Meatball Mail

Some people get greeting cards in their mailbox; Oggy gets frozen meatballs. And his mail box is a paint tray. If I live long enough I will deliver food bank frozen meatballs to the kid trying to fix my 40 year old furnace. I'll consider it payment for his labor. I will be blind and have no memory of my days in the oil field and will long have ceased to log in to my blog because I forgot the password or the point. My friends will be dead from heart attacks and economic hardships. Their children will never think of me.

Electricity 101

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As I've said, this blog is useless to me as anything more than a plastic fuck doll that I blow up and fuck with the curtains closed and then deflate and shove under the bed. ANYTHING THAT I ACTUALLY NEED comes from other media like real life or diy forums or mechanical forums. IF you want pictures intended for you then take a good look. CAN YOU FIGURE OUT THE PROBLEM?? My audience has let me down for 5 years, they have mocked me and insulted me and ignored my plight so I'm plainly and frankly vexed and disgusted by their uselessness to me. I amuse myself for my own amusement and I do it publicly. If you have a voyeuristic integrity cultivated over the time span of your teenage ambitions then go ahead and amuse yourself with my canvas. ENJOY! But I have been called a rat and a coward and a traitor and a scumbag and other unmentionables IN MY OWN HOUSE and so I have nothing but disdain and repulsion for humanity. It's 28 degrees and my testosterone has deflated my chemical imbalance and I get smarmy responses to my depressing demise. I got laid off for Christmas and I have a spine injury and a neck pain that makes sleeping impossible and I'm a big clown that dances on the sidewalk for quarters from millionaires. It's gross and I'm constipated and sleep in my clothes for warmth. The cast iron bathtub with no shower cools off the water before I can get warm. Blah blah blah, another Oggy drama that bores almost no one. It's a new year and I'm done being polite.