Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Rotten Eggs

I smell like Hydrogen Sulfide. And the evil irony of my blighted morals is that we installed two 90 watt solar panels today that will power the electronic units we also installed. And this is the chicken bone that has me choking in the night on my own self-loathing: even clean energy aids and abets the enemy. Perforating trucks split layers of earth and then inject fine engineered sand into the layers, and then a gel of mysterious properties...and this technique allows oil to seep through the sand to the horizontally drilled suction tubes. That's if the Louisiana pipe fitters didn't try to foolishly pass someone on a double yellow line and wind up with a steering wheel as a necklace.

I'm going to enroll in a year long pipe fitter course because I don't want any redneck to be more skilled than me. If I can't learn to pipe fit then I'm going to punch Chuck e Cheese in the face. They also earn $80/hr and work about 20 minutes a day but get paid for 12 hours. Did you know they x-ray every pipeline weld 4 times? Yeah, x-ray machine looking at ten million welds. We know more about a pipeline than we do about our own hearts.

Speaking of mice, we saw a rattlesnake eating a rabbit and the driver drove over the snake's face, laughing as half of it slithered away to become vulture lunch. My defense of that deadly animal would be considered pointless and something the old Oggy would aspire to but lately I see the futility in everything. You strive and strive to protect the wolf by burning fossil fuels derived from lizard guts...and then destroy snakes on your way to install solar panels designed to assist oil well accessories directly linked to hydro-fracturing. Wild hogs are chased by dogs and shot dead by chubby rednecks. Totally haphazard and indefensible.

"I'm a member of PETA," said the guy I worked with at the trailer park. "People who Eat Tasty Animals" and he chuckled with red faced cheeks while I was unamused at his stagnant world view...but I grinned because he was trying to be funny and since I'm the long haired hippy scum bag who is the curse of Texas then everyone can tell me to go back to Austin. OK. Point taken. I'm such an asshole for wanting to swim in an ocean that isn't polluted.

I'm going to learn more about hydrofracturing if it kills me. I'll know more about it than the PR guy at Exxonmobile whose propaganda you can read in the left sidebar. Now I can have debates with him like, "I work in the oil field and everything you are saying is horseshit." He works in a Dallas office navigating his crooked morality. I dodge rattlesnakes and a scorpion tried to climb in my pocket this morning as an H2S fog lifted before the blazing sun. Who would you believe?

My neck actually was burned to a crisp today in the 98 degree sun since the neck hasn't seen the sun in five years.

I smell like rotten eggs because the lingering H2S clings to my skin. It reminds me constantly of when Ethan D. dropped a stink bomb in the Ports. jr. high school stairwell. That's a tiny capsule of H2S that was legal in 1981 and caused much distress as we 13 year olds with fine pubic hair on our lips and wild sex fantasies that would never come true all dove for cover as maps of Africa and lab reports fell like futile leaves to the worn tile floor. I was in love with Kim M. and would bicycle near her house on the off chance that she would be raking leaves in her underwear. All these memories flood back to my jaded brain until someone tells me to put a respirator on and risk my life so a truck driver doesn't have to walk 20 feet.

The best quote from today was, "I gotta piss like a racehorse gettin' chased by a Kentucky glue truck."


Anonymous said...

Consider yourself lucky your'e not a welder, 98 degrees is nothing compared to the flash burn you will get.

Hopefully you will start to smoke Marlboro reds as well as drink Budweiser.

I feel verklempt with opposition on your recent lifesyle change. Not that I don't see it as a collosal collapse of your stubborn will, but yet of your willingness to snip the tits of bohemianism, in lieu of actually creatively finding an alternative that didn't face fuck the last 648 blog posts.

I love you, but only with regular underwear.

Oggy Bleacher said...

Bob Dylan went electric and I drink Lone Star beer in a haze of second hand smoke and Grizzly chaw spit. Speaking of smoke, my previous lifestyle is burning in effigy as the martyr's rags I wore for 2 decades no longer fit the universal paradigm that has usurped Hermann Hesse's utopian vision.

There are Trappist Monasteries that would welcome me with Latin chants but their belief that prayer for peace in solitary Iowa farmland retreats will be answered by God is no more crazy than my belief that God answered my own desperate prayers with a job in the hydro-fracturing industry. It makes so little sense that it must be God's hand washing my Spiderman underoos.

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