there are many things wrong in the world. aside from the atrocities of killing innocent people, being seemingly quite entangled in a huge corporate collapse and then not agreeing to release documents [because you're telling the truth, honest], and delivering what was truly a lackluster speech, having pomp and circumstance [cousins in the back row waiting to ruin your reelection chances should you not beat your hands numb in faux-appreciation.] elongate a ten minute diatribe on the merits of destroying as many people as expensively as possible and with as little public input as possible, into a drawn out festival of who can suck up the loudest and most at every bumble and rat-faced glance at a different teleprompter.

what i mean to make mention of are the horrible realities of living somewhere around area i do. one: it is january and i have on a pair of shorts and a shirt i like to categorize [and do well to do so methinks] as cabana wear, and the windows are open, and i am on the verge of sweating. what is fucking wrong with this winter? i'm asking. for some reason i keep wanting to call this a 'nuclear winter' as i imagine it's warm being near a nuclear explosion. of course that is something completely different and cold and dark, but my association got messed up somewhere. but seriously folks, this is not right. while stepping out of the shower just a bit ago, and having the humidity keep me from being able to dry myself very effectively [which by the way, what is with people who air dry? i think i don't get it mainly because i would want to in the summer but humidity does not allow it, so nevermind..], i started worrying what if my specific little area was on a course to have seventy degree [er, 21C] weather for a year or so straight. i would go crazy, move, or die in a large industrial freezer somewhere. i'm not a fan of any season that just keeps going, and it's been fairly summerish for the past, oh, almost a year. that's not good. probably if we keep burning oil to drive away from environment saving treaties and places where they plan to make new clean[-er] fuel options, and bumble our way through horrendous speeches while our second-in-command, um, hospital patient cum vice president, hides documents, everything will be okay. also, it is a good thing i don't remember what snow looks like, because i will never see it again.

the other thing perplexing me at the moment [beside that article on the higgs boson i just read, fascinating by the way] is this place i went today. it is called "unclaimed baggage" and maybe you have one near you and/or you know the premise, but for those who don't let me elaborate just a bit. they get all the luggage and cargo that is without attentive owner and then sell it for one hundred per cent [you know, 1820's anti-diarrheal medicine.. haha] profit. you know this as "piracy". even though robin hood's mantra of steal from the rich; give to the poor isn't without flaw, it's got to be better than take everybody's booty, scratch it up and make it smell weird, sell it for a bit less than retail and then bathe in the loot pouring in, doesn't it? don't get me wrong, if anyone ever loved pirates and the pirate life, I very likely am one of them, but I saw no eye patches, no parrots, and no missing limbs replaced with wooden or silvered prostheses. most of the stuff was, for the former owner, well lost though. especially if they received some sort of insurance payment for it from where ever they lost it. [though i'd be less than happy to find some of my stuff in there, and more so were i to want it back and it be under the arm of the nearest discriminating purchaser.] it seems at least a few people lost entire shipments of things. vitamins, alex rodriguez cd's, 70s and 80s jeans, and of course huge vats of mayonnaise. [yes that's curdling, both it and my blood.] also, a few people seem to have lost entire cd collections and their emo loss is my gain. two belle and sebastian albums, an ep, and an elliot smith album. the entire lot of compact discs, and by that i mean the metric ton of them, of which some 998.4kg were shite [musically], had to have been dropped in some sort of sharp sand, because the amount of scratches on every single one was beyond comprehension. who treats their cd's thusly? pirates perhaps.


"third verse, different from the first
jackie is a punk, judy is a runt,
they both went down to frisco
joined the s-l-a-eeiieeh.." -t.r.


< << < : : >> > >
number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here