Wednesday Again

Once Again

Once Again, I find myself facing the blank screen, trying to wring from newly discovered brain cells something decent, something whole enough to claim as mine.

It’s been more than two years since a posting and I know for a fact there are at least three persons in the State of Florida who simply assumed I was trampled under in that Conneticuit (sp?) heavy metal death club (I know I’m an asshole, but I have to say the whole thing was very Darwinian – rockers who continue to sport the Eighties-doo, beware) or just possibly crushed under 100 million tons of the first World Trade Center … and yes, there will be a second. But, sadly, nope; I’m still here – maybe not kickin’, or anything … but. Huh. That seemed sadly anti-climactic. Story of my life.

So ….. where to begin (again)?

As all four of you know, I tended to have something of a beef with NYC’s previous politicians and his, er, their administration. So where have two years and change gotten us? To a millionaire from a city that Isn’t Even Fucking New York and runs his home-away-from-home like a business doomed to burn to the ground! A Man who outlaws smoking in all workplaces – including bars and restaurants -in the Five Boroughs (Miami, being the sixth and outside his control, escapes legislation)! While I could fill five columns with the NoSmo nonsense, let me just simply state that every bartender I queried was a confirmed smoker and personally wanted to butt out on Hizzoners’ eyeball. And if he had gotten his way, in no public park in the city would you be able to light your future cancer. Was he worried about ventilation?

Whatever. That topic waits til next time.

What else have I been doing with all this time? Getting paid for nothing, for one thing. Sitting on a couch weekly and receiving a check for it every Wednesday is an insiduous plan. The only work I have done for the past fifteen consecutive weeks has been a ten minute phone call to the NYState Unemployment ‘Tel-Help’ line, voiced by that crazy robot maid from the Jetsons. No wonder the unemployment rate was skyrocketing – smart people were finally catching on and taking back their paychecks.

Also took a job at an art auction house / gallery, part-time, where (get this) I spied the following:

  • One (1) strand of brown electrical extension cord, modified to power Twenty (20) 2-watt X-mas bulbs, evenly spaced. beginning bidding price: seventy-thousand dollars
  • One (1) four-foot-by-four-foot wood-framed stretched canvas, evenly white washed. beginning bidding price: one million to one-point-five million dollars
  • One (1) very large pencil scribbling, Preperation time, half-hour – Preperation time for autistic child also suffering from ADD, one-and-one-half hours. Suggested Out Of Pocket Expenses – Exorbidant and Entirely Unknown
  • I am so getting into the art game.

    Enough for Now. This is getting ridiculous. I’m going to start ranting in character of Dr. Thompson Pretty Soon and I’m already beginning to use his Capitalization Techniques. (“It’s always easier to use someone elses’ voice than your own:” From the Journal of Natty Bishop, Esq. … wasn’t that deep?) So for now, Be Assured the World is full of Pigs. And They are all out to get You; I bid you a-dyoo (y’know, like the French say – ‘goodbye’).

    Next Time: More Canada than You could Shake an Evergreen Branch At! Why Isn’t Anyone Looking For Hussein? And What Happened to Field Day on Long Island (and why isn’t it bothering Radiohead)? Even … More … Fucking …. Canada!

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