Lord, this is George Bailey. Please God. Give me Mary back.

You have two options to read this post. Option A is the verse version, immediately below. Option B is the Prose Version which is down further. They are both the same. I think.


Verse Version
Rock bottom was arrived at again today. I was fleeing Cyberdyne (my employer whose real name shall not be published because I

signed a non disclosure agreement. FYI Cyberdyne is the Terminator manufacturer)
Anyway. I was not really fleeing but going to check on my van which was vanishing in the great blizzard of '09. but it felt

like fleeing because, well, I'll get to that.
I fell in the snow, slipping, my legs splayed on the black ice. I heard myself groan as my tendons stretched like plastic

trash bags over broken glass.
Ah! Fuck!
No one was around to see me. Nihilism surrounded me. I struggled up and laughed at the situation. Alone in a white out, the door closing behind me

and automatically locking Sign: "This is a LOCK DOWN BUILDING" Not turning back. Not a friend in sight.
"Must... reach... the.... van." I thought and nearly crawled through the snow with my Vietnamese silk scarf around my head

and my watchman's cap around my ears.
This was insane, this crawling and clawing through the ice to reach my van. I merely wanted to see if the tarp I had put over

the radiator was still there. The grill, if you will remember, is completely exposed to provide adequate ventilation in the Mexican desert.

Why had I taken the van so far from her habitat? Awful awful unforgivable mistake. So here I was clawing my way through a

snow drift. Cars buried in banks of ice. Bodies behind the wheel.
My van barely visible through the hail and I'm blindly groping for the door handle, drop the keys, moan loudly, curse the

gods above, dig with my frozen fingers in the snow, find the keys, drop them again, find them, plunge the key into the lock.

It is frozen. Turn hard, injure my hand. Almost break the window in crazed madness!
"Please god. Please let me in! Don't let me die this way! Not here!"
Then it opens. I never locked it to begin with. The van is never locked. I crawl into the womb again. The van is shaking in

the storm.

Ringing in my ear is the hiss of the blast furnace cooking the aluminum Cyberdyne bread. A radiation burn aches on my arm. I

wrap myself in my sleeping bag. Snow is blowing freely through the screen window. THE SCREEN WINDOW! Ah!
Frantically I tear some cardboard from an old cereal box (organic recycled paper) and block out the snow.
"No! No! I want to Live!"
So tired. I didn't sleep last night. Was sick in my bed. Sneezing. First day of work at 6 am and look outside into the next

ice age. 14,000 B.C.
But there can be no excuses any more. We all know I am the problem. Even Dr. Wayne Dyer knows. I am the problem. Oggy is the

problem. He won't assimilate and he finds excuses to continue his one man rebellion against the dominant species of planet

earth. Oggy vs Man. It's a mismatch but Oggy keeps diving out of the ring at the last second like Rowdy Roddy Piper when he

turned bad. So it has been going on forever and the crowd has gone home.

Let me explain that the Mission statement I signed today was written in Chinese and English. CHINESE! IN the Lakes Region of

New England. No wonder the old folks who had 13 years under their belts were skeptical when they were offered their jobs back

at a 50% pay cut and, oh yeah, by the fucking way, you are now officially CHINESE SCAB WORKERS! Your paychecks will be in

Yen.

God bless them for having their coffee and trash talking Cyberdyne.
Well, I crossed the picket line because I ain't no Tom Joad. I'm a man with no money. A man one paycheck from living in his

van on the side of a frozen river, fishing for trout with his shoe laces and a hot dog. ( I should mention that my hot dogs

were stolen with my bacon and Angie's pork chops. They'll never be seen again. I now hoard my cereal under my pillow and a

rat came in last night and we fought viciously until dawn and I won by smashing the monster with a guitar and chortling with

glee, naked, my shriveled penis dripping gonorrhea, the rat corpse now on a broken pencil to ward off evil spirits.)

Too much to explain...too much.

After officially becoming a Chinese scab worker I started my advanced arts and crafts projects. No need to discuss the

details and anyway I am forbidden by my loyalty to the Republic of China. Just know this, that a company with three initials

is building a supercomputer that will take over the entire world. IT'S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW! The Pharaohs have returned.
CALL me crazy, but that is what they called Sarah Connor when she said the machines were after her. Go ahead. Say it.

I returned, god help me, to Cyberdyne and continued my shift. I need the money. I don't care that the supercomputer is too

monstrous to be stopped or even understood. It is the Golem , or the legendary Frankenstein created by man but not of man. IT is

uberman. I fear it but I must have more bacon and salads, more ammunition for the rats. I almost brought cans to the food

bank until I realized, THE FOOD BANK DONATES THEIR FOOD TO MY HOUSE! When people talk about those less fortunate they are

talking about me. ME! Oggy! Ah!

To shift that paradigm I stumbled through the blizzard and back into the maw of Cyberdyne, the good scab. "Does the burn hurt? Naw. I's used to burns. Just show me where you want these boxes.

I loves to move boxes. Yassah!"

"Don't stop Believing" by Journey comes on the radio and it is instantly obvious that no one is listening or inspired. We

have done exactly that: we have stopped believing. The station "Hawk 99.5" has done the impossible by making me HATE "Peace of Mind" by Boston. Maybe the best produced song in history, and they play it every hour. I hate it now.

Conveyor belts. Blast furnaces. Anodizing sludge. Hazardous Waste suits. Bad coughs. Relief checks. What's there to believe

in, Steve Perry? This blizzard has caused a state of emergency and all our national guard units ARE IN FUCKING AFGHANISTAN!

You got old women on crutches digging for truffles in the snow...in CONCORD NH! Our national guard are gone to the desert.

"Had a guy in here a couple weeks ago. Real bonehead. Fucker didn't wear no gloves. Ha. His hands swelled up like a goddamn

motherfucker. Didn't he?"
"Huh?"

There's Oggy taking his medicine. Go on. Laugh. Laugh. He's laughing too. He'll be up all night because there are more rats

in the walls. He hears them and they hear him. It's only a matter of time until they come for his food stock. He's ready for

them. Now he must get ready for them. The sun never sets on Cyberdyne. The flag is red and white. My supervisors bow to each

other. The bakery has pork rolls and and dim sum. Some say the dollar is already obsolete. The yen is the new copper penny.
Wait, I hear the rats. They've come back. But I've got something they'll never expect.


Then I see now I typed my real last name in another post. I fix it but...
I learn...today...the L.A. book got published. Bravo.
http://www.orangerecordings.com/snakes.html
the list of authors...show my real name because it was before I adopted this alias...and the link...the dreaded blue link next to my name leads to this blog.

Thus...I don't know what to do. Batman without his mask. Does it matter? Not sure. The rats are here now and there are many of them. This is a killing army. Tonight we fight. Philosophy class is over.

Saw a clip of myself playing guitar on youtube. A comment: "Charlie Manson at the Holiday Inn LOL."

Keep laughing. Just see what the Golem has in store for you. I've seen the storm coming and it will lay waste to your world.

P.S. This wasn't supposed to be formatted like a poem but my stupid text editor threw in html paragraph breaks everywhere.

So this poem is brought to you by Microsoft and Cyberdyne.






Prose Version:
Rock bottom was arrived at again today. I was fleeing Cyberdyne (my employer whose real name shall not be published because I signed a non disclosure agreement. FYI Cyberdyne is the Terminator manufacturer)
Anyway. I was not really fleeing but going to check on my van which was vanishing in the great blizzard of '09. but it felt like fleeing because, well, I'll get to that.
I fell in the snow, slipping, my legs splayed on the black ice. I heard myself groan as my tendons stretched like plastic trash bags over broken glass.
Ah! Fuck!
No one was around to see me. Nihilism surrounded me. I struggled up and laughed at the situation. Alone in a white out, the door closing behind me and automatically locking Sign: "This is a LOCK DOWN BUILDING" Not turning back. Not a friend in sight.
"Must... reach... the.... van." I thought and nearly crawled through the snow with my Vietnamese silk scarf around my head and my watchman's cap around my ears.
This was insane, this crawling and clawing through the ice to reach my van. I merely wanted to see if the tarp I had put over the radiator was still there. The grill, if you will remember, is completely exposed to provide adequate ventilation in the Mexican desert.

Why had I taken the van so far from her habitat? Awful awful unforgivable mistake. So here I was clawing my way through a snow drift. Cars buried in banks of ice. Bodies behind the wheel.
My van barely visible through the hail and I'm blindly groping for the door handle, drop the keys, moan loudly, curse the gods above, dig with my frozen fingers in the snow, find the keys, drop them again, find them, plunge the key into the lock.

It is frozen. Turn hard, injure my hand. Almost break the window in crazed madness! "Please god. Please let me in! Don't let me die this way! Not here!"
Then it opens. I never locked it to begin with. The van is never locked. I crawl into the womb again. The van is shaking in the storm.
Ringing in my ear is the hiss of the blast furnace cooking the aluminum Cyberdyne bread. A radiation burn aches on my arm. I wrap myself in my sleeping bag. Snow is blowing freely through the screen window. THE SCREEN WINDOW! Ah!
Frantically I tear some cardboard from an old cereal box (organic recycled paper) and block out the snow. "No! No! I want to Live!"
So tired. I didn't sleep last night. Was sick in my bed. Sneezing. First day of work at 6 am and look outside into the next ice age. 14,000 B.C.
But there can be no excuses any more. We all know I am the problem. Even Dr. Wayne Dyer knows. I am the problem. Oggy is the problem. He won't assimilate and he finds excuses to continue his one man rebellion against the dominant species of planet earth. Oggy vs Man. It's a mismatch but Oggy keeps diving out of the ring at the last second like Rowdy Roddy Piper when he turned bad. So it has been going on forever and the crowd has gone home.

Let me explain that the Mission statement I signed today was written in Chinese and English. CHINESE! IN the Lakes Region of New England. No wonder the old folks who had 13 years under their belts were skeptical when they were offered their jobs back at a 50% pay cut and, oh yeah, by the fucking way, you are now officially CHINESE SCAB WORKERS! Your paychecks will be in Yen. God bless them for having their coffee and trash talking Cyberdyne.
Well, I crossed the picket line because I ain't no Tom Joad. I'm a man with no money. A man one paycheck from living in his van on the side of a frozen river, fishing for trout with his shoe laces and a hot dog. ( I should mention that my hot dogs were stolen with my bacon and Angie's pork chops. They'll never be seen again. I now hoard my cereal under my pillow and a rat came in last night and we fought viciously until dawn and I won by smashing the monster with a guitar and chortling with glee, naked, my shriveled penis dripping norrhea, the rat corpse now on a broken pencil to ward off evil spirits.)

Too much to explain...too much.
After officially becoming a Chinese scab worker I started my advanced arts and crafts projects. No need to discuss the details and anyway I am forbidden by my loyalty to the Republic of China. Just know this, that a company with three initials is building a supercomputer that will take over the entire world. IT'S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW! The Pharaohs have returned.
CALL me crazy, but that is what they called Sarah Connor when she said the machines were after her. Go ahead. Say it. I returned, god help me, to Cyberdyne and continued my shift. I need the money. I don't care that the supercomputer is too monstrous to be stopped or even understood. It is the Golem , or the legendary Frankenstein created by man but not of man. IT is uberman. I fear it but I must have more bacon and salads, more ammunition for the rats. I almost brought cans to the food bank until I realized, THE FOOD BANK DONATES THEIR FOOD TO MY HOUSE! When people talk about those less fortunate they are talking about me. ME! Oggy! Ah!
To shift that paradigm I stumbled through the blizzard and back into the maw of Cyberdyne, the good scab. "Does the burn hurt? Naw. I's used to burns. Just show me where you want these boxes. I loves to move boxes. Yassah!"
"Don't stop Believing" by Journey comes on the radio and it is instantly obvious that no one is listening or inspired. We have done exactly that: we have stopped believing. The station "Hawk 99.5" has done the impossible by making me HATE "Peace of Mind" by Boston. Maybe the best produced song in history, and they play it every hour. I hate it now. Conveyor belts. Blast furnaces. Anodizing sludge. Hazardous Waste suits. Bad coughs. Relief checks. What's there to believe in, Steve Perry? This blizzard has caused a state of emergency and all our national guard units ARE IN FUCKING AFGHANISTAN! You got old women on crutches digging for truffles in the snow...in CONCORD NH! Our national guard are gone to the desert.

"Had a guy in here a couple weeks ago. Real bonehead. Fucker didn't wear no gloves. Ha. His hands swelled up like a goddamn motherfucker. Didn't he?"
"Huh?"

There's Oggy taking his medicine. Go on. Laugh. Laugh. He's laughing too. He'll be up all night because there are more rats in the walls. He hears them and they hear him. It's only a matter of time until they come for his food stock. He's ready for them. Now he must get ready for them. The sun never sets on Cyberdyne. The flag is red and white. My supervisors bow to each other. The bakery has pork rolls and and dim sum. Some say the dollar is already obsolete. The yen is the new copper penny.
Wait, I hear the rats. They've come back. But I've got something they'll never expect. Then I see now I typed my real last name in another post. I fix it but...
I learn...today...the L.A. book got published. Thanks to Ron Sievers.
http://www.orangerecordings.com/snakes.html
the list of authors...show my real name because it was before I adopted this alias, before my christian name had become a link in the chain bringing me down...and the link...the dreaded blue link next to my name leads to this blog.
Thus...I don't know what to do. Batman without his mask. Bruce Wayne. Does it matter? Not sure. The rats are here now and there are many of them. This is a killing army. Tonight we fight. Philosophy class is over. Saw a clip of myself playing guitar on youtube. A comment: "Charlie Manson at the Holiday Inn LOL." Keep laughing. Just see what the Golem has in store for you. I've seen the storm coming and it will lay waste to your world.