Saturday, October 20, 2018

God vs Oggy

Really ponderous times. I believe I overstayed my welcome in this region of the world. I felt the wolves closing in but I was trapped by obligations. Then the storm hit with a minor insult of having my uniform stolen by a visitor while I was demolishing a bathroom. I can't describe how annoying it is to wait a year to buy a Gvt. issue uniform that is only available to gvt. employees and have it stolen just after the uniform ordering system closes for the winter. What a damn vile thing to happen considering it was my winter uniform. Oh, but Oggy isn't done with his complaints. He's just warming up. The shit that would follow made him forget completely about his stolen uniform.

The next evil thing that happened was my RAM ports on my laptop computer fried one day due to condensation from my freezing Oggy breath. great! So I'm in the market for another computer.

Then, out of the fucking azure sky my right eye swelled up and started pouring tears and could not tolerate light. Even my left eye was affected. This was pure trauma, blind in one eye, stumbling around, got some old anti-biotics and poured it in the eye and got immediate relief, but it didn't last. A day later the evil blindness returned even worse and the anti-biotics didn't help. So I went to a doctor who gave me different anti-biotics, which gave me no relief. Finally I went to an eye doctor who said I did not have conjunctivitis so anti-biotics were not the right medicine. I had Uveitis, and what I needed was ointment extracted from Mermaid Tears at around $300 for a tiny amount. The bills were absolutely piling up at a time when I needed to save money. Blind, spending money hand over fist for brand-name Mermaid Tear extract, still working with one eye on a ridiculous copper chimney roof project that gets more complicated every day.
Simply find a mortar joint in the round rock stacked chimney that was never intended to employ copper flashing. Chip the mortar out like you are escaping prison and custom fit 40 different pieces of copper flashing. Oh, and do it all with ONE FUCKING EYE.


But the absolute cream de la cream was what followed a few days ago when I looked at the tool shed ten feet away from where I park El Conquistador on federal property and noticed something was missing. 


MY FUCKING MOTORCYCLE WAS MISSING!



One motorcycle club I did not want to join.


This is disappointing on many levels. Not only did the fucking meth freak thieves who wander this area like zombies finally break down the protective barrier I had built around my possessions, not only did I lose my main mode of transportation off this mountain, not only am I blind, not only is my computer broken and my winter uniform stolen...but the worst of it is that I allowed a dirty horse thieving piece of shit to get his hands on a vintage 38 year old Japanese motorcycle. It's unforgivable. I failed to protect that motorcycle and it cost us all. I failed the spirit of Yamaha.

I did not ever envision a tweaking piece of shit driving 20 or 30 miles into the mountains in order to steal a motorcycle from federal property, 10 feet from the owner who is sleeping with a sharpened hatchet next to his bed, WITH NO KEY, so he would have to COAST 8 MILES DOWN A WINDING MOUNTAIN in neutral with no lights or engine or helmet (since the cunt left my helmet behind) in order to steal a $500 motorcycle that only goes 50 mph and is so blatantly bright red that no one can miss it after one solid year of me driving it around and everyone in town knows it is mine. No, I did not envision that scenario so I allowed the bike to stay in a tool shed out of sight of the van, where this horse thief happened on it while looking for something to steal in the maintenance shop. He saw it and simply coasted it in neutral down the mountain, which might be the worst plan for stealing a motorcycle I've ever heard of. It's actually unbelievable but I tell you this is the truth. My 1981 Yamaha exciter is gone!

I've thought really homicidal thoughts. Very very homicidal thoughts. I don't think that stealing a 38 year old motorcycle with 4000 original miles is worthy of the death penalty. No. But I'm sure that I would kill whomever stole this bike simply because the world does not have room for trashy, tweaking horse thieves. There is nothing else to do but execute them. Why let them live?, is the question. Why imprison this piece of shit? Why bother? If I tried to protect my bike do you think the thief would've hesitated to kill me to protect his own ass? No, he would not, because he's a piece of shit. So, why should he be shown mercy? How does society benefit from this loathsome donkey shit of a thug?

It hurts me that a trashy junkie got his hands on a truly vintage bike that is so far above his ability to appreciate or even maintain. It kills me like when a work of Picasso's art ends up on placemat where people spill their root beer and pizza sauce. It irks me deeply that some junkie has his filthy, hangnail paws on this unique machine. God, please strike this rotten piece of shit dead with your worst disease. Please. I pray to you. Please make them suffer. Please show them no mercy.

But why would God care about a horse thief? Why? When he can toy with Oggy's eye and computer and uniform and vehicles? 

If you want to know what kind of guy I am: I'm the kind of guy who gets his work uniform stolen, loses an eye to a rare disease, has his computer blow up and then has his vintage motorcycle stolen...all in one week. That's me in a nutshell. That's Oggy.

I don't want to wallow in my grief because life goes on. It must go on until it does not. Yes, I want to murder a vile piece of shit horse thief for stealing my beautiful motorcycle, but I also must concentrate on a future full of other motorcycles. It's true my future will not include any more photos of me and my Yamaha exciter 185, but there will a replacement eventually. 
We had a good run, old friend.

I apologize to that bike from the bottom of my heart that I was not able to protect it from thieving, white trash, redneck, dog cunts. I'm deeply sorry. Be strong even if that hillbilly cocksucker takes a rattle can of paint to try to disguise you. Be brave when that piece of rotten vulture bait tears into your ignition and fuel tank because he was too fucking stupid to steal a bike with keys. If the sheriffs chase you then please, please, let the master chain link come undone and cut the thief's calf open at the knee cap. Please do that, Exciter. 

Otherwise, ride like the well oiled machinery you are. Your new custodian is a piece of shit, that I can assure you, but you are always a warrior and a survivor with other, greater, lives to live. Throttle on, my majestic Exciter!




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