tries to take off her coat but the zipper lets loose from the bottom and stops the zipper half way down. I only noticed this when she asked for help.

“Can you fix this?”

“You don’t like it like that?”

“It’s not very fashionable”

The zipper was the type with the metal teeth, I took hold of the tab with most of my might well as much of my might as I could summon to my right thumb and accompanying forefinger and gave a determined yank. I worried that the zipper was going to get stuck and I would have to repeat my procedure after every three eighths of an inch of progress. I worried that on one of the up swings my grip would slip and I would have to explain how I bloodied some little girl’s nose. I worried because you know how zippers are but this zipper had nothing to prove. He had just come undone and took nicely to the redoing.

One quick zip down and it was done.

Sometimes, I worry too much.

catalogue for philanthropy

I believe in only one thing: liberty; but I do not believe in liberty enough to force it upon anyone – H.L. Mencken (U.S. journalist 1880-1956)

Freedom is not an ideal, it is not even a protection, if it means nothing more than to stagnate, to live without dreams, to have no greater aim than a second car and another television set. – Adlai E. Stevenson (Illinois governor, presidential candidate, and UN ambassador, 1900-1965)


I think, we both were within an inch of learning to fly, or at least I might have managed as much as is required for a decent crash – from Vertigo by W.B. Sebald.


I got this in the mail.

catalogue for philanthropy

phi·lanthro·pist n One who practices philanthropy; one who loves mankind, and seeks to promote the good of others

I was amused.

Friday, December 03, 2004


just some guy here

He knows me on sight. I’ve worked more with his wife then him. I know his former campaign finance guy even better and the campaign finance guy’s wife even better than that, his wife was actually, kiddingly, giving me crap while I was decorating someone’s house.

To him I’m one of the guys in the phrase I know a guy who knows a guy.

I usually help out his wife with some support work for one of her charitable fundraisers. Table tents for silent auction items, stuff like that.

I bring this up because he went from being regular working guy on the street to U.S. Congressman in seven years. He is still a regular guy.

I could have been more involved with his campaigns. The opportunity was made available, I took a pass. I was too busy. I did do some support work for someone running a couple of fundraisers for him but that was about it.

I bring this up because sometimes you can never tell how much something little can bring forth sizable gain. He got to where he is with a lot of help from a few folks and just a little bit of help from a lot of folks. He’s a good man. I don’t always agree with him but he does what he thinks is best for the people.

Change sometimes takes time. You can either be one of the few that helps a lot or be one of the many that helps a little bit. You can even be one of the many that does nothing at all but the choice is yours.

People get the government they deserve.

On second thought

So, I'm decorating some garland with these fake white berried small leafed bunches. The 'look' is the same as last year. The garland is on a handrail. The leafed bunches are mistletoe.

Mistletoe at waist level - I guess you can kiss my ass.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

seven four seven

my first name has seven letters

my last name has seven letters

my middle initial is J

the J is for John

the John is for my father

I'm not named John because my mom didn't want two John's in the house

but that's a different story

I like the symetry of my written name

but I guess that's not a story either

I fancy myself as an essayist

Although I sometimes put words to a page I don't consider myself a writer.

Although I sometimes post entries to a web log I don't consider myself a blogger.

I fancy myself as an essayist.

That's not one bit true but I just get a kick out of saying "I fancy..." and like using the word essayist because really what the heck is an essayist?

an essay is...

psst, I'm a dork that likes reading definitions.


I took the day off from the day job.

I'm here at the second job. That's why the time of this post is during business hours.

I'm at the second job to do the proofs for a postcard/palmcard that some agent requested kinda last minute. It really wasn't last minute it was just asked at a bad time.

I gots all kinda shit happening.

Anyway, the proofs for the cards are done. Good luck trying to get CopyCop to produce what you want, despite the three differnet layouts I provided along with the PDF file on floppy disk.

I could produce them for you if you didn't want three thousand of them.

The difference between a palm card and a post card? A palm card you hand out and a post card you mail. These cards are being delivered both ways.

I promised I would finish stringing those damn Christmas lights today.

If you knew me you would find that title as funny as I do.

...although technically it may be correct.

Sometimes, I'll shout down a well

I told myself “I usually don’t respond well to threats.”

I seem to like to cause trouble with myself.

I told myself “First, I would most likely be frustrated in the same situation. It could just be frustration. Second, that is something I would say, something said with a no bones about it attitude. Third, she’s right.”

I was here until 3:15AM. More invites were needed along with customized note sheets, one hundred of them. One hundred of both the invites and the note sheets.

Where is the fight? That’s a good question. If you look down the list they all know how to convey a message, some do it quite well. I know not everyone agrees one hundred percent with everyone else, yet no one speaks up. Well, almost no one.

I’m here again today because folks were having trouble printing labels. “I’ve made corrections to the labels but the uncorrected labels keep printing out. And it only prints out one sheet of labels before it quits and the error light starts flashing.” First, take the default off of manual feed if you are not going to manual feed the labels. Second, delete the eight print jobs of the old uncorrected labels you sent to the printer.

I’m not really surprised. Lots of people complain but few care enough to do something about. I know I don’t care enough sometimes. Well, at least I know I can no longer use the excuse that I’m ‘retired’ from politics and I came to realize I never actually stopped, completely. I just took a step or two further back into the shadows. “Thanks for asking but I don’t do political stuff anymore. Here are your 350 custom invites with reply cards for your re-election fundraiser. This one’s on me. Sorry, I can’t help you out with the campaign.”

I thought a call for posts might get a reaction.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004


“Can I tell you something?” The question was asked without pausing for an answer. “State Senators and all politicians are just like you and me. ...Except maybe their heads are a little further up their ass.”