Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Pre-determined Life

I'm lately favoring the philosophy of pre-destiny. Technically, all objects stay in motion until they meet another object and then the reaction will be determined by the characteristics of those two objects. Some might say that personality and choice are part of those characteristics but I'm in favor of mathematics like weight and hair color. Because of the slant angle of my nose a woman will be repelled or attracted to me and will approach or flee. And that sets in motion a series of chain reactions that I have no control over and will lead to my destiny.

Monday, August 27, 2012



Today was 102 degrees with 50% humidity which means it feels like 124 degrees. I collapsed near one of the water meters I was reading (out of 200 units) as the radiation off the vinyl siding and the direct sunlight made me feel like a rotisserie chicken.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Magic Mike

My easiest decision of the week was which $1 movie to see on Friday Night. It was like a menu of apocalyptic signs: Abraham Lincoln The Vampire Hunter or Magic Mike (male striptease formula movie). Let there be no doubt that the Puritan utopia the passengers of The Mayflower hoped to cultivate in the new world has come and gone, replaced by the depths of purile and peasant mockery.

The Abe movie was in 3D and I didn't want to wear glasses so I went to the stripper movie. I'm secure in my own sexuality. If Matthew McConaughey can prance around in spandex and an elephant nose cock sleeve then I can watch him do that. It was no Gone With The Wind

I was indifferent to the movie because it was a formula stolen from every afternoon special I've ever seen: Hero meets new kid. Kid has protective pretty sister. Hero's lifestyle repulses Sister. Kid turns to the dark side. Hero realizes his relationships are shallow and abandons lifestyle for hopeful sex with sister.

Yawn. But director Steven Soderberg saved this flick from the trash heap because he actually decided to force the actors to act. Long dance sequences are shot without cuts. Dialogue is directed mostly in a theatrical setting. He showed cock. MM's shaved ass fills the screen at one point. He was professional about the directing and the movie is not as horrible as the script. I'll go watch Abe kill zombies another night.

Shit Creek

Stay Cool on 102 degrees days by wearing airtight hazmat suit. (Mattress is drying out after a mishap with ice chest)
It's a clusterfuck at the trailer park.
"I've seen shit fights at the monkey cage more organized than this," said the scooter man who got fired last week for reasons I can't go into.
An absolute clusterfuck with Oggy in the mess. I'm almost to the point where I'm saving money but I also have a dentist appointment coming up so that should eat up any profit from the last month. When it costs $2000 to make $2000 then you can do the math on how much money I've saved so far.

But I'm trying to stay positive. The park tried to fire me but the housekeeper had a fit and threatened to quit. I don't know why. She trusts me, I guess. But she's trapped because she lives there and the managers don't know what they are doing. I don't know what I expected. People like Colin Powell and Bill Gates don't flock to trailer parks to become managers. Basically, if you aren't a thief and can make decisions eventually then you can manage a trailer park. Or I should say, you can mismanage a trailer park.

Revisiting 1982

I have not been meeting my reflections on 1982 quota lately and I'm running out of time. This song by Fleetwood Mac remains embedded in my storyboard of 1982 along with a few other choice tunes.

 It was the year I paid attention to music. Thriller, by Michael Jackson was released. A new wave of British Rock arrived with The Cure and Flock of Seagulls and Duran Duran. The River by Bruce Springsteen, a double album that I wouldn't fully appreciate for 20 more years was released in 1981. American and British rock was mostly dance music, fun and upbeat. Disco was no longer a white kid's music as Donna Summer kept the flame burning. The closest I got to Motown was Def Jam records' Run DMC.

1982 is a landmark year in popular music as MTV gained full power of music videos. I'd watched music videos on Channel 56 out of Boston but MTV had a format that was more pleasing and budgets such as Thriller mini-movie started demanding more and more respect. But I like to put things in perspective and if I had been forced to listen to Rosemary Clooney when I was 11 years old it would be absolutely no different than letting an 11 year old listen to Jack & Diane by John Cougar Mellencamp today. I basically did not listen to music from 1952 when the year was 1982. 1952 was such a dusty concept that it was outside of my realm. Even 1962 was pre-Beatles. 1952 was 30 years before 1982 and 1982 is 30 years ago now. This sort of blows my mind. But now I love music from 1952 and consider pre-rock and roll to be the most pleasing ever recorded. Pink Floyd is still my favorite but only because it appeals to my philosophy of anti-corporate activism and philosophical contemplation through minor pentatonic scales. But give me Patti Page and I drift into an ideal sleep. Percy Faith is Xanax for my brain.

Mall Cop

I'm naked and listening to Tusk by Fleetwood Mac, like any sophisticated person would do on a Friday Evening.
Suddenly there is a banging on the barn doors of my van. WTF?
"Hold on, hold on," I say with annoyance and grief in my tone. I slowly get dressed, slowly put my Batman underoos on and my shorts. I figure that's dressed so I sit by the window (the curtains are all covering the windows) until the guy bangs on the side of the van again.
"Just a minute!"
At this point I should've gotten the camera out because what followed was a classic encounter with the Target Mall Cops. I'm stalling to make sure he regrets every minute he wasted before he dropped out of Community College.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Heat Index

If you're wondering what people leave behind in storage lockers, take a good look. Fringe Jersey shirt by WINGS of Los Angeles circa 1991. I really thought about selling it on Ebay but delivered it along with the spiders to Goodwill.

How Oggy Survives

A reader asks, "How do you stay clean cut and presentable for your job at the trailer park?"
 This is a good question. Normally, I let nature take its course and pay no attention to facial hair or body odor. Metrosexuality is one thing I am opposed to like Chick Fil A is opposed to gays. God may hate fags but Oggy hates body image manipulation and metrosexuality, or the grooming of oneself to meet standards created by board room crack junkies who suck lipstick manufacturer's cocks and get fucked by shampoo CEOs, is abhorrent.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Jack in The Box Crew Totally Makes Fun of You

Sources confirmed today that the night crew of the local Jack in The Box that you go to "totally talk shit about you" once you drive away.

An employee who agreed to speak on the condition of anonymity said, "Of course we make fun of you when you drive away. Who wouldn't?"

The employee said that nothing was off limits once you were out of hearing range and listed the topics of unbridled mockery as, "Music, voice tone, speech patterns, clothes, menu selections, vehicle type, family, weight, skin color, everything."


I've been writing a song about Harry Connick Jr. for almost a year. That's longer than it took Bruce Springsteen to write and record the entire "Born To Run" album. It's a simple song that states my wish to be like Harry Connick Jr., or more accurately, to actually be Harry Connick Jr.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


My birthday was once New Year's Day, but Julius Caesar changed it when he added a couple weeks to the calendar. Don't ask me why.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012


A day after I wrote about the evils of private property and the manifest masquerade of police enforcement of the law of sovereignty that Americans blatantly ignored when it worked in the favor of the Kickapoo or the Karankawan tribes...a constable in College Station, Texas served an eviction notice on a dude who might have felt the same way as I do, but this guy shot the constable dead and another civilian was killed and then the guy himself was shot dead. So I redacted those posts about private property because I am conflicted about their effect. What I really want is the constables to stop serving eviction notices. That would be a good sign. But when renters who get served eviction notices start shooting then really nothing is accomplished.

Otis Blows Soul Blues

I live in the dark most of the evening so you might as well hear me in my element. I'm shirtless and eating a makeshift mechanically separated turkey sandwich with avocado that I squeeze onto the bread with my fingers and the food is falling on my bare chest. I talk while chewing and gesture wildly with my hands and then slump forward in defeat and then regain my composure and shake my fist at the sky. It really was a great performance but I forgot to turn the overhead light on so you'll never see it.

The Legacy of ARE Pitiful Schools

Is there a site that collects sign board mistakes?
 The real kick in the ass is that directly behind my shoulder to the north is a Whataburger franchise that has on their sign board,
"Come in and try what's new on our menu"
So, all the nimrod spelling "OUR" had to do is turn around for the right letters. They didn't even need to google it or nothing. Simple! But no. They tried to spell it phonetically and in Texas that's how you pronounce OUR.
"Try Are Ice Coffee. It's Guud."
I swear texting and low literacy are going to give me a heart attack.
M stands for Mistake

Monday, August 13, 2012

Fat and Happy

Excellent Brisket Taco at Taqueria Almeida #1
Brisket Tacos come with pickles and onion. I liked it!

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Gold Wing

My whole life feels like I'm staring down a broken machine

This is the wrong connector to test the stator

No Go

I think the car with the round rear windows is a 1963 Chevy Nova Super Sport SS

Tuesday, August 7, 2012


These dogs live in the drainage pipe. Luckily it won't rain for another century so they are safe.

Nobody Knows Me

To properly sing this song I have to feel completely beaten down. I'm living in a junk yard. It's 110 degrees outside and the pillows feel like they've been in an oven set at 350 degrees for two hours. My prostate aches. Skin flaps on my hands where the lawnmower has torn it off. I'm using too much gas to get to work and have decided to sleep on the street again where the police will definitely harass me. I don't sound like Otis Redding, who slam dunks this song into my soul, but I'm done playing by the rules. With one week of work I've dug myself out of the hole I was in and am closer to the Mexican border. My mission is becoming more clear and I've decided to find a man of the earth. Maybe a family. Someone who sees the earth as holy and who has either not been poisoned by the billboard media monstrosity we've unleashed or else has purified himself. I want to meet that person and learn from him. Since I was banned from the library I've had to find refuge in McDonalds where I can drink a cup of iced tea for $1. A new development is the televisions that run non stop in McDonalds and Burger King. This is why I always like to get out of my comfort zone because liberals will never know how the other side is winning the war. Fat, Sugar, salt, lies. The channel is permanently fixed to Fox News and over my third cup of iced tea I watched "The O'reilly factor." It was an abomination but it was also the perfect circus-like presentation. It's all Good Cop/Bad Cop. This is bad bad bad...good good good. I laughed out loud because the propaganda was so perfectly obvious. It's right out of 1984 with faces speaking to you as you eat and there's no where to hide. The news was completely inciteful...rape...incest...child pornography....

Odds and Ends

Jarritos Belt Buckle

This belt buckle is finished. It's not perfect but it's done. I also found a Texas belt buckle at the flea market that looks like I won the rodeo. totally awesome

Saturday, August 4, 2012

"That's It. I Quit"

Horrible Texas drivers. The "150" is how many miles it will go without a problem.
Although I foresee myself saying those fateful words, I am too desperate at this point to put myself back on the job market. The job as a fleet mechanic assistant paid $10.14 which should make all parents quiver with fear. Absolute poverty wages for the person responsible for the oil in you child's school bus. No, I'm content where I am at, but my coworker Jose, finally had enough on Thursday and quit. What's funny is that I was told he would be fired on Friday but he didn't know that. Why they were keeping him around to totally mess up the tile job in the unit we were working on is testament to how disorganized they are at the park. Let's keep this guy around for one more day to milk him for weed eating and tiling that we won't be satisfied with. Uh, why not fire him yesterday? So, on Monday I was #3 of 3. By Friday I'm #1 of 1 since I further learn that another coworker is basically the housekeeper who has been forced into attempting repairs and actually doesn't know what a socket is. I thought she was just scatterbrained because I'm wondering why I was taking orders from someone who can't use a screwgun. Now I know. Jose wasn't happy at the job and they weren't happy with Jose.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Cool Windows

Here's a cool old car that will never run again.

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