Thursday, January 18, 2007

Lawyers, guns and money

It was all a dehumanized nightmare...and
these raddled cretins have the gall to complain about my deadlines

19:38 a bathroom cubicle somewhere in the heart of it all:

Well, I reckon I've been burried too far in the bunker to say much, but my God, has anyone poked their head out the door recently? A tearful, apologetic president; a seemingly anti-semetic former president (though I haven't read his book yet, so I won't comment too much), and now, just in on the wire, we're five minutes to midnight http://www.thebulletin.org/ . It's enough to give a tea totaler the shakes---good thing I have some high powered speed to smooth the bumps.

I've reached a new pinnicle, though I'll leave it up to history to decide if it's the top or bottom; we just got back from France, a mission to Lyon where the beers are served in three sizes: petit, medio and le serieux (for the English), and later in Paris where the drains still smell the same after all those years, and all of the stone walls have an eroded facade about waste high. Ahhh, there is nothing I love more than a good wall peeing, except maybe through the front door of Urban Outfitters--I wonder if they've fixed that. Now, I'm stuck in my office during a windstorm at 19:39 on a Thursday night trying to construct the vague semblance of coherant work to get back on my misguided sense of time. Talk about a doomsday clock; only mine's the Pendulum.

So what do we have going? I'm too far out of the loop to offer any insightful political critique; judging by the last time I checked this page, the democrats just 'won' an election, even though it would take a supremely blind, yet somewhat optomistic fool to actually believe the US will turn around in two years. I saw a photo of the president in the paper a few days ago teary over the death of a marine whom he awarded the medal of honor. I'm not sure what to think about that. How moving does a speech have to be to make that man cry? Or, better yet, how hard does a photographer have to be to take the picture. May even give the mainline cynics reason to pause...before buying another beer and betting on next week's death toll. Christ, they tried to impeach Nixon for less and did impeach Clinton for nothing more than a blow job. Besides, I still blame Ford for the aweful mess we're in now. His old team; his failure speak out. The fact that he still pardoned Nixon. Believe me; it's hard to trust anyone who commited such a filthy sin. Apparantly they also lynched Hussain. Again mixed emotions. One more dead tyrant? Yes. A new world order? Probably not. Is the US still pouring buckets of shit onto its collective heads? Definately. Remember, the "government" is YOU, blame it; blame yourself. Hmmmm, what was I talking about?

I could give a writeup of my extraordinarly cool recent trip, but that' a lot like showing off holiday slides of your trip to Tuscan or home movies of the neighbor kid's 9th birthday--interesting only for those involved, and there's something vaguely voyeristic about relating intimate details onto the web for 10's of people to read---probably the numbersleft of my audience. Though someone did post a link to something about hydrocodone and acetaminophen; sounds good to me. I just dissolved three asprin into my Red Bull, so in about four minutes I'll be invisible. I did pay my respects to Napoleon and visited his tomb in Paris. A giant marble monument and church built to display and reflect one very short tubby man's ego and sense of miserable self worth. Wonder what Dubya's will look like? I can only imagin the contents of his presidential library. A few Curious George books, a copy of My Pet Goat for posterity, How To Make Friends and Influence People, and Yes I Can by Sammy Davis Jr. That about sums it up. Then a few photographs and statues each depicting the man wearing an enormous cod piece. Which more or less makes me extra depressed since I've resorted to making knob jokes about the president. When all else fails, make fun of his junk.

And, here I am; blathering away with enough streaming nonesense to make me wish I was wearing Wellies instead of fashionable European shoes. Per shame. Any nimrod with a computer can do the same thing. I'll sign off for now; but I won't be returning to the bunker. I've decided to manage the foriegn affairs desk here in London to report on Death Watch '08.

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