Monday, October 31, 2011

Inc. November 2011

I don't want this essay idea to hang over my head for weeks while I freeze to death so I'm going to plunge in and write non stop until I've got something down. Then I'll edit it in my dreams.

See, I've recently realized that I'm as good a writer as P.J. O'Rourke but I have to do everything in half the time and at a public computer where there is a clock decreasing in time in the corner of the screen and if I don't have the essay written in that time then I get kicked out to where I live in my van. But O'Rourke is funny in that high-minded way that is one or two steps beyond the initial knee-jerk reaction/response of the lizards in the commuter lane listening to paid hyenas on morning talk shows. Also, I have to write while I'm sober which is something O'Rourke does only once a decade.

I knew I had to do something when I read the article in Inc. "Rachel Ashwell Shabby Chic (starting over stitch by stitch)" a feel good story of a single mom in Santa Monica, CA (this by itself is laughable as Santa Monica has the highest rent in the world which means her ex-hubby was a film producer or drug dealer) The picture is like Martha Stewart before she turned to the dark side. Earth tones/sans make-up. etc. And Shabby Chic started as flea market furniture with custom slip covers something my mother was doing in 1973 New Mexico. Famous people threw some money at Rachel, her crap was featured on the sitcom Friends, she did a show on E!, Oprah anointed her, etc. T-shirt bed sheets were as popular as sub-prime mortgages. And it all basically comes down to the vapidity of Los Angeles being exposed and exploited with no substance at all. White picket fences around concrete big box stores. It's like calling vanilla ice cream "Anti-Chocolate" and suddenly your ice cream shop takes off...and you're a big hero. BULLSHIT. Within 5 years she filed for bankruptcy, closed 80 stores of prepackaged Chinese crap and started flipping couches from Round Top, Texas and she's happy now. But what I see is vapidity and narcissism making money in a place that is saturated with stolen water and silicone tits. That sums up Inc magazine and my perception of the content and made me want to analyze the entire magazine to expose something in the process. So here it goes:

This magazine is called Inc. and it is an abomination. The cover has that matte white finish like "We're so pure" mythology Steve Jobs invented for the environmental catastrophe known as Apple computers. Sure, they are totally harmless as long as you are not Chinese or a fish living in the ocean. If you are then your blood will slowly be poisoned by mercury leached from the disposed lithium batteries that power our gadgets. So, that's the kind of ridiculous propaganda that the editor, Jane Berentson, thinks she will slip by the recently graduated M.B.A set whose dry cleaning bill is more than a Haitian's food budget. It's all business propaganda for an audience that grew up reading People mag, watching TMZ and acting in porn flicks to finance their first business. Really, everyone in it wants to be Steve Jobs, a "visionary" who couldn't write html but could tell the person who writes it to write it faster and better. Example:

Tara Hunt: CEO of buyosphere (ha! Like calling me CEO of Oggy World!). Oh, my great good god. Out of desire to be thorough, I visited buyosphere and it's like Narcissus designed a website with Jennifer Weiner as consulatant. "Kevin wants this. I want that. I like this. I have this....etc" It's really horrifying. Basically, I've got a suede jacket I don't want so I go and see what men want to buy a suede jacket. "Jack wants a Suede Jacket" Then I offer it up to them. "Oggy Has a suede Jacket" Oggy and Jack make a deal and buyosphere gets a cut. It's a facebook-enabled shopping spree. Clever--but a symptom of credit and consumer happy and essentially a middleman/used car salesman ethic who exploits rampant consumption. Way to go, Tara.

Then there are some consumer reports graphs about how many people will hear gossip about a good customer service experience (9, see my Greyhound story) opposed to 16 people hearing a bad experience. and fluff "research corner"  "Why it pays to help customers relax" Apple stores have "roaming salespeople equipped with hand held card swipers" thank Steve Jobs for no lines.

Another feel-good story about a brewmaster who got a state law changed that made it illegal to sell beer to customers on the site of a former abrasive's manufacturer. (how this place was allowed to produce consumables is another question). Easier access to beer. Great. Drive safe.

Random quote from an ad by Cessna: "When you told us you wanted a larger cabin and the freedom to move around [in your private leer jet] we listened. A wide world of comfort starts here."


Gastronaut delivers buffet meals in S.F. to offices. That sounds functional but listen to the three companies they fed: Credit card processor. Online test-prep. User Generated reviews of websites. Never say gay people can't make money from nothing.

Then there is a column written by Norm Brodsky where he dolls out advice to the anonymous masses. "Never buy a business for the wrong reasons, and buying one to stifle competition is definitely a wrong reason." "Emphasize the company's internal quality control..." "Good salespeople focus on the particular feature that the customer cares most about." blah blah blah.
This is all good advice but Norm Brodsky's specialty is "records storage" which basically means taking all those dusty boxes of tax returns in your basement and putting them in his basement. Visionary.

A company called 37signals writes an article bragging that he hired a videographer to video their genius in action. They have a word for this and it's spelled N-a-r-c-i-s-s-i-s-m

Innovation: something called the mChip tests a drop of blood for $1 and can identify 10 different diseases in 10 minutes. This is fucking completely remarkable and I'm an asshole for doubting Man's ingenuity. This means that when I go to Amsterdam and buy some street prostitutes I can use the card to make sure I don't get HIV. Bonus!

Reviews of smart phones and computer tune up software, luggage return tags, digital crap, etc. Pure product placement.

Article: Michael Plummer Jr. was a respectable medic when he took over his father's company: Our Town America. (can you fit any more patriotic key words into a company name?) The company sends those annoying bundles of junk mail to your door when you move into a neighborhood. 99% of them get thrown away except for the "Save $1 on your next taco" which hangs around in your wallet until it expires. He didn't want to, but he decided to keep the business going so you can thank Michael when you throw away that envelope of useless paper.

Article: This one is the worst because it combines flagrant hedonism with frivolous business models. Jared Heyman started infosurv which is totally useless badgering of customers and employees. It's like someone heard some gossip at the water cooler and thought , "If I recorded that anonymously, that would be a good indicator of company health." Flash forward 12 years and it's worth $2.1 million and I personally wouldn't take it if he was giving it away. So, Jared is getting itchy feet and wants to see the world he has been annoying for a decade so he leaves to travel around the world. My budget for the last 3 years has been about $6K. He budgeted $70K for one year. Now, the article is basically about what happens to him and what happens to his company when he takes his long vacation. BIG FUCKING DEAL> LIKE ANYONE CARES IF INFOSURV GOES BELLY UP. It's all about demographics and focusing in on a market. Like, I saw a Glade Air Freshener commercial during a football game. I guess they didn't use infosurv to tell them MEN DON'T CARE WHAT THE ROOM SMELLS LIKE.
Ok, here's an example of why you who are reading this are not going on a $70K world tour. Heyman had the brilliant idea to create something called "iCE" Infosurv Concept Exchange. Let me explain: People, (losers who have nothing better to do with their time) get $1000 in fake iCE dollars. They are given a mock stock exchange of prototype companies/stock/products/food/burgers/condoms/etc. How they spend this fake money is supposed to predict the value of that prototype/idea/concept. I don't have an example because I have better things to do with my time than spend fake iCE money on non-existent products but it shows you how the other half thinks. (I'm sure the products are food-based concoctions a'la Wendys or cell phone designs.) He basically looked at how companies test markets and put a spin on it with a fake marketplace. How people spend fake money on virtual products will reflect how they spend real money in the future on real products. Doctor it up with some pretty graphs and pie charts and BOOM you have a $2.1 million dollar business and a nice trip around the world to practice kite surfing. Now, you and I would not enter this picture because it is an abomination and we know that fake money spent when we are stoned in our bathrobes is not how we will spend real money when we are sober and slouching around the mall looking at teenage girls. But for some reason a company like Sony or Pixar will hire Infosurv to monitor the use of fake money in a fake marketplace. Well, I'm a hippie living in a van chopping wood at the park & ride in pitch blackness, cooking hot dogs over an open flame of a wood stove and the wood is motorcycle pallets hand sawed and chopped with a dull hatchet in the woods as security did their rounds. SO WHAT DO I KNOW?
The point of the article is lost on me as writer Amy Barrett must've been so happy to get the year long assignment to chase a handsome rich guy around the world that she totally commits a metaphoric atrocity by comparing Heyman to Che Guevara who was 22 when he was studying medicine and went to explore his continent, practiced medicine (not kite surfing) and then determinedly banded with Fidel Castro to liberate Cuba from the grips of capitalist corporations (like Heyman's) and the dog dictator Fulgencio Batista. Similarities? NONE. Oh, Heyman rides a motorcycle to his kite surfing lessons in Brazil...yeah, he's EXACTLY LIKE CHE. The company survives. Heyman learns to kite surf. End of article.
Nowhere in this article does it ask the question of how this money gets generated and if it does any good.

Question: Do you know who tells you that it is vital to focus your product on a specific market?
Answer: A company that does customer research.

I would tell you that you should make a product you like and if it good then someone will want to buy it. Otherwise you get hillbillies saying "I like the idea of a chicken stuffed with hamburger and covered with chocolate." and Wendys puts it on their "get fat" menu. More on this later.

The next article is on social media and it enrages me because it's pure narcissism. facebook (gossipbook), twitter, youtube all are used to promote mattresses and after shave. But it's the evolution of advertising where people are targeted specifically and feel special. we're all doomed if this doesn't stop.

Then there is a congratulatory article showcasing Stan Richards who "brands" concepts. Corona, milk, chicken, tequila, home depot. motel 6. All those brands were from his agency. Basically, if I had no conscience I would've ended up there and you'd all be eating out of my palm instead of my living off scavenged berries. 90 minutes after the hip ad associates make their pitches on how to brand an energy company Richards says, "My only comment is that we have figured out 20 different ways to complicate the offer to the point where it's almost impossible to figure it out." That's why he's Stan Richards. I also learn that "Spinning" class is really Biking...which makes me laugh because it's pure marketing thrown at yuppies who can't ride a bike because they wanted nice granite curbs that make the street too narrow for a car and a bike. assholes.

The next article is titled "Why is it so hard to find good people. The problem might be you." This is a spin article because it can be rehashed every month by any competent writer. I could write you this article in the next two hours if I wanted because hiring is a huge part of companies. Think about how I, Oggy Bleacher, must brand and market myself so some innocent company will think I'm a good fit. It's a total joke. I definitely don't belong on a job but I must package myself thusly.
I told someone, " I need to doctor my resume." Then my temp agency called and said, "Let's tailor your resume." So I started using that word instead. This article basically blah blah blahs about ways that hiring is a problem...perfectionism, unhealthy attraction, over analysis, procrastination. etc. I see this less about the content as about writer April Joyner making her monthly rent check. It is frivolous and ambiguous. Any HR dept could defend all her "mistakes".

Strategy: here's a trendy one where branding meets organic food. Sweetgreen is a D.C. based restaurant chain and they wanted to get into the music festival biz. I am not sure how this festival will promote organic food but I've never been to Sweetgreen. Is it good? Anyone know? I love salads but I unless it's overpriced Philbricks then I can't eat it. I don't think the ecstasy/crowd surfing crowd cares what they are eating. I guess Sweetgreen is a good concept that will be a success if Haitians are allowed to eat food. God, I'm soooo hungry.

A graph article compares 4 micro-funding/crowdfunding options. Kickstarter, Indiegogo, Profounder, Microventures. These are ways to make a good/bad idea seem like a good idea to others so you can lose their money and not your own. smart! If I was ambitious I would use one of these sites to fund my idea to record all the accents of America and create a video montage of every one saying something like the "I have a dream" speech by MLK Jr. But I'm a pride-ful loser and would rather do it on my own dime which means it will never get done.

Elevator Pitch: One page to do exactly what the crowdfunding article talks about: convince other people to invest. Three guys built a computer platform to match speakers of other languages to learners of those languages. Their audience/jury was three heavy hitters in the finance world. All three basically said, "Good idea, but it's been done better and with more features. Go back to college."

Marketing: How to navigate the Hispanic marketplace basically came down to one word: Tits.

An Essay written first person by a young executive who pays nannies to raise his kids. David Sacks describes his day and sprains his arm patting himself on the back. His software is called Yammer. It facilitates idle gossip in the workplace.

Special Advertising Section: What? I thought the whole magazine was a special advertising section. School of Rock franchises, seniors helping seniors franchises (these are the notes in the library promising money to read to the infirm. ha!) A franchise with environmental waste solutions costs $26K. You get a digital camera and some company letterhead to tell a mcdonalds to shut off lights when they aren't in the bathroom.
Franchise those dvd rental boxes. Boy, my dreams will be coming true when I drive around replacing Lindsay Lohan's old movie with her new movie on christmas eve.

Fittingly, the magazine ends with an obituary of a deli owner named Rose Kravitz who worked every day and died at 95 years old. "If you can't make it working 40 hours, work 60," she said and probably worked 70 hours a week. But most importantly, she didn't outsource and she would eat all the food in her deli and she never hired infosurv or Stan Richards or had a corned beef music festival or used twitter. They do have a facebook account but that's not what makes them a success. The food is good, tested by the owners and the staff, priced and aimed at the market they are in, dirt poor Youngstown, Ohio, and they are content to do a good job. CONTENT. They aren't doing flips going to work everyday. Nowhere does the magazine mention that Rose, who had no M.B.A., is the only person in the magazine who had any common sense about economic matters. Everyone else basically tries to make money out of nothing. They make money out of manipulating the need for their product. Go ask a tire salesman if you need new tires. Rose clearly remembered the old days when the staples of life were all that made a buck. Fake people using Fake money to buy virtual concepts in a fake marketplace is something that could only exist in 2011. The fact this economic anomaly allows a vapid CEO to cruise around the world learning to Kite Surf makes me want to throw up my corned beef.

As I suspected, this magazine is an indicator species for the decrepit attitudes in the vapid business world of today. It's written like People magazine writers read the wall street journal instead of seeing whose cellulite has run down their bloated ass cheeks. I'm repulsed by both because they lack critical thinking skills. Inc. acts as a lap dog to small business owners, telling them what they want to know, inventing a market for their own empty advice. I know that business is a part of modern world but the ignorance of these articles is appalling. The editors seem utterly entranced with their own fake success. They even believe they deserve to be rich managing boxes of old files and creating virtual marketplaces for fake money to be spent by robots on gross food concepts that don't exist. Or branding products as a job. Do you think I need help branding Oggy Bleacher? That's been the experiment since day 1. Can I manufacture an identity? The answer is yes. It isn't that hard. You don't need an expert. Ask Rose Kravitz. Most importantly, get some common sense about basic values. Would your grandfather eat your menu? Would Rose Kravitz use your service? If not then get back in line.

The back of the magazine has an ad from Dell.

"Virtualization not only improves your outlook, it says "look out" to your competition.

What the fuck does that mean?

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Old School

Dravid from Franconia walked 7 miles to pick potatoes for $1 a day back in 1930 and 81 years later he's walking across Greenland Avenue when there is no electricity, dodging cars to get his paper (yes, he walks to get his paper probably because he knows home delivery is an abomination). This is part of my project to record authentic New England Accents. He's 87 years old. He said his family came from Poland and can speak Polish and German so maybe his accent wouldn't be what I wanted but I think it is. You be the judge.
When I talk about working for old people this is the person I'm talking about. Worked his whole life, fought in WWII, starved in the depression, never conned no one, never made much money, etc, will die with nothing. Now I open this fucking Inc. Magazine AND I'LL START SCREAMING NOW BECAUSE THE TOP ARTICLE IS "HOW TO ACE SOCIAL MEDIA...AND WHY LINDAY LOHAN CAN HELP, FOR A PRICE." AND THIS SKINNY JUNKIE CUNT CHARGES $2,353 TO TWEET VAPID MANUFACTURED COMMENTS TO HER 2.5 MILLION FOLLOWERS. AND COMPANIES PAY HER! And I feel that Inc Magazine is an accomplice in some kind of horrible decay of America by narcissistic-ally promoting a narcissistic junkie promoter...and the entire magazine "The magazine for growing companies" is really an outlet of advertising of advertisers who believe they can mask their own vapidity with beautiful photography and graphs when THE MAIN ARTICLE IS ABOUT A CEO OF A COMPANY CALLED "INFOSURV' A MARKET RESEARCH COMPANY THAT BASICALLY ANNOYS PEOPLE WITH QUESTIONS LIKE "WAS YOUR HAMBURGER GOOD?" This entire magazine has absolutely no substance and by association America has no substance..."How I started a million dollar business with yard sale furniture" translates to "How I exploited the absence of authentic culture in Los Angeles." I plan a future article where I analyze every article in this magazine but it's a little hard to do living in my van and shoveling snow off my forehead in the morning.
Oh, I want to get down on my knees and apologize to Dravid for turning his potato paradise into a playground for Junkie Lohan and Ho-bag Hilton. WE FUCKED UP> WE ARE WRONG>PLEASE LET ME RAKE YOUR LAWN FOR FREE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!

Pulling Teeth

Greyhound Lines, Inc.
P.O. Box 660362
Dallas, TX 75266-0362
Attn: Refund Dept.

Dear Greyhound Lines Customer Service,

I recently traveled from Harrisburg, PA to Portsmouth, NH. At the bus terminal in Harrisburg I requested a ticket to “Portsmouth, New Hampshire via Boston, Mass.” and since the bus was leaving at that very second I immediately jumped on the bus without double-checking my ticket once it was issued. It was only in my layover in New York that I noticed the clerk had sold me a ticket to Boston, Mass. The clerk must have only heard the last part of my statement. Again, the bus was leaving post haste so I immediately jumped on that bus.

I had priced the ticket from Harrisburg to Portsmouth for $117 but the ticket to Boston cost $115. Once in Boston I needed a ticket to Portsmouth and was told I could not change my ticket by merely paying the extra $2. No, I had to pay $21.50 to complete my travel plans.

“But I asked for a ticket to Portsmouth,” I said.
“I can’t help you,” said the clerk.

So I purchased the new ticket.

As you can see by the ticket receipts I did not intentionally split my trip up in Boston as I was on the next available bus for Portsmouth. Obviously, a miscommunication that took place in Harrisburg cost me an extra $19.50 and I am writing to request a refund of this amount.

I sincerely hope you see my position in this incident and refund me the difference in the purchase price of the tickets. My travel plans often include Greyhound I would like to retain my trust that I will not be taken advantage of when I find myself in a harried disposition due to hectic travel situations and environments. It was an honest mistake and I will attempt to speak more clearly in the future to avoid further confusion and expense.

Kind regards,

Oggy Bleacher
134 Lincoln Ave
Portsmouth, NH 03801

Saturday, October 29, 2011


Soon after this I heard a little lady knocking on the piano.
"That's quite enough," she said.
I'd been playing for 3 hours.
Here's the song I was playing as I was lost in my own Oggy world

Scenic New England

 Fake store fronts in the Clipper Home give the illusion of going downtown to get your hair cut. I want this in my van.
 Oggy's Point where all my camping equipment was stolen.
Sagamore River

Friday, October 28, 2011

Signs of the Times

The freezing snow fell on the fiberglass camper top and gave me a chance to try out my low profile heater. It dried out my hot tub shorts without attracting the fire department

Skip a meal...add a belt hole.

My answer to the latest added hole in my belt. Suds N Soda meatball sub.

Real snow on the plastic pumpkin.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

What doesn't Belong?

Can you identify the picture that doesn't belong in this series of three?

Born to be Mild

When I'm not picking dandruff out of my hair and cleaning the transmission fluid from my hangnails I'm opening up the throttle on my 1974 Vespa Ciao and clearing the streets of squirrels chased by madman apple pickers.

Drought? Call Oggy

As soon as I completely remove any complicated assembly on my van that leaves it exposed to the weather or inoperable, a weather system moves in as if the Big Director in the sky yelled, "Cue the Storm! Oggy, prepare to curse!"
And my stiff rye neck cranes upward to the icy rain, my fingers frozen in worn wool gloves, tattered, aching back from the couch that's 5" too short for my ramrod arthritic knees, and my spine creaking like a barn door. Damn Rain!
"Chance of wet snow..." says the voice talent on the radio before returning to vapidity of gossip and taking calls about broken marriages...
I look back at my damn van that has no window and I rub my numb thumbs. I will persist in this line of attack because all work is equal except this work benefits only me...and there was a time that's long gone when specialized labor did not exist and culture was candles burning in monkey heads. My latest get rich slow scheme is a business modeled on the donation jar. Housework and yard work for low income families and the what you can. I think that some people join the army and believe they are helping America. I need something more local so I will live in my van and rake lawns for people on welfare and Social Security.

Mama Save Me

Some christ lovers stalked me down the street and gave me this card.
I said, "Cool. They allow hippies like me?"
"Yes," said the woman.
"But no XXXXX people, right?"
"Of course we allow XXXXX people."
I made a face...
"Oh, that doesn't work for me because everyone knows XXXXX PEOPLE CAN'T GO TO HEAVEN."
I think we all know who was shocked by that remark.

Devil in the Details

I was real proud of these ceramic novelty drawer knobs that I installed on the inside sliding screen window of the van. Then I remembered that I can't swallow my pride and I have no friends who will appreciate the cactus and the lone wolf.
In other news my window renewal project is fixing to be a disaster because I bought the last roll of butyl tape in Kingston and now I think there will be nothing easy about getting this to keep water out for the first time in 42 years. This leaked every storm and is partly responsible for the black mold on my wedding shirt. But as I took it apart I found multiple layers of tape. Was that a mistake or is that the only way to make it work? I suspect it will not be waterproof. Like I said, "Either it will get better or worse." And that's an improvement because at this point I'm tired of fighting the same war.

At least the transmission band has lasted 50 miles. I'm ready to go to Guatemala for the winter. Who's coming!

Obligatory Fall Post

Can I take care of this in one post?
New England has her finest dress on.
[Enter your favorite Robert Frost poem here]

Monday, October 24, 2011


 I think if I expanded on the feather-light hair and the teeth too big for a carrot cake and the buttoned up striped shirt and the right parted bangs and the freckles from the summer sun soaked in at Kittery and Rye and the attempt to hide my big elephant ears, and the chocolate darkness of my eyes, I would ruin an otherwise innocent picture.
This was before Young Oggy learned what a commodotized broker/dealer world was.

This guy means business.

Saturday, October 22, 2011


"Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine. I'll taste your strawberries and drink your sweet wine..."

Friday, October 21, 2011

Desperate Plea for Help

Housework For Place to Camp in My Van - $1 (Portsmouth)

Date: 2011-10-21, 4:55PM EDT
Reply to: [Errors when replying to ads?]

I'm living in my van to save money and to revolt against an elite capitalist culture, but the Walmart parking lot has recently passed a Jim Crow law evicting those dwelling in vehicles and soon a winter parking ban will ensure I become close friends with a tow truck driver. In rural Canada I did not feel like a fugitive nor was I treated like a suspicious predator, but this status unfortunately does not apply to urban New Hampshire where minds are as closed as the Memorial Bridge, periodically opening to allow conservative brainwashing to pass through to the dry salt piles of their consciousness. Alas, that is where you come in, my savior, my open minded rebel! I've got more skills than I can list but I guard them against abuse. If Pride-fullness were an Olympic sport I would win a gold medal. If you speak to me as a service worker/landscaper/pool cleaner/painter then the next sound you hear will be the engine of my van roaring to life and driving me away. Yes, we have all grown accustomed to hiring carpenters so we can bad-mouth them at the next cocktail party, but I'll not be a punchline in anyone's stale joke. Check out the resume section of craigslist for that ilk of laborer.
I am disillusioned with public schools, lean manufacturing, temp agencies addicted to drug testing and political fraud. CEOs can scam 40 million dollars worth of pension funds and get two weeks in jail but if you live in your storage unit and smoke pot then you will be hunted by dogs through a swamp and tasered until your balls explode. You'll be in jail 6 months waiting for the DA to decide what to charge you with. I wish I was making it up but all the symptoms of cultural collapse appear in the news every day.

I want to reinvent America in the image of rural Canada. If you want to help me by allowing me to live in my van in your backyard/field/geodesic dome then let's talk some treason.
Note: emails will be forwarded to FBI for security clearance. AND you will be drug tested at your own expense for the privilege of having me live in your backyard. I don't want to live with no stoners!
If you ask me nicely I'll rake your lawn and help you install a mosaic tile floor in your bathroom and get that piece of shit '75 Mustang in your garage running again. Videography on demand! Skilled Cooper and Cod Fisherman! I can do everything except swallow my pride!
  • Location: Portsmouth
  • it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

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Jim Crow Laws Rule Seacost

Let it be known that when every employer demands I piss in a cup to have it tested for cocaine or pot or crystal meth then THIS IS EVIDENCE OF A POISONED SOCIETY. It's like people testing water for cholera before drinking it. Hey! Maybe address the root of the problem and not what fluid is coming out of my cock! Like, maybe think twice about opening the Texas border to Mexican truck drivers who only survive by snorting crystal meth and taking bribes from cocaine cartels to smuggle cocaine to Dallas. I think determining whether I have personally snorted cocaine in the last few weeks (and thus determine my eligibility to shred paper) is too far down the food chain to make a difference. I wonder if employers think this is working to eliminate drug users from society. If they are that stupid then I question if they are smart enough to employ me.

I am so puzzled by the job market today. It's dog eat dog with temp agencies taking over the role of hatchet man and piss tester for lean manufacturing jobs that pay just enough to ensure starvation and then be shocked when an employee quits after three weeks. THEY MADE ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY SOME MORE COCAINE. THEY DON'T NEED YOU ANYMORE AND THEY STILL RESENT BUYING THE BLADDER CLEANSE SO THEY PASSED THE PISS TEST. The temp agency blames the shiftless employee while taking $5 of every $10 the employer pays. HOW IS THIS WORKING? It seems that, again, the middleman gets paid to do a shitty job while the employer constantly retrains revolving stoners and the stoners cycle through dead end temp jobs. During my time (2 months) packing Hockey equipment, I witnessed about a dozen different people 'trained' to do the job. 3 lasted longer than me, 7 vanished and two were arrested for theft of hockey equipment. Congratulations, America! You know who should've been fired? THE FUCKING TEMP AGENT! Lately, I've seen a dramatic decline in the performance of temp agents. I wonder if they are hired through another temp agency to be temp agents? And so on and so forth until we all have our own temp agencies hiring robotic surrogates of ourselves to pretend to be bosses so we can hire each other and rub a dub dub like rubes in a tub.

Oh, I'm beaten down by it all. When the nation is addicted to Fox media then those who think it is crazy will be the crazy ones. The paradigm will always lean toward the greatest majority no matter how sickly depraved. Everyone wants to stick it to The Man but all I see is a ton of talk by big mouths chewing Big Macs. Television manufactured a generation of apathetic junkfood addicts and we really do deserve to be Chinese servants. When the Red China flag is raised over downtown Portsmouth I'm sure everyone will be watching it on Fox television with a bag of neon marshmallows in their lap and a dialysis machine at their side.

Another Jim Crow law that has recently been passed is the "No Overnight Parking" signs I see everywhere. They were not prevalent in Canada but in Corporate America you will soon have to take a piss test to buy the steroid injected fried chicken at the Walmart Hot Deli. SAVE THE FETUS STARVE THE BABY TEST THE HIPPIE FUCK THE PEOPLE

Thursday, October 20, 2011

tranny pics

This is petty stuff. IT was a non-stop tranny fest to get the van running again. I'm not convinced the band will last but so far it's running like I remember it should. New oil and filter. New tranny fluid. new modulator. exhaust clamp fixed the exhaust leak. I found this alien species living in my transmission. Looks like a cousin of the thrombolites.
Then back to portsmouth for the interview that proved any asshole can get state department contracts to scan paper. These idiots couldn't find their own balls with a map and they are in charge of all visa documents being scanned. hahaha. It would be funny if tax dollars weren't being spent to buy their food. Can't do any job? Work for the government. I will probably fail the FBI clearance check because I left the country recently. Boo Hoo I don't get a minimum wage job processing paper. Makes no difference. Skills are all that matter and this company is only skilled at getting frivolous contracts. So is that good or bad? I can't tell in a vapid world of state depatments throwing money at vague corporate buffoons. Are they trying to waste money? It seems so but it won't be wasted on me. I prefer to work for people with more skills than the ability to smile and act knowledgeable.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Dr. Zhivago Heals My Wounds

"Though he was greatly drawn to art and history, he scarcely hesitated over the choice of a career. He thought that art was no more a vocation than innate cheerfulness or melancholy was a profession. He was interested in physics and natural science and believed that a man should do something socially useful in his practical life. He settled on medicine."
B. Pasternak 1958

This is the passage that I would like to read to any artist who is undecided in his or her life. Maybe it applies to the Occupy Wall Street folks but like I said, there is a fraudulent element to the government and to the corporations. We need to be protected from Walmart no less than from Mexican drug cartels. And if the government is not going to do that then, like in 1862, we must take matters into our own hands. But that is a totally separate argument from getting a liberal arts degree and then whining that it's too hard to find a job...while Hatian immigrants work 62 hours a week and smile. But then I think, "It's no longer a question of who can do the best job, but who can work the most for the least, who can survive on the least amount of money." Basically, there is always someone more desperate than you so your low wage job is at risk of being even lower wage because the bloated market of unskilled, redundant laborers is growing with every unaborted fetus. Is that ideal challenge? In a world of 7+ billion people, yes. It will never be ideal. So, if we are revolting because we are not being protected by the government then isn't it better to eliminate the government? I mean, it's already totally bought and sold by Exxon and IBM and Apple. Who is kidding whom? There is no guaranteed protection from the free market. We live in a meat market and as we are shuttled to the slaughterhouse people are complaining that it's too cold. Ha! How about burn the slaughterhouse down? Food for thought!

Rain Dampens Dirt Not Spirits

I nearly tore the roof off my van when a tree limb snagged the stove pipe in the chicken man's driveway. Here I am superglue-ing the screws that hold on the rain cap. Imagine my surprise when I filled the transmission back up with 5 quarts of fluid and when I shifted I did not move forward or back off the ramps. It turned out that the thing takes 6.7 quarts to fill. I actually had the tranny in drive when I was pouring the fluid in and at around 5.8 quarts the hydraulic modulation kicked in and almost drove me off the ramp into the chicken coop. It will be a miracle if the new tranny band lasts because the drum is scored and the band is cheap and the mechanic has a bad back and one of his toenails is black from jungle disease. His prolapsed hemorrhoids are not making a comeback, fortunately.

Hobo Gets Fingernails Filthy

This is a big improvement over the dirt roads in Labrador where I've done my most recent work. There's a Napa a few miles away from here and a chicken and a pizza place. I'm not happy but I'm not miserable either. Today was a test of the brain and I failed. I was driving around with my head cut off dropping off laundry, cleaning the stove, loading the moped, hunting for my shoes and the phone rings. I pull over because I am not an asshole who drives while talking on the phone.
"This is HOV."
"We'd like to see you."
"Who are you?"
A jogger passes me. I need to do a million things so I can take the transmission apart and I have no time for guessing games.
"Remind me who HOV is."
"We contract for the state department."
"Ah, paper processing?"
"Great. What can I do for you?"
"You filled out an application."
"I did."
"Do you know why you were let go?"
This guy sounds like a newly hired temp agent learning his way around the job. He seems to be confusing me with someone who cares."
"Listen. I'm at liberty. Do you have work?"
"We'd like you to come in and interview at the Hilton."
"Will there be stale brownies?"
"I think so..."
"Well count me in. When do the cookies arrive?"
"1 PM."
"Then I'll be there."
I realize I'll only be there if 2 chickens can fly 40 miles with Oggy on their back, but who cares. It's an interview!

Oggy Admiring the Valve Body
I hang up, drop the laundry off, drive back, eat a slice of pizza, gawk at the field hockey girls on their way to practice, run up the wooden fire escape, notice some spots I missed when I painted it in the Spring so I race into the basement and find some paint. It's a close match and I touch up my stairs. Then I clean. I pack. I race up and down the stairs to pack the van. I stage everything outside on the porch. Then I check the dirty oil and see a note on the windshield. More hate mail, I figure. "Get off the street you hippie!" or something. I stuff the note in my pocket. I hate this town. I hate these nosy assholes on this street peeking out of their window blinds. I want to leave asap so I slam the door. Right, I'll be a TESOL tutor for these snobby assholes. Never! I burn rubber up Elwyn Ave as Led Zeppelin blares from my speakers.

I drive 40 minutes to Nottingham in a rage. And since there is some light left I dive into the transmission, pan, gasket, valve body, snip the broken band in half and hook out the parts as a rain of hot red fluid fills my face. The tranny drum is scored like a skateboard wheel. It's hopeless to think the new band will last but to replace the drum is to drop the tranny and replace everything. $1500 job or two weeks Oggy Style. And I've got chickens roosting on my head so there is no way I'm dropping the tranny. Chicken man has some work to do and I go to grab my computer...where the hell?...I look. OH FUCK. I left the computer back on the porch in the rain along with all my food! and my transmission is in pieces on a damp lawn. I reach into my pocket and find the hate mail and read it to amuse myself. "Oggy, I'm back in town. Stop by"
Hell, it's a friend I haven't seen in a year.
I knew the timing was bad on this recent eviction but it's always interesting to see what part of the plan crumbles first. Computer spends the night in the rain. Tranny is fucked. Job interview is in jeopardy. Chickens roosting in the van. Neck sprained and beard is gray. This is gypsy shit.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Harvest Hooked Rug

Now it's done. I see how my inability to draw a straight line works to my advantage in rug hooking. Maybe I'm a rug hooking savant. One might look at this and think I made good choices and I'd say no, that's just me being naturally messy. That pumpkin was drawn as a perfect circle but I couldn't follow the line. Or another way to think about it is this is how I perceive the world: primitive. So maybe the whole paradigm of public school which is to fit all the pegs into square holes is not realistic. When I taught music in grade school I tried to emphasize the vast options in the music industry from producers who can't play a harmonica to sound engineers to instrumentalists...etc. So, I may have found the craft that takes advantage of my disabilities...something to ponder as I move back into the van to live at the park and ride. I didn't get an interview but I have something nice to look at during the few hours of light.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Am I Ready for 2?

I'll be using a variety of resources to determine my emotional age. If anyone has a better yardstick then let me know. Here's a site that has this to say...*
I want to direct your attention to the bottom of this post where a poll will allow you to pinpoint this important opinion.
"And while your child is fiercely proud of her emerging independence, at other times she's still a baby, making your job one of juggling multiple personalities."

This sounds very familiar.

"Cognitive development

Talking milestone

What to expect your child to achieve by the end of the year:

  • Can point to an object or picture when it's named by someone else
  • Understands names of familiar objects, body parts, and people
  • Can talk in two- to four-word sentences"
Unless I've had too many White Russian cocktails, I think I can do all these things which actually leads me to decide I should only concentrate on emotional milestones and not cognitive ones. So here they are...

Social and emotional development

Separation and independence milestone

What to expect your child to achieve by the end of the year:
  1. Demonstrates a desire for independence — she may insist on wearing her purple pajamas five nights in a row
  2. Begins to show defiant behavior to test her limits (coloring on the walls, for example, even if you tell her not to)
  3. Decreases separation anxiety

I'm confused already. Is this a list of what to expect from a normal two year old? Or is this what to expect when everything is going horribly for most parents? Let's take them in order.

  1. I demonstrate a desire for independence. In fact, I've worn my purple pants for the last 5 days. How odd. Maybe purple pants is a two year old fetish.
  2. One only needs to look at my recent border crossing for defiant behavior. So, I guess I pass that one. Or did I fail? Is defiance expected of 2 year old girls but 40 year old men should conform and comply obediently like McDonalds drones?
  3. Separation Anxiety. Uh-oh. It doesn't say the two year old has conquered separation anxiety. So, I think emotionally I'm at least a below average two year old.
What do you think?

Bonus Question: Toilet training milestone

  • Able to hold urine for three hours or more
 I barely pass this test as I must piss more often than I like to admit now that my prostate and sphincter have applied for early retirement.
 *This article makes me think of a funny parody, "What to expect from your 40 year old." hahaha

Oggy's Emotional Age

Old Man of The Mountain

 There were hundreds of people on Mt. Major even though I promised myself I would only hike it at night. But how else can you see the nice colors?

Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.