Acts Of Sabotage
If faith allows for suspicion I have the greatest faith in my mechanic. Do I really suspect that with one hand he is fixing a part of my Jeep while with the other he is hammering away at a part that will need fixing next week? Certainly not. It is preposterous to blame the failings of a piece of aging machinery on the capable hands of a mechanic. And yet for about a month now, on three separate occasions, something breaks on the Jeep the day after I get it back from the mechanic. This mechanic is a good guy and well respected in the community but once planted the seeds of doubt and suspicion what can grow but weedy thoughts? For example, am I a good guy and well respected in the community? I am not at all sure what is fully included in being a good guy but considering my hermetic lifestyle I would say the well respected part is in question. Outside of a baby's handful of exceptions, I am not that well known here, and so what could a general respect be based on? Perhaps I am seen by the few people with enough idle time to give a damn about me as a person to be trifled with. Or Easy Money or Mr. Moneybags or a nimrod, as in a dolt, (rather than a hunter or first ruler of the earth after the flood.)? Do I seriously entertain these doubts? Well I guess that would depend on what you mean by seriously. How do you weigh one thought against another? If I'm writing it am I serious? I suppose not necessarily but it certainly must be given more weight than the passing thought of seeing someone who resembles a mutant freak from a horror movie, and then wondering if that person could possibly be mutant offspring. I mean I think there is more a chance that I am not respected than there is that a certain person resembling a B. Kliban cartoon character is actually the offspring of at least one mutant parent. I think I'm just going to go with that. I am not a good person and I am not well respected. In which case, isn't it entirely possible that I wake from deep sleep each night and in a semi-conscious state sleep-walk out to my Jeep in the freezing cold and then perform acts of sabotage? That certainly is the type of thing an ill-respected bad person would do. I think I should keep an eye on me, see what other deviant acts might be going on. It is entirely possible that with a due diligence I could find myself back on the track of wholesome goodness, which is where I foolishly thought I was all along. I think if we nip this thing in the bud I should have no more problems with that Jeep.
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Mutant Review
The Hills Have Eyes 2 is a movie about mutants. If you have ever seen a mutant this would be a good movie to see, for comparison's sake. I personally found the mutants to be legitimately frightening and grotesque, hell bent as they were on chopping up people and storing their parts haphazardly, from hooks or on tables, around an underground storage room. In this episode the people were soldiers on a training mission who found their automatic weapons to be only moderately useful in combating mutants. And answered in this sequel is a question which has long nagged mutant aficionados--do they have a sense of humor? Apparently yes, for in one scene a soldier is rescued from a difficult cliff climb by a fellow soldier, who from above grabs his wrist just as he is about to fall and pulls him up effortlessly. Unfortunately, the helping soldier above is just a mutant in soldiers clothing. Letting the soldier-in-training dangle in mid air the mutant soldier chops off the arm he is holding and lets the man fall, some 80 feet or so and we are witness to the sound and vision of his head hitting a rock. Before he falls though the soldier is holding on the best he can with one hand but you know that's no good and when he begins to fall the mutant waves goodbye, with the soldiers cut off hand. And while at the time this was more horrifying than funny to me, in retrospect I have to judge it as proof of mutant humor. I could go on and on about this movie but for the few of you--and I'm guessing the number is very few--who enjoy, for whatever sick reason, the portrayal of mutants on film, I will spare you more details that in the end would only ruin the movie for you, and make you angry at me. I think it should be obvious that your anger is best saved for that day when you find yourself battling mutants. And good luck to you on that.
The Hills Have Eyes 2 is a movie about mutants. If you have ever seen a mutant this would be a good movie to see, for comparison's sake. I personally found the mutants to be legitimately frightening and grotesque, hell bent as they were on chopping up people and storing their parts haphazardly, from hooks or on tables, around an underground storage room. In this episode the people were soldiers on a training mission who found their automatic weapons to be only moderately useful in combating mutants. And answered in this sequel is a question which has long nagged mutant aficionados--do they have a sense of humor? Apparently yes, for in one scene a soldier is rescued from a difficult cliff climb by a fellow soldier, who from above grabs his wrist just as he is about to fall and pulls him up effortlessly. Unfortunately, the helping soldier above is just a mutant in soldiers clothing. Letting the soldier-in-training dangle in mid air the mutant soldier chops off the arm he is holding and lets the man fall, some 80 feet or so and we are witness to the sound and vision of his head hitting a rock. Before he falls though the soldier is holding on the best he can with one hand but you know that's no good and when he begins to fall the mutant waves goodbye, with the soldiers cut off hand. And while at the time this was more horrifying than funny to me, in retrospect I have to judge it as proof of mutant humor. I could go on and on about this movie but for the few of you--and I'm guessing the number is very few--who enjoy, for whatever sick reason, the portrayal of mutants on film, I will spare you more details that in the end would only ruin the movie for you, and make you angry at me. I think it should be obvious that your anger is best saved for that day when you find yourself battling mutants. And good luck to you on that.
Happy Holiday
I was up to the convenience store on the highway before sun up buying milk. So impatient was I for milk that I could not wait for the windshield to thaw and I squinted at the road on the other side of the frosted windshield, hoping not to find conflict with some small or large animal more impatient or careless than I.
The parking lot was full of the trucks of working men who were inside buying coffee and cigarettes and ding dongs for breakfast. There were three available spaces closest to the store and they were marked--Handicapped, No-Parking, and Reserved. I chose a spot that does not exist
A man about my height but twice as wide was blocking the open door with his comedy routine directed at a co-worker. The co-worker was a black man working on Martin Luther King Day. The big man said, Hold on now, what are you doing, don't you know what today is? If the circumstances allowed, the big man played this same joke every year. It was not mean spirited, the big man loved his black friend, and while comfortable with the word, nigger, was just as comfortable telling people he knew a black man who was all right. The big man took pride in this inside knowledge--the ability to discern between good and bad.
As a working class man of mostly the southern states, I have witnessed this exchange many times, in various forms, and one year, as my crews resident lover of black people, took off the day myself, although for me it was not out of reverence or protest that I took off, but rather that in regard to taking off from work, I feel one day is as good as another.
I had it in my mind to relate to you horrendous racial injustice on this day honoring the man who fought against it, but instead choose to leave you with the image of the two men at the store, who were gleamy-eyed and seemed happy to be in each other's company. As for what is in their hearts, I more and more wish to accept that I do not know.
I was up to the convenience store on the highway before sun up buying milk. So impatient was I for milk that I could not wait for the windshield to thaw and I squinted at the road on the other side of the frosted windshield, hoping not to find conflict with some small or large animal more impatient or careless than I.
The parking lot was full of the trucks of working men who were inside buying coffee and cigarettes and ding dongs for breakfast. There were three available spaces closest to the store and they were marked--Handicapped, No-Parking, and Reserved. I chose a spot that does not exist
A man about my height but twice as wide was blocking the open door with his comedy routine directed at a co-worker. The co-worker was a black man working on Martin Luther King Day. The big man said, Hold on now, what are you doing, don't you know what today is? If the circumstances allowed, the big man played this same joke every year. It was not mean spirited, the big man loved his black friend, and while comfortable with the word, nigger, was just as comfortable telling people he knew a black man who was all right. The big man took pride in this inside knowledge--the ability to discern between good and bad.
As a working class man of mostly the southern states, I have witnessed this exchange many times, in various forms, and one year, as my crews resident lover of black people, took off the day myself, although for me it was not out of reverence or protest that I took off, but rather that in regard to taking off from work, I feel one day is as good as another.
I had it in my mind to relate to you horrendous racial injustice on this day honoring the man who fought against it, but instead choose to leave you with the image of the two men at the store, who were gleamy-eyed and seemed happy to be in each other's company. As for what is in their hearts, I more and more wish to accept that I do not know.
Possibilities With Mice
The mice don't enjoy her company so they stay hidden and only occasionally venture out from the hiding places of mice--in the walls, the attic, or the insulation underneath the house--to see what goes on in the places of civilized man. There is however not too much going on behind the water heater or under the refrigerator or in the silverware drawer. She suffers a reasonable loneliness from their absence but remains ever hopeful, and at the ready, with a keen-eyed vigilance and a twitching nose, and in the event they should ever want to play she is willing and able, practicing daily with a cork or a wadded up piece of paper which she carries gently in her jaw around the house before dropping it carefully and batting it wildly across the wood floors.
The mice don't enjoy her company so they stay hidden and only occasionally venture out from the hiding places of mice--in the walls, the attic, or the insulation underneath the house--to see what goes on in the places of civilized man. There is however not too much going on behind the water heater or under the refrigerator or in the silverware drawer. She suffers a reasonable loneliness from their absence but remains ever hopeful, and at the ready, with a keen-eyed vigilance and a twitching nose, and in the event they should ever want to play she is willing and able, practicing daily with a cork or a wadded up piece of paper which she carries gently in her jaw around the house before dropping it carefully and batting it wildly across the wood floors.