Auschwitz in my head

lies...all a stupid desperate lie...why am i trying...they all know...homeless loser freak...they CAN'T know...they'll get me...cold marching machines...no way out...nowhere to turn...faceless walls...terror...insanity...it's over...music is dead...they're looking at you...please let it end...no more lying...never good enough...never touching...cripple...they don't want me...if they find me they'll kill me...no one says my name...i cease to exist...help me...the world is all dark

The Trans Am Brat

There was time when I held a temp job as a "tape monkey", as I called it. All these Fortune 500 companies use mainframe computers that back up their data onto tapes, each one about the size of a VCR tape. A company can easily have tens of thousands of tapes in its library and since several companies usually share the same facility the overall library can be upwards of a million tapes. These facilities work 24/7 and the tape monkeys feed in the tapes to the machines and then file them back at the end of the shift.

The tapes are dusty and the facility is cold to keep the computers from overheating. And there's LOTS of walking. Not the greatest of jobs but I've done worse. And while there were console operators there that actually had real jobs, all us tape monkeys worked through a temp agency. Each of us arrived through a different road. I remember that young, black girl working there while pregnant (!) and the long-haired, red-headed rock and roll guy. There was also the Drunk.

The Drunk, whom I liked a lot, had had a rough go. He told me stories of blacking out, getting in his car naked and driving around only to be hauled in by the cops. This happened more than once and he lost his license. He was in the process of trying to rebuild his life. Naturally, seeing a man with shattered nerves, I had to torture him. I would often take empty tape cases and drop them right behind where he was standing. They make a THUNDEROUS noise when they hit the elevated computer floor and I would walk away laughing as he cursed me. Yeah, I'm shattered, too.

(OK, so I picked the Bandit version)
One night as I walked through the parking lot into the building, I noticed a shiny new Trans Am. I like fast cars, I want fast cars and I thought, "Fuck, wonder who that belongs to?" Hard to make payments for a car like that on 8 bucks an hour. Turns out there was a new temp in town: the Trans Am Brat. He had mommy and daddy supporting him to ensure he maintained the lifestyle he deserved. OK, I thought, whatever. But there was trouble a-brewing!

The Drunk hated the Brat - and vice versa. Although they never technically said, "Fuck you" to each other, it always sounded like that's what they were saying. The Drunk resented the Brat's free ride and the Brat bristled at the idea he was getting anything he didn't deserve. Finally, it erupted into a big showdown. All us tape monkeys were sitting in the control room with the console operator during a slow period. The Drunk and the Brat were having it out.

I said nothing as I watched the argument. I was secretly rooting for the Drunk but the Brat had no clue on anything so I knew it was hopeless to try and make any point to him. The Brat was defiantly making his case, though, and finally he addressed us all. He told us of how he and his friends would meet at a coffee shop and discuss current issues. "I live on a completey different plane than you people!" he declared. At this, I put on my best honest-to-gosh face and said: "Wow, you live on a plane??"


I was getting ready to burst out laughing when I noticed his Gollum-like eyes just staring at me. I thought, "Surely, he's not buying this." But the Brat just kept staring so I decided to hold my expression and see what happened. Finally, he declared triumphantly, "See! This is what I'm talking about!" and resumed his argument.

Ron, the console operator there, just about fell onto the floor laughing. I don't know if anyone else caught on but he sure did. The Brat never did. I'm sure at his little psuedo-Algonquin round table that night, he and his buddies were laughing at me for my remark. "How could anyone be so dumb?? How could anyone be so clueless??" Hear! Hear! How often it is people think they are talking about others when really they speak only of themselves (heck, half this blog is me railing against my own conservatism).

They burn money don't they?

The logic is irrefutable:

CROWD:

A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch! A witch! Burn her! Burn her! Burn her! We've found a witch! We've found a witch! A witch! A witch! A witch!

VILLAGER #1:

We have found a witch. May we burn her?

BEDEVERE:

Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.

VILLAGER #1:

Are there?

VILLAGER #2:

Ah?

VILLAGER #1:

What are they?

CROWD:

Tell us! Tell us!...

BEDEVERE:

Tell me. What do you do with witches?

VILLAGER #2:

Burn!

VILLAGER #1:

Burn!

CROWD:

Burn! Burn them up! Burn!...

BEDEVERE:

And what do you burn apart from witches?

VILLAGER #1:

More witches!

VILLAGER #3:

Shh!

VILLAGER #2:

Wood!

BEDEVERE:

So, why do witches burn?

[pause]

VILLAGER #3:

B--... 'cause they're made of... wood?

BEDEVERE:

Good! Heh heh.

CROWD:

Oh, yeah. Oh.

BEDEVERE:

So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood?

VILLAGER #1:

Build a bridge out of her.

BEDEVERE:

Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone?

VILLAGER #1:

Oh, yeah.

RANDOM:

Oh, yeah. True. Uhh...

BEDEVERE:

Does wood sink in water?

VILLAGER #1:

No. No.

VILLAGER #2:

No, it floats! It floats!

VILLAGER #1:

Throw her into the pond!

CROWD:

The pond! Throw her into the pond!

BEDEVERE:

What also floats in water?

VILLAGER #1:

Bread!

VILLAGER #2:

Apples!

VILLAGER #3:

Uh, very small rocks!

VILLAGER #3:

Uh, churches! Churches!

VILLAGER #2:

Lead! Lead!

ARTHUR:

A duck!

CROWD:

Oooh.

BEDEVERE:

Exactly. So, logically...

VILLAGER #1:

If... she... weighs... the same as a duck,... she's made of wood.

BEDEVERE:

And therefore?

VILLAGER #2:

A witch!

VILLAGER #1:

A witch!

CROWD:

A witch! A witch!...

So why don't  we burn people to death anymore?? You could say it's because it's against the law, but then, so is murder and that happens every day. The Good Book says "Everything is permissible - but not everything is constructive." (1 Corinthians 10:23). So you see, there's nothing really stopping us. And there was a time when we thought it absolutely necessary.

The reason, of course, is because we know better. Same thing will happen with money. We will wonder why we ever let it rule our lives. "What were they thinking??" But now we say, "We've GOT to have money. There IS NO OTHER WAY! Without it nothing will work!" But we speak of money as we should of love. Eventually, though, it will go the way of witch burning - just too dumb a concept to continue. And in the future they will be writing satirical skits about us...

Doctor:
   A baby is born!
Mother:
   Yes, our baby!
Father:
   A baby boy!
Doctor:
   But the baby has no money!
Mother:
   Bad baby!
Father:
    Worthless baby!
All:
   Get money, baby, or you'll just have to die!

Homeless bastard wins lottery!

So...what would happen if Mr. Ich Bin Ein Berliner here won the lottery, if I got my own Get Out of Hell Free card? Would all crusades cease? Or, in the immortal words of Hans Gruber, would he be content to merely be "sitting on the beach earning 20%"? Fuck yeah!

It would happen like this:

1. Declare myself Shogun of Texas.
2. Head to the Maserati dealership.
3. Print up 25 shirts saying, "Fuck you, I'm rich".
4. Buy at least five places to live.
5. Spend a year on Thunder Island.
6. Build a Japanese castle.
7. List my occupation as Dreamer on tax form.
8. Massive funding for prisoner rights.
9. Hate myself for losing Debby.
   
10. Still be homeless...
    

I met a man with a joint today

I and my fellow brethren shared his doobage and talked in the afternoon sun. Sitting on the grass (no pun intended) we spoke of the world and life and dreams. He was well spoken and had clear thoughts. He wasn't out to change the world. It was just that he couldn't breathe in this society. Normally he stayed in more rural spots, the better to keep away from everyone, but he comes into the city on occasion for a pot run. In some ways he was even more dedicated than I am - a man true to his spirit. When the Bible speaks of a time when the last will be first, I believe he will be near the head of the line. A nice, friendly afternoon. Thanks.

Free speech for morons too

I got this from an alleged "conservative" blog (as we know from a previous posting there is no such thing as a conservative) :

I feel that Americans need to have the experience of suffering, so that they can have a greater understanding of the world.

Wow, isn't that the same thing terrorists say? (or is she just a bleeding heart conservative?)

OK, lady, gimme your address and I'll come over with a baseball bat to enlighten your ass. First I'll smash up all your precious possessions, then I'll knock you around a bit just to make sure you see the light. Because, yeah, there just aint enough suffering in this world. Think of it as a bout of conservative compassion. Moron.

See, there are two types of people in the world: those who believe in helping people and those who believe in hurting people. Of course, perverts like the person above will say they are helping you by hurting you. Please, spare me that kind of "help".

Happy New Year?

Woke up in the alley with a boner this morning. God I hate that. I can't let my thoughts turn to wanting a life. It's just too painful. Every day I have to pass people on the street with lives of their own, living in a completely different world than mine. I live in their shadow world. To have a life like theirs is inconceivable to me. And yet, I still cry out for it.

A cop came by and asked me some questions right after I woke up. He didn't make me leave (shocking) but when he came back later he seemed really pissed I was still there. I scurried away and back into the "normal" people. I can't take this anymore. If 2006 is my last year that's OK. I'm just too tired. And God wants me dead anyway.