Snow

Last winter it only snowed here… Once?  Maybe twice.  What was cool about the second one was that afforded us a White Christmas.  Something I haven’t seen in a long time.

Supposed to snow again, I suppose that’s why I reminded of this-and what still sort of bothers me about it.

We don’t live in the nicest of places, and considering most people in this town are just as financially limited, that’s the bulk of the housing out here.

We see a lot-and I mean a lot-of eviction notices taped to mailboxes.   There are days they’ll slap two or three up at the same time.  Gotta be depressing to find that sort of thing waiting for you.  Even if you know you should expect it.

I had yet to see anyone get “thrown out”.

But the other day, coming home from lunch, I got into the parking lot to find someone had been ejected.  Or rather, their things had been.

Someone had gone into their apartment and carried everything out-piled it in the parking lot, in the snow and ice, and just left it there.  Who knows how much of it that had been there was already taken.  (Bit of thievery around here, too.)

I’d like to think the person just left behind what they couldn’t carry in their car.  A bed, couch, table-bookshelves and big lamps-hard to pack that into a little vehicle if you’re desperate and have to vacate-but can’t afford to move any more than you could afford the rent.

I’d like to think that.  But that evening, everything was finally gone-so I suppose they got help from somewhere.

It was just kind of sad to see.  Someone getting thrown out in this kind of weather, in that kind of way…

“Pay your bills, buddy,” I know, but still… It’s darn cold out there.

I wonder if we’ll start getting used to seeing that sort of thing as well.

I hope not.

 

Toast

Okay, so I’ve never been good with toast.

We don’t have a toaster, so we do it the good-ol-fashioned way.  Broiler, pan, bread = toast!

Right?

Not if I’m involved.

Getting breakfasts ready for the next few days, and I have to toast bread.

Okay, so knowing myself, I typically plant myself right next to the open door.  The broiler could have been on 15 mins for all I know or care, but the minute the pan goes in, I better be parked with my nose near it.

I’ve done two rounds of toasting, put a third in (cuz I had the stuff to make a 3rd sammich) and… *sniff… Sniiiiiiiiiiif!* “Omg!  That’s burnt toast!”

And here is how I’m rolling.

Because even though I will char bread beyond recognition, I’ve not once priorly had to open an oven and douse flames.

As I just now had to do!

I can cook decent things, damnit!  Why is it I set toast on fire?!

Windows open, but this stink will probably take… a while to get rid of.

…

And Bungle will get home at 4 am and it will still be lingering, and he’ll take a whiff, then ask… “Did you set some bread on fire?”

Oh, what’s sadder..?

The fact this link to an All American Hero will die faster than the people he killed? [x]

Or the fact that this reporter uses bullet points?

(or the fact that I so just gnawed on that so-called reporting job because of that?)

“thank you microsoft, interwebs, and the template option of!  I got…uhm…a….[off mic muffled:   “w23534?  @2342rwerwsdfg!~!!  soiutgwoeirhei!  eggowieur-Google!  23oiuwhioc!  Ty1”

sic:  “I was just feeling it!”

mmHmm. They felt it too.  Trust me, they felt a bit of something.

“seboihsdrowh  woeiruwoeu sdlich!”

Whatever.  I think that was the iPod manual for updating a library.

…

No, I didn’t ‘get that either.

I.E. all nonsense shit.  And most always:  “Expensive nonsense shit.”

The best kind, though!!

Eh…?

The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can’t help it.

              –  Leo Rosten

Uhm… I think I saw the word “professional” in there, and believe me… “Not being able to help it” is what makes you a writer, sure-but never spots you as “professional”.

Money does that!

😉

Not every “Biker” is a Smart Biker.

I came across this a few happy-holi-days ago.

Situation:

Empty road-very empty.  I needed to turn left, was a rather quick realization, but I looked in the rear and side mirror, hit the light, and shifted.  And suddenly…

The biker that was driving 60+ mph to reach the light around me was cut off.

I seem to recall something in driver safety about watching anyone ahead of you.  I follow that rule to save my own ass.  I watch forward traffic more than I do any around me.  A safe driver does not exceed their [ahead] speeds unless you are on a highway-and only then do you pass on the left, not the bloody right, as seems to be the case with these “bikers” as well.

Regardless, on an empty road and crossing, this guy gunned it to speed around me to prove he was faster than my car, and I was shifting a lane at a red light.  Okay, so I approach a red light easily, I don’t gun it.  (My Mazda would squeal tires and buck into traffic if I did, believe me.  It’s a mean, temperamental little aqua monster that does not take kindly to 1st gear.)

The first reaction of this guy, in a terribly funny Yankee accent, was to scream, “You fucking faggot!”

Which I immediately giggled at.  Because as I later remarked, “Why was that his first reaction?  He had no idea who was driving.  He assumed a ‘faggot’, who knows why.  But it was his first reaction to question the ‘manhood of a driver’.”   How revealing of his flaws!

Bungle sort of frowned at me, and asked, “Is that the first time you’ve been called a faggot?”

“Yes!  And-wow!  I might actually cherish that!”

The red light we had clashed upon was a slow one.  Which meant that this guy’s bad display had to be extended.  He had no clue who might pop out of that car, really.  We were in a bad spot of town, and a crazy cracked out passenger could have sprung from the window with a gun.  An ego-angry driver might have followed.  Better keep up the ridiculous banter.  So the guy ran out of steam, or breath, in about a half a minute.  After screaming about my manhood, and how inadequate I was with my d@#k, he ran out of things to say off of the top of his head.  A few quiet seconds after, I thought, “Okay, time for him to have looked at my tag.  Really pay attention to this car.  And any stickers on it!  He wouldn’t know BBQ if it hit him in the head with a brisket, but let’s not read too much into this maniac.  Wait for it-wait for it!”

“Go back to ____!”

“There it is!” I crowed.  “He was a little late on the delivery, but he got there eventually!”

Not only did he get hoarse while roaring at the back-end of my vehicle, but he was revving his engine, screaming profanities to me and every other driver in the area, and a few stragglers gawking on a sidewalk, but he had to endure a 3 minute red light that was not going to let him off easy.

The light changed, but as we were all turning left, we all creeped about a foot forward and then had to wait for oncoming traffic.  More torture for this guy.  He was skidding up his sneakers (this guy was a weekend-rider) and once off the white line, he did all in his power to nearly hit the tail end of Honda Pilot for not paying attention to anything in his determination to toss a bone.

Then he got caught at the next red light, and we were behind him.

And he shut up pretty quick.

I imagine because he really had no clue what kind of “faggot” was in that car, and if that creature was packing a firearm and would step out on him at the first chance.

These guys seem to be a trend out here, for some reason.  Pardon me for saying, but I know “biker types”.  They don’t get their Docker’s in a wad and act hard, and they don’t do all in their power to bring down the heavens for something they had a hand in.  I well know to look out for anyone on a motorcycle, and I appreciate the danger for any rider.  But there is something a little off about a handful of these guys out here.

Bungle warily asked, “You see this a lot?”

“Time to time.  These guys have something to prove.”  I dunno what, but I said something was short, and he laughed, and the guy would have probably gotten even more mad if he did hear me remark upon it.  I already suspect he had a small coronary when he reached his destination and yelled some more about his trip there.

“Bikers” so-called out here, or as they want to be, think that being on two wheels means you can drive 30+ the speed limit and weave in and out of traffic like a loomer.  They nearly smash into people, cut off people already on cell-phones, split lanes, and yell at anyone who blows a horn at them for being as ignorant as the texter that nearly wiped them out.  I’ve come to find about this area:  the more black leather the guy is wearing, the more his taxbreak, the worse he’s going to drive.  Bike, Car, whatever.

Seems to hold water.

But as we did note, because it was something that had to be noted even during the hopeful burning:  “Hard to take a guy seriously when he’s screaming at you in a weak yankee accent.”

Maybe he had a gun… With the ego problem he had, I’m sure he was holding something.

But to be quite honest, I was glad that we weren’t carrying a gun of our own.

And they call this one of the “Road-Rage Cities of the World”.  I can see that.  But I am starting to suspect it is more about that bruised up thing some males consider an ego than anything else.

I suppose what really did surprise me…

I have a lot of respect for anyone on a motorcycle.  It’s dangerous.  I know firsthand through family what can be done with reckless drivers and inattention-heck, even deer are “careless”.  I know to be cautious and keep an eye out.  It’s always unnerving when one comes across a biker that does not follow any rules.  They jar me.  They scare me more than any texter does.  They’re more dangerous than a soccer mom bitching on a cellphone.  That, Sir, is how you get run over.

But I’m learning out here that two wheels and a compact 4-cycle don’t mean the owner of the bike is paying any more attention than the driver of a car.  They’re mostly out to be “Bad-ass”, at any cost.  Speed, speed, speed, and appearance.

He’s going to get run over, I can put money on that.

I am just darn glad it wasn’t me that twisted him up in my wheel well.

Don’t speed, you “bikers”-left or right lane, or proving to a light that is already red.  Showing off really can’t be that important.  What the hell is the point in that anyway?  You drive like a moron and you put yourself at risk.  That you can’t blame on traffic.  That you can’t blame on anyone else but yourself.  Be as responsible-just like we all hope every driver of any kind is to be.  It’s fucking expected of you.

I am pretty proud of my new title, though.

Jacky Green <—Faggot.

Hee!

The sad reality of Bad Drivers

I don’t imagine many people realize how close they do cut to all of us, let alone people you know and love.  Who wants to think about it?

We all toss a bone or at least curse under our breaths, when some idiot driver does something idiotic on the road around us.  Who really thinks they’ll be the one to make the hit.

I went into work a few days ago and was told that one of my manager’s cousins had been killed in a “traffic collision”.

She’s – twenty something.  Younger side of it.  I think the cousin was younger.  I vaguely remember her talking about the girl before, too.  Which made it surreal.

Her (cousin’s) boyfriend was leaving a sports event, she in the passenger seat, he driving like those idiots you see, and after weaving around traffic (people he passed and narrowly avoided which had stopped to help at the scene, as well as witness to the police) weaved his lane a little too close – as we’ve all tensed up to see them do – and nicked the car.  Now, nick a car’s front with your back, as your clipping almost 100 mph?  Ever watch NASCAR racing?  Ever see what a “nick” does at high speeds?  Ever care to translate that to the public highway?

Nasty things happen.

That nicked car spun and hit others.  His car was flipped several times – so much so that the cousin’s seat was ripped clean from the frame of the body – yes, that’s a lot of force – just from her body absorbing that impact in the seatbelt.  Killed her instantly.  The occupants of the over vehicle, a family with children, were all listed as critical.

He walked away with a minor scrape on his arm.

…

“Drunk?” I asked.

“He said he wasn’t,” I was told.

“Well, that’s classic drunk scenario.  They walk away fine after killing others.  Toxicology will get back.  And I hope they burn his ass up with that vehicular manslaughter charge.”

“They’re waiting to see if the kids die.”

That… Was an unsettling sort of statement, I felt.

“Wait to see if the kids die” – damn… Is that what it comes down to…

There was the one person who played devil’s advocate, “Why’d she get in the car anyway?”

“Don’t blame her!” I got all pissed.  “I’ll bet you he was showing his drunk ass at that event, and showed his ass more to her when she insisted he not drive!  He probably got mean and nasty and abusive and bowed up if she said she’d rather ride with someone else – was probably why he showed out even more, trying to exert that ego! – we know these kinds of guys, don’t you try to deny that!”

“…Well…”

“Don’t you dare,” I jabbed a finger.

“Yeah…”

I was pissed to hear it.

…

And no, I don’t know yet if the “kids died”.

I think they did.  As if that changes the fact that his overcompensating ass killed his girlfriend.

On one hand, I do realize what he is going to have to live with.  Soboring up to that fact?  Surely that is going to mean something to him… But I don’t know.  I also know many drunk or wreckless drivers who have destroyed other lives that still carry on.

And the pessimist in me says he’ll be back on the road in time, driving a spanking nice new ’22 model.  No, that’d be the car, not the weapon-but it’s all the same thing, really.

Either or

Nindy got thrown into it…

I’ve been holding that one back for a while.  But it it got posted, and the next propelled.  Why such a pause!

Most likely because Schiele’s dirty little secrets are still brewing.  That crafty little creature!  To this day he has things he’s hiding from even me!

I can’t figure him out!

“Course not,” they all smile at me, knowing and sly.  “Rohebeth isn’t that easy.  Never was?  Never will be.  Get it-got it-good.”

*course, no worries-we always figure these ‘things’ out, now don’t we!

Lol!

So listening to investigative conversations going down in the next room, I think in the relative, and my brain came up with this one:

“You are the tongue in the serpentine grass!”

And the minute I said it, I laughed!

What the heck!  Dramatics-dramatics!  I love it!

Driving Piss’Doff’Dom

You know why people drive like assholes?

Because you will compensate for them.

Admit it.  You always do.  You slam on the brakes, you swerve into the (safe) lane, you even signal and alert them all…

Heck, you might get feisty and blow the horn to smally signify, “Hey, now, stop that behaviour, you bad one, you!”

You yell deaf into a windshield, (I saw this one full visual and in a way had to laugh for understanding entirely!), “Learn to drive, mutherfuker!”

When you can read those words 2 cars down in opposing traffic, you can sense the situation!

Pull outs, traffic cutters, tail-gaters, lane-jugglers-you are the safe one – you let them do it.  Why?  Because you are a safety conscious driver. 

You’re accommodating shitty drivers.  And shitty drivers are expecting that. 

It’s funny [read as cold laugh]  to me that the assholes are swiftly outnumbering the accommodating.  Course, I don’t like being on the road at these times.  Kinda scary.

Wednesday morning was predicted a bad driving day.  Our state hit record counts for accidents in the select hours – we creamed out about 215 people in 3.   No wait, vehicles.  Who knows how many statistics-oh, pardon, people!-got marked when all of that went down.

They had one major highway “littered with wrecks” and another shut down entirely. 

Mostly because no one could figure out how to fucking slow their cars down.  “How not to drive 85mph”!  should be tacked onto any new DMV lessons/tests.

I considered it[the news] mildly.  I wasn’t surprised.

Friday morning (this=two days later), I’m on the road and mildly consider, “Hey, a few of these bad drivers got weened out!”

No.  Hardly.

You think someone would bear in mind the stats of the past mornings.  Ya know, several dozen people dead because of shitty drivers – you’d kinda wanna pay attention, right?  Maybe be a little more sensible about how you handle that machine you’re tucked into the bowels of.  Right?

No.

What do I run across?

The one day I have to get into work, and I get into the traffic bumps due to someone that…

Hmm.

There was a box-truck sitting (or rather careened) into the sloping grass ditch median.   Another was, I later found, parked against the right hand guard rail.

Between then both was…

Something.  I don’t know what it was.  Or what it used to be.  I just know that the people inside of it were dead.

Cops and medics don’t stand around looking for the best place to put a road flare if someone is alive in a car.  Someone is standing at the mangled edge, offering encouragement, offering support, just offering spirit-something to someone gasping for air inside of the technological mass. 

This thing looked like a tuna-can after I’d stomped the shit out of it.  And bought it for 15 cents and had my cat turn it down.

Probably an ’05 or later model.  Probably had great insurance coverage.  The wheels [rims] were nice, and the paint job was too.  That’s about all I could really tell about this thing.   I hope that the family had great coverage as well.  Because if you are speeding past one box truck because they are going to slow for you, and smack into the side of another that is going faster than you, only to spin yourself around and smash back into the truck you are trying to pass up? 

Well, I can only hope you weren’t breeding Stupid.  Because it killed you.  And most likely any kids you had travelling in the backseat watching whatever sad excuse for parenting you’re tubing into their seat-tv. 

It’s weird to drive by that kinda thing.  Especially when you must drive really slow, and automatically worry about your tires popping on their debris.  How inhuman is that?

And how sick is it to think, “I see you every morning driving like a fucking maniac.  What made you think that wouldn’t eventually happen?”

Vehicles accommodate so much these days.  Drivers think they are safe in something that… Really just offers an illusion.  Illusion sells.  And “it” works if you drive it like you are supposed to.  Most people don’t even know what that means.

Just bear in mind, all, if you drive like a jackass, you are going to crack out on the highway like one.

We’ll all drive by, and the road flares will be set out, and we’ll try to figure out what the hell you were driving, because we cant’ even figure the mangled heap out-

We’ll recognize the fact that every responding authority is just… Standing aside:  ie: you are dead, and they really don’t want to hang around staring at your cooling corpse until the ambulance shows up to drag you off in a bag-God can only hope your spouse drove the kids that day.

It bugs me.  Really bugs me.  These new/er cars are smarter and faster and savvy–it’s demanded, sure.  Idiot-proofing.

[I sit there every day and learn how these machines are dumbing down drivers – and why it’s considered necessary as well as demanded – and I know exactly why the highways are the way they are – and why cars are pushing hard to accomodate Dumb.  “That’s the answer?” I marvel.  “Make the machine smarter?”]

But even as they are compensating for a lot-what the fuck are they really doing?  Is that what matters?   A vehicle can cover for so much, but it can’t do a damn thing for you when you push the limits – it’s out of programmed ideas -it tried  its your ass in the sling then.  And believe me, the overcompensation on these cars is enough to overwhelm when the matter gets pushed.

You really up for that?

I don’t think that people really understand what they are putting their lives in the “amps of”.  Yeah, it does what you want to muscle it around to do, but believe me… That muscle isn’t yours.  And a machine can only carry you so far.

Best you realize that.  And stop thinking a fucking computer makes you invincible.

”]

“Like, rewind that-“

Every time and again, I do get angry.

I suppose I tend to “Show” angry out here… Hmm.

This one hit me. [Especially hard tonight]

My day is [was] rolling well-fast, busy, all about it – you can’t hang?  Well, I can hang w/ what I must to get you there… Got it?  We’re all on the same grid, we’ll get to the point!  I’m one of those that so digs on being a Team Player – I always opt for an effort, I appreciate the coop, I love a shared level and the appreciation and respect that comes with it [albeit rare]  “Work w/ me, I work w/ you, yeah?”  Its’ an appreciative effort by all to – well, expand and improve!

*[Piss off on the job, and I will tell you to do that just that.  My appreciation only applies to the applicable.]

But when I  come home after that [the] drama, stories, real life clashing and bashing and beat downs and horrible nonsense-power-trips – and…

“Remember this put upon that was eating their own @@#$___?” I was jarred back into an… Rarely discussed bit of Reality.

Even the most depraved and insane will not reduce to that level without [primitive] reason.  That is  the natural instinct to survive.  Bare bones.  You will eat your own skin to survive at that point.  (Okay, that’s extreme, but you will eat your own … Something…)

And you are considered a “Care-taker” that you reduce that creature of your care to that level? [I am giving my tax money to you to do that to someone?!]

And by “Creature” I am coldly labelling a Human Being?

There is a special place in Hell.

And believe…. It’s very special.  It’s Core.

Horrible burning and gnashing and gnawing, I almost wish I were there to chew on your horrible rotten just to make sure you were suffering for what you did— [Psycho moment there, but-!  Insurance!]

I’m so often revolted, reviled, disturbed, disgusted-wow how many words in our metaphoric langauge  can I use to describe this sensation [of the reviled]?

I don’t know.  We have so many [synonyms].

But when I run up on this the way I tend to…

…

Special place in Hell.

That’s all I can think of.

No, you won’t find justice here.  Too many Human loop-holes.

But you will burn for depriving an equal of a mature age {of any relative age, really!] down to 65 lbs and eating her own {!! Warning Expletive Point Used!!}  shit.

And you well deserved it.

I am so often times horrified at what people do to eachother.  But I at the same time must bear in mind, “Why are you so fucking insane that you feel you must do this?”

But I won’t credit you with someone else’s insanity.

I can’t.

I just can’t.

Despite all I read and “know” and research and “Digest”….

I can’t.

Sickness.  Of a kind a pill (even a cheap ass Canadian one) will not cure you of.

It’s infuriating that one soul can do that to another.

Maybe it’s the fact that we no longer recognize that small factor in it that makes it easy. 

Certainly seems to be the case.

…

Okay, I admit, that’s a bout the only excuse I can allow:  You are so f*d you don’t know any better.

But how much is that really allowing?

Really?

We’re all broken down, beat down, jacked and whacked and nuts in our own–regard—

We all have our scars and our burns and chewed out, gnawed upon pieces of our souls and lives-

But does that give you an excuse?

There are times I’m flat out f*ing emberassed to possess this soul capable of learning beyond molding an intricate network of tunnels. 

We build cities that we burn to the foundations, at the costs of lives, yet for our goals-

We pardon the misery of the upcoming future because-well, we are offering money in exchange for it….

What the hell are we really condoning here, and should we honestly be applauded for these “Efforts”?

I expect so much more out of the Human race.

I really hope to see so much more than just one more animal on the horizon.

I don’t often see it..

So if you aren’t tearing at someoens’ abdomen while they stand before your Spartan judges, maybe take pause…]

Or fuck it, why bother?

Never matters, right?

The “Trickle Down Effect” doesn’t apply only to your stock market.  It applies to the treatment of the creatures that are breathing the same way you are.

Probably one of my most favourite quotes ever:  “I won’t waste myself on you.”

 ~

`

 ~

Maybe because the Irony to me is that I[‘m one to] care.  Beyond what seems to be accepted these days…

I am Antiquated for giving a shit.