Category Archives: WTF

Why Dontcha

5 Replies

It’s a Tuesday and it’s gotten mighty cold. Had to break out the winter hat and gloves. Spent some time last night looking for them actually. I found a pair of gloves that I found 15 years ago which was nice, and a hat I bought last winter. It’s all good though. I enjoyed the cold. Cuts down on the sweating that I do.

I am a bit worried about Harpy who seems despondent despite his callous demeanor. He’s losing his job and it’s actually a job he liked. I advised him to go out on a positive note rather than making a scene. That was something I learned from Miriam when I was being dismissed from Arista Records the first time.

Obviously it worked since I was asked back for a project a few months after that. It’s best to leave that way since it’s the last thing they will remember. I think things will turn out well employment wise for Harpy. If anyone here knows of a need for a part time bookkeeper, contact me at this blog. Look at me, posting jobs wanted on my blog.

Last night was O & RM hosted by the Legion of Substitute O & RM’s. Some guy sitting in for O. Doesn’t have the same bellowing tone as O so he couldn’t hold my attention for long so I wound up watching Girl Talk videos on YouTube. RM was hosted by Arianna Huffington so that was interesting but not interesting enough so it was more Girl Talk for me.

Then I watched Heroes which was good. A lot of online reports were about how lame last night’s episode was but I thought it was alright. Not WTF alright, but it satisfied the comic book guy within me.

Just got off the phone with my brother Brian who is currently in his own personal hell. I love Brian, he is truly one of the genuine nice guys on the planet and they don’t make them like him anymore. I can’t get into what he’s going through but he has my full support on whatever it is he has to do or needs to do.

He’s a hard worker, and puts food on the table and clothes on the back of his wife and kids, as well as a roof over their heads. He’s doing an admirable job in the face of tremendous difficulty.

Our father would have definitely handled things differently. Not saying that the way our father raised us was the best way, but we didn’t do anything bad when we were growing up, mainly out of fear of dad.

I think if I was in Brian’s shoes I would probably be looking for my father’s book on life with one hand and the back of the other hand swinging in the air. But it’s not my place and it’s not my problem and I can only stand on the sidelines and be there for Brian should he ever need my help or an ear to listen.

Most of the time when Brian and I were growing up we were at each other’s throats most of the time. Now we’re good friends. Can’t talk politics or sports (though my talking sports with Brian would probably get him laughing) but we can talk music and we share a mutual like of various artists like Bruce, Nick Lowe, The Fabs etc.

I truly love Brian and I want for him only the very best and that he gets through this situation with a peaceful and intelligent resolution for all concerned.

Love you Briando.

It’s Too Bad

3 Replies

On the cusp of O turning into RM, after O’s excellent editorial regarding Prop h8 in California, I get a phone call from my brother Frank. He watches O religiously, and I guess I do too. O was over and I guess RM isn’t his type so despite the fact that I’m watching RM he calls to ask me if I saw O’s Special Comment. I tell him I did and it’s basically what I’ve been thinking and feeling the past few months.

I tell him of my plans to demonstrate outside the mormon temple on Wednesday night with a few other bloggers in my poppy seed blogroll. He advises me to not get into trouble so as not to alert the O’Reilly factions. I want to tell him it would be more like Grant Park 2008 as opposed to 1968, but I guess he just wanted an easy going conversation and here I was getting all radical.

It’s too bad, I would have loved to have talked to him about the past week. I wrote that last night, after I posted and after the phone call. I was obviously bothered by the whole thing and kept it to myself. Actually not really keeping it to myself since I am posting it here.

Frank’s wife Elaine, told me that he definitely likes to talk (when he can find the words), he’s just not so good at listening.

Now Bill is home, literally hat in hand. He’s upset that he’s going to have to take his mother out of his cousin Elsie’s apartment. That’s where his mother has been since Elsie was adamant about not wanting her Aunt in a nursing home.

Elsie’s husband, Andy Capp, the faux crooner has been very abusive towards Bill on the whole matter, calling him names and generally belittling him every chance he could get. You see Andy Capp with his series 7 broker license doesn’t work. Just practices being a crooner all day long.

Food on the table? That’s his wife’s job. Clothing their kids, let Elsie do that too. Here is this bald headed scumbag treating Bill like shit as if Bill wasn’t feeling bad enough. So Bill is going to take his mother out of there and set her back up in her own apartment.

That means after the helper that’s been looking after Bill’s mother leaves, Bill will leave work and tend to his mother without the help of Elsie or the abuse of Elsie’s do nothing husband. Bill is all torn up and once again I offer a shoulder to cry on and ears to listen.

The bed will be bigger without him, but it will always be here for him. I just love how people use the bible to justify their hatred, their fears. Elsie seems so hip and with it but she actually uses that old tome to make decisions on how to live her life and to justify not explaining to her kids why ‘Uncle’ Billy isn’t going to get married to a woman, and now why Bill isn’t going to be around much, if at all.

Even if Jesus existed, I’m pretty sure this isn’t how he wanted his followers to behave. Speaking of which, tomorrow night is the night when I will be joining fellow No on Prop 8 supporters demonstrating outside the mormon temple at 65th and Columbus Avenue at 6:30.

Started out the day reading about Thomas Friedman in the New Yorker, rode on the bus home reading about that dead bastard Milton Friedman in Naomi Klein’s excellent book, The Shock Doctrine.