August 29, 2009
I know that this isn’t the same America that it was when I was born–hell, I know that it’s not the same America that it was 10 years ago; but the last I looked, it’s still America, and we don’t have a royal class. Why then are we treating The Swimmer like he was Royalty?
Maybe the machiavelians were right–all that matters in politics is giving the community what they demand, regardless of ethics or principle. If the mob demands bread and circuses, you give them bread and circuses. All that matters is getting a slice of the loot and keeping it, and if you can give your supporters the lion’s share, they will love you for it.
August 20, 2009
There are moments when you suddenly realize that you’re in trouble: the red light you ran at two in the morning that results in a traffic citation showing up in the mail, courtesy of a traffic camera you didn’t notice; the phone call you get at 9 P.M. from your boss, asking you to come to work a half-hour early the next day–just to clear up a few details on that report you wrote two months ago; and then there’s the sudden twinge of emotion you feel for someone that you know–you just know–you have no business feeling for that person, a twinge you know will just lead to more trouble.
I was watching the main entrance yesterday when the Journalist came in. We get along okay–we exchange hellos and small talk from time to time, but I would classify her as an acquaintance, not as an actual friend. Yet, when I saw her stop to speak to a man and then kiss him on the cheek, I felt a sudden twinge of jealousy.
I have absolutely no reason to feel jealous of who she sees, or what she does; I can’t even say that I know her well enough to have any real feelings for her–and some of the things I do know about her are definitely negatives in my view: she’s decidedly liberal, a vegetarian, a Democrat, and more than a little presumptive in thinking that people should take her opinions without question. She is attractive–a high 7 to an 8–but there are others who easily outshine her in terms of physical beauty (such as the now departed and much missed Little Ms. Rock Star). I do feel lust for the woman, but not just for her, and I don’t fantasize about her as I do others (like the much prettier Legal Secretary up on 9).
So, why the jealousy?
Like I said–not good.
August 6, 2009
Given that my declaration of death by cancer now appears to be premature–what will this blog be about?
As bad as I am, this guy ( Pa. Gunman ‘Hell-bent’ on Killings, Had 4 Guns ) was in even worse shape. He was in better shape than I am (both financially and physically), yet he’d been on bread-and-water for twenty years.
Twenty Years. Holy Shit. No wonder he wanted to die.
He picked the wrong way to go, of course; if you do the murder-suicide route, nobody will feel a shred of sympathy for your sorry ass. You cease to be a victim the moment you decide to take another life. If he really wanted to make a statement, he would have gone in with a gas can, doused himself in front of them, snarled “Heartless bitches!”, and then hit the flint. That would have fucked with the heads of women all over the country, for years to come.
Not that I endorse suicide–it’s a loser’s way out, with murder-suicide making you even more of a loser. I believe in winning–now more than ever, because there’s no way I’m going to go out like that. I’m going to cut a swath through the fuckable female population of this city like the Golden Horde through the Russian steppe!
I guess I just found a new purpose for this blog.
August 1, 2009
The Rockstar. A young secretary from the fifth floor who looked like a young Britney Spears (by young, I mean “Oops, I Did It Again” Britney), with ash-blond hair, a 10-megawatt smile, and a personality so sweet you’d think that she had just arrived in the City. She was everybody’s fantasy girl at work–men and a few of the women alike.
Yesterday, she got on an airplane, and left for law school. A lawyer. I just don’t see her being ruthless enough to be in the cutthroat business of law.
Alas–I shall have to redirect my carnal urges towards another. I will miss little Ms. Rockstar.