So, lately it's been exceptionally blah for me. Working 3p-11p Tues-Fri REALLY puts a wet blanket on one's social life, let me tell you. Especially when you work Monday 7a-3p, so you only get a stunted pseudo-weekend instead of the real thing. I've said more to my goldfish (which despite all my inadequacies as a caregiver is still stubbornly clinging to life in a bowl on my kitchen table) in a purely social setting than I have to any humans this week. #2 on that list is my potted plant.
Yeah. So I got that going for me, which is kinda sad and pathetic.
For those carrying a morbid fascination about it, my diabetes management is in some kind of limbo. All of my prescriptions were not being renewed, apparently I missed a doctor's appointment. So I went in to see him, and he didn't renew any of them, so, I guess, I got better? I heard that shit was like luggage and never went away, but maybe I'm special. Or maybe his diagnosis was incorrect, and I'm no longer symptomatic, who knows?
So, a co-worker came in and shot the shit for a few, and we got onto the topic of frivolous litigation, so now I have a direction to point this barge in...
Locally, a motorcyclist just got fifteen years for his part in a fatal crash of a state trooper, who was attempting to chase him (the cyclist on a motorcycle, mind you) in an SUV. Let me repeat that for emphasis: a state trooper driving an SUV died in a wreck while chasing a guy on a motorcycle. Now, I know what you're thinking: 'Let's give that cop a Darwin Award!'. Uh-uh, sorry, too late for that, he'd already bred and had a kid or two. The gene pool is already polluted with his stupidity. So we're down one on the scorecard already. The speeding motorist is now starting a ridiculously unjust fifteen year sentence for speeding. So we're down 0-2. Now, to my knowledge, it hasn't happened yet, but it's only a matter of time before this disqualified Darwin winner's wife sues the city, county, and state for a fat stack of long green (or negotiates a settlement). And she'll win, widows with children whose husbands died in the line of
Look, I'm all for law and order. I like 'tha police', they keep the bad people from taking my shit and killing me. But they're as human, and therefore as prone to stupidity, as you or I are. The cop was stupid to give chase. He had a radio. Motorcycles are fast, yes, but I've yet to hear of one that can outrun a radio. The motorcyclist did not kill him; his own sense of self-importance did. The laws of physics did. I have to assume that the only reason the motorcyclist was 'caught' at all is because he turned back after the crash or turned himself in. Either of those two actions is all he needed to do to absolve himself of any wrongdoing in the cop's death. At most, he deserved a speeding ticket. Fifteen years is an obscenity.
So I guess I need to add that cop's name to the list of graves I need to defile. Once I get around to starting that list. That ought to make for some interesting reading. They say the best revenge is living well, or at least outliving your enemies, or perhaps they say both (seems to me that 'they' talk a lot of shit, and some of it is hopelessly self-contradictory too). For me the best revenge is taking a long ripe shit on your enemies' tombstones. Too bad I've not yet had the opportunity to do so. My enemies keep breathing, curse their lungs.
Oh well, moving right along...
Peter Boyle died yesterday. That sucks immense horse-monkey dong. The litany of dead famous people that I liked is getting depressingly long, while the list of famous dead people I never liked remains depressingly short. Well-conditioned, perfectly healthy Phil Hartman is dead (shot by his loony bitch-whore wife), and Michael Moore hasn't keeled over from heart disease yet. Peter Boyle dies of fucking cancer, and Bon Jovi is doing fucking TV now, because stinking up an entire decade of pop music wasn't enough. Lucille Ball, Patsy Cline, Janice Joplin, Fred Gwynne, John Lennon, George Harrisson, Rodney FUCKING Dangerfield... all dead. Courtney Love, Britney Spears, Tommy Lee, Oprah Winfrey, Star Harris, all the damned Hollywood Scientologists, OJ Simpson, and Ted 'Touch of Death' McGinley... all still kicking.
I've said it before, I'll say it now, I'm sure to reiterate it in the future: there is no gravity, this planet just sucks.
4 comments:
And why the hell are Justin Timberlake and Kevin Federline alive and River Phoenix dead? Why, why, why hasn't Osama keeled over from at least the effort of dragging that dialysis unit around and Dick Cheney has survived all those heart attacks?
I keep telling myself there is supposed to be justice in this world. Maybe it just comes later.
Well, at least one person gets it.
But, you know, the reason there's no justice in this world is because it's still in Satan's grasp for now. That can't last much longer. So take hope.
It can get spectacularly worse from here, but it can also get mind-blowingly better. I'm sure the first of those options will be exercised first. That's just life. But I'm just as sure the second will follow close on the first's heels.
a) cops are assholes.
b) the cyclist getting 15 years is just another sign of the US showing what a fascist military-police state we're becoming.
c) you were just as happy as everyone else to see britney's "brazillian".
I still don't know what that means.
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