Monday, January 28, 2013


My time off from the oil field after the embezzlement and fraud scam cost everyone their job was mostly spent in recovery as my spine, shoulder, neck and knees all revolted. And I made the mistake of putting my television near my bed so I could watch it at night when the spasms of pain made moving impossible. I also have a mirror so I could watch myself lose my mind as network television has sunk to incredibly low depths of reality shows and then shows that show bloopers of the reality shows with commentary.
 It reminds me of the lifestyle and mentality of Hollywood when I lived there and you don't know vacuous and frail and vain behavior until you spend some time in Santa Monica. That you can get paid taking pictures of celebrities picking their nose and then get paid to mock those celebrities while your video plays in slow motion with thought bubbles and sound effects and then you get a spinoff sitcom based on your own celebrity stalking...that was all considered totally acceptable and even desirable. Killing someone is only cool if you behead them or do it to perpetrate a race war.
As a friend said once of L.A. culture: "If this isn't tasteless, then what is?"
Truly, if you took the most depraved person in Labrador and brought him to Santa Monica he would be immediately humbled by the most commonplace events perpetrated by average Starbucks baristas. I almost let that kind of paradigm suck me into the moral mire when a friend ran into a homeless lady and her shopping cart riding his motorcycle and THE ONLY RESPONSE I THOUGHT OF WAS HOW TO TURN IT INTO A CLAY-MATION MUSIC VIDEO OR COMIC BOOK SERIES. Before I could even finish plans the homeless lady had her own agent and a fan club on Twitter and her panties were up for auction on Ebay. We are talking about essential corruption, poisoning the well, core rot. I fled in the nick of time.

Tire Failure

1974 Vespa Ciao in the shop
I admit I am living with one foot in the past and one foot in the present. The future and I never cross paths. My moped has a bad crimp in the rear rim from someone going over a curb in Mexico drunk on false love and tequila. Then a spoke broke so it was like riding a fucking Carousel horse down the street. I got a replacement spoke (real easy to find for a 1974 moped) but the whole rear wheel and chain assemblies have to be removed for this to happen. I did that since I'm finally feeling human and mobile and Spring has apparently arrived on January 20th to Texas (84 degrees) meaning humanity is totally fucked because the climate is completely upside down.

Recuva data rescue review

The outpouring of concern over my losing all the footage from one of the most implausible adventures of the 21st century was overwhelming. The letters arrived from all corners of the globe. But never worry! I'm too obsessed with the past and my ego would not allow the loss of all these photos of my crippled feet and Bakeapple or Bunchberries and birds and hundreds of pictures of my bell bottom pants. I decided to get serious. There was at least $1000 worth of music on that drive not to mention irreplaceable pictures of me wearing 70s clothes in Labrador. But Three different computers coughed and laughed when I tried to get that hard drive to mount. The computer repair place looked at me like I was trying to dub a John Denver cassette tape from 1982 to Blueray DVD. Another failure. I even put the thing in the freezer hoping it would work but it didn't. Maybe I should've baked it at 350 for an hour. The external drive had no fan so it always would overheat. I was a fool to use it to edit video. It was strictly designed to be used while it was backing up files and then shut down. I mean, it had an ac/adapter plug!
Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.