The  Ludicrous Adventures of Captain Blogfodder.

It was 4:00 am in the morning, and
Peter Porker was both tired and wired.  Anyone would be–anyone
who had been up 23 straight hours on the computer, sustained only by
dedication, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Diet Pepsi, and Pixie
Sticks.  What’s more, Peter wasn’t just anyone. 
For one thing, he was one of the most intelligent primates on the
planet–Marilyn Dos Equis wrote to HIM for advice.  (Marilyn,
famous “advice to the stupid” columnist writing for Pomade
Magazine, was credited with having THE highest IQ, but that was a
ruse, a conspiracy fomented by the Just Us League, a group of
disillusioned former members of Schmensa and Smartashell, who realized
that having a high IQ made one a target.  Marilyn was well-paid to
be their front person.  She didn’t even have to write the stupid
column herself–it was ghosted by Suede Greysox, a leathery old
Alaskan.)  For another thing, he was an orphan–his parents had
been 60′s protesters who didn’t know when (or how) to give up. 
(They were so retro they still smoked Mexican dirtweed.)  Anyway,
they were in New York City picketing the World Trade Center on THAT
day, carrying signs that said “Bring down this corporate
structure!”  They got their wish–however, a large part of it fell
on them in the process, and Peter became independently wealthy
from the financial settlement.  His folks were flaky, but they DID
have great earning potential, and Peter got 2.3 million tax-free bucks
out of the deal.

Peter was up late being a mod for
rotsem (refuge of the screaming emotional morons), a popular bulletin
board,  He used to moderate their rival, Bumbfhock, but quit,
having become disillusioned when he hacked into their secret files and
discovered that the ad was secretly auctioning off the coveted high
post counts on Ebay.

NEXT time:  Learn more about rotsem and its members, and meet Peter’s step-parents.

Are YOU a doughnut, too?

Kathy (aka SuSu) turned me onto a great essay by Kurt Vonnnegut (yes, the old fart is still alive and kicking).  It was mostly about our addiction to petroleum, but he fluted off  onto other topics including politics.  He pointed out the dualistic fallacy vis a vis Liberal and Conservative.  He said that if you aren’t one or another, “you might as well be a doughnut.”  Well dunk me in coffee, friends, for that makes me a doughnut.

I am all for universal health care and soaking the rich, so that would horrify true Conservatives (the bastards).  But I am totally in favor of the right to keep and bear arms–hell, I sell weapons for a living and usually carry a gun myself–so that  would totally horrify most of my fellow tree-hugging dirt-worshippers.

Labels suck.  At best, they are misleading arbitrary conveniences; at worst, they facilitate genocide.

Life is Good

Sure, there is a lot of heinous shit going on.  The rich white pricks who run this country are mostly liars, thieves, hypocrites, and fools, but what else is new?  So I have two choices–I can accept this situation which I cannot change, or I can let savage indignation lacerate my heart.  So I shall strive to accept things as they are.  Besides, from where I sit right now, life is good.

For one thing, I am having a good day physically, which means that everything is working and nothing hurts more than usual.  It is raining, just enough to give me a day off from my flea market stand but not enough to make driving onerous, so here I am at the Wasilla Library, using one of their fancy computers for free.  I feel good, not just physically, but in every other way.  Having kicked tobacco, pot and booze as of over a year ago, I am free of the guilt, angst, and stink that accompanies those addictions.  Thanks to my sweety, I am on ortho-molecular therapy which has done away with the cravings for those drugs which plagues so many other recovering folks.

But wait, there’s more.  A local cat, who I named Silky, has  bonded with me.  I feed her and she comes into my cabin sometimes–we spent some quality time together this morning–but I did have to draw the line when she jumped into the basket of clean laundry I was putting away. And yesterday, as I was driving up the valley to do laundry and a water run for my ailing sweety and her son, who is spending busy days and nights hosting an on-line tourney, a momma moose and two wee calves ambled across the highway–my heart soared.  Critters–everything from moose to monarch butterflies– are a major source of good vibes for me these days.

Someone once observed that the secret to happiness is not to have what you want, but to want what you have.  That works for me.  I like my extensive wardrobe of used clothes, courtesy mostly of thrift shop bag sales–everything from Harris tweed sportcoats to silk sport shirts.  I like my weapons, especially my lovely little five-shot .22 magnum derringer, which is nestled in a pocket even now.  I like my 13-inch TV/VCR I got courtesy of Fred Meyer last year.  I like my old (1988) car, which is running pretty well at the moment, despite a balky starter solenoid.  I really like my new bifocals–driving is lots easier now that I can read traffic signs.

And I especially like being married to the sweetest,  smartest and sexiest great-grandmother on the planet.  Thanks for everything, darlin’!