Victory

I'm not sure I know how victory feels. Certainly I've won contests and games and events in the past, and have accomplished much, but victory seems to be more than that.

I've heard people speak of victory in Christ. I don't have that same feeling. That victory is something undeserved.

I've heard people proclaim victory with hands held high. I don't have that same feeling. Sounds like boasting.

I've heard people sing songs of victory with loud voice. I don't have that same feeling. These songs are written with someone else's words.

Each chant, proclamation, spoken word or song of victory seems to be a taunt to someone less able or capable, a celebration of ego or a braggart's anthem. I'm thinking the feeling of victory should be absent.

I'm glad I don't know how victory feels.

Thieves A Plenty

Been looking for a new vehicle all day. I've seen so many slimy, unconscionable, failures in society that I am prepared to walk wherever I go from now on so long as I don't have any further contact with these parasitic bacteria called car "salesmen".

Why does the government allow and protect these sleaze buckets?

Why don't we see some violence against them or some arrests because of practices that would be considered criminal in any other circumstance. Why do we have salesman anyway? What use is a buzzing gnat with cigarette breath and cheap pomade stink?

I now consider all acts against them acceptable. I will engage and encourage others to prank them, accuse them, abuse them, command them, refuse them and anything else possible that could humiliate them or infuriate them. I will make it my mission to waste their time, walk away after all the figures are in, develop a wicked case of turrets when they call and threaten them with mobster goons with as much scruples as they have.

Oh yeah, it's on, buddy boy. I dare you! Go see your manager. Introduce me to whatever idiots you have employed there. I can't wait to make up some lies about what you just promised me and said about your boss. I'm eating a big bag of potato chips and going in your cubicle as gassed up as I can possibly be without blowing my own shorts off. Ever hear of the stink finger? It's coming your way. Let's shake on it! I want to talk about how ugly your wife is and how I saw your kids shooting up at the school yard. I'm gluing slices of baloney under your desktop so you can enjoy it 5 days from now in all of it's ripened baloney glory! I'm gonna make you sing your company jingle or I'm walking out. When you do sing it I'm walking out anyway because you sound bad. I'm gonna tell you not to quit your day job - whatever that is! Oh yeah, brutha, it's on!

I Remember

I am reminded how much I hate getting hit in the shins everytime I am hit in the shins.

First Hand Important Information

Yesterday, I found out that Ronald McDonald smells like a powdered woman, the Phillie Phanatic only smells bad on the inside of the suit, and Manny is the short one from Manny, Moe and Jack.

Being a government employee has its perks.

40 Years

I was watching Emilio's movie about the shooting of Robert Kennedy this morning. The film is called Bobby. Two things completely unrelated struck me.

The first being that the DVD is a Blockbuster exclusive. Apparently they are the only group renting this feature. The initial 12 chapters on the DVD were all advertising of Weinstein movies available now and for future release, and of course for our good friends at the local Blockbuster. You know, I have the DVD that I just rented and it's spinning in my player at my house which means I already had to go to Blockbuster to get it because it is a Blockbuster exclusive and I'm viewing it with the full knowledge that it came from Blockbuster and no longer need the information that it is only available at Blockbuster. I don't want to be continually reminded of where I rented it while I'm trying to watch it. The constant repeating of the phrase Blockbuster exclusive on the DVD almost made me take it back to Blockbuster, without watching it, and tossing it through the Blockbuster window, exclusively (I have never been a big fan of self promotion). Alright already. I get it!

The second crack to my head came from the actual archival footage of Bobby K. used throughout the movie. The sound bites and images were arresting in the fact that today, 40 years after his death, politicians are saying and campaigning with the same exact words in all of the same cliche photo opportunities, harping on the same existing social situations, and nothing has been changed other than the vehicle of media is now videotape that records in living color rather than the 16mm black and white film of yesterday.

It is pathetic that poverty still thrives, that racism is the norm, that we do not take care of each other and that we are still "fighting" wars we don't win. No progress in 40 years. That is some stagnation that has to be stirred or flushed. I hold myself personally responsible since I have been alive for those 40 years and have done little to nothing to change anything. I hang my head low and apologize. I will try to influence and contribute to an awareness and remedy of the blight that fogs our nation. It's time to make my own movies.

Have Some Laughs, Whatever It Takes!

Nurses, You Just Made The List

I don't know why I am always surprised by a simple fact I've always known, but manage to forget as healthy times are enjoyed. Nurses may be a caring lot, but they ALL have a streak of mean in there, and it dances out on every occasion when you are at your most vulnerable.

After getting examined by several emergency room practitioners for my crash injuries this past Sunday (7 in all - each wanting a piece of the insurance pie) a nurse finally came in to do the actual work of cleaning and dressing my wounds. She seemed pleasant enough as someone can be working on their day off, which she mentioned several times. That should have been my first indicator.

Being Mr. Jokey Joke man, keeping it light after my van crash, I am dispensing the comedy. Free of charge. ALSO on MY day off. Apparently she was none too amused.

I only requested one act of kindness that I thought was reasonable, to take it easy on the tape being used to keep the bandages in place on my carpeted belly. She said she understood. She also told me warm soapy water would take care of the removal with a minimum of discomfort. She applied strips of tape on each of the 4 sides of the gauze pads and then went back and doubled up the tape walls extending the tape coverage by at least 2 inches per side. At the time I was not aware of the second row of tape and actually thanked her.

It took me 2 hours to get that tape off with a straight edge razor blade meant for scraping walls or slashing wrists. A torturous slow procedure I performed while still experiencing the pain and distress of the initial bruising. Cutting each individual hair as I lifted the tape, stretching out the fur and blub being careful not to slice flesh, unable to dilute the sticky with any warm soapy anything, was as difficult as playing Operation while wearing pillows on your hands.

For days now the adhesive remained on my skin attaching itself to my shirts and sheets. My hair, flattened and curled up, entangled in sticky glue refusing to let go, now blackened from lint, screams upon every movement my belly makes. The good thing is I no longer remember the pain from the powder burns of the air bag because this tape residue abuse is far worse.

I've been getting all kinds of remedies from family and friends for sticky removal this week, none of which worked. I thought I was going to have permanent goo outlining my gut forever until I saw the can of magic delight on the shelf. I recall hearing about the infinite uses of this all purpose wonder spray and decided to give it a try. It may have left me smelling like a Pep Boys mechanic, but it worked, and worked well!

GOD BLESS WD40! That blue and yellow can should be in every house and car! I suggest you go shopping right now if you don't have any.

RIGHT MEOW!!!!

That's Just Great

Greatness. Is it given or gotten? Can you achieve it on your own or does it already have to be there? Talent from God? Skill from man? Taught or known? Insight or directed? Molded or created?

Ever meet a person with a perfect body and fantastic features that never enter a gym or do one exercise or diet? What about the 6 year old playing complicated concertos on the piano? Some people will always stand out in a crowd and shine wherever they are while others blend in and may never be noticed. An artist can see something others could never imagine. There are those that struggle and exert much effort to accomplish a task and there are those that glide along succeeding without labor.

I slept until about 3 this afternoon and 5 hours later I'm ready for bed. I will always struggle but I know when to close my eyes to the things around me. New starts are refreshing, giving up mistakes from the past is necessary, moving forward no matter what the circumstance may be is required and greatness doesn't mean very much in the scope of things important.

Science or Sorcery?

You slap some meat on a couple slices of bread. Maybe some lettuce, tomato, a gherkin or two or more. You two hand it and raise it to your mouth and insert. Close the choppers and you have your first bite. Good so far until the bread gets compressed and stuck to the roof of your mouth. You try to pry it off with your tongue. You try creating some downward suction to release the goods. Sometimes only a finger scraping at the ceiling will loosen the prize. Once in a while panic engulfs you when your failed attempts amass to a number greater than you care to know, and you begin to choke or lose your breath or gag.

Is there a solution my momma never taught me or is it a common battle amongst man? Is this a fault in the design of the mouth or of the sandwich? Is it God or demon? Science or sorcery? Stroehmann or Wonder?

I'm OK

I had a bit of a crash around 8:30 pm Sunday night as a result of rainy slick roads and a young lady that didn't wait her turn for the light to change. Against a red signal she crossed into the intersection I was crossing and we did a classic T-Bone. My van popped her pretty good. She was fine. Me on the other hand, I was greatly annoyed.

There are two things that really annoy me and put me over the edge. For as long as I can remember there has been nothing worse to me than a kick in the shin or a slap in the face.

I would have been fine in the crash except for the airbag deployments and safety belt restraints. The bag in the steering wheel punched me in the belly, which would have been OK by itself, but I got a powder burn from the discharge across my middle just above the seat belt. I don't like that. I think the burning smell might have been my own bacon.

The real trauma (AND ANNOYANCE) came from the lower airbag which exploded its plastic encasement directly into my shins. Getting hit in the shins bloodied, bruised and burned me up. I consider this all to be a slap in the face since it was the safety features mandated and installed by the government and auto industry that caused all of my personal damage. VERY annoying. I bet the insurance guys are in on the joke too.


Safety features caused my only damage. How fitting. Do I have to mention how bad the bandages coming off is going to be because of the tape on hair thing? My near future looks teary. I have a dental appointment on Wednesday too.

Lunch

I just finished a half dozen ice cream sandwiches. Several varieties too! Vanilla ice cream with chocolate cookie. Chocolate ice cream with vanilla cookie. Chocolate and vanilla mixed ice cream with one chocolate cookie and one vanilla cookie. Strawberry cheesecake ice cream with vanilla cookies.

It's great being all growed up.

My next mission is to find the delicious cookie used for the ice cream sandwiches. I've never seen that cookie for sale anywhere without the ice cream. I think it might be a good cookie all by itself and I want to buy some. Any ideas where to purchase them? C'mon now, help a brother out!