He was small...

That's what they say about the dead man. His clothes are small and slim. Probably was a fag. I say the Levi's bell bottoms are as good as I can ask. They really are as loud as I want and as retro and the bell bottoms are outrageous. If I drop an extra five pounds they'll fit perfect. Thank you Mr. Rolston for the delivery. When I get my ass kicked at the State St. Saloon I will think of you...

Time Warp:

Don't they make you want to disco?

Two steps forward...

Bought two new tires on Friday. I watched the guy try to jack up the van and only half of it moved. It left me with an uneasy feeling. Then he left a tire on that clearly had a huge chunk of steel radial poking through the rubber. You get what you pay for at NTB tire in Newington. $300 I think I bought more problems than I fixed because...

I drove them out to Putuckaway st. park for a test and immediately had one of the remaining Mexican graveyard tires explode on route 156. I'm up to the challenge and swapped it out with one of the tires I had left over. That was just the beginning of the problems as I could hear some serious grinding and the brakes felt a little dodgy and before a hike into Stratham I decided to inspect the rear tires and...yes, that's all the brake fluid pouring onto the road.

What are the odds of taking my van for a thirty mile drive and having a tire blow out and the wheel cylinder fail after taking it to mexico and back with no problem? One visit to a corporate tire garage and the problems just fall from the sky.

So, the call now goes out to all available mechanics. I need jack stands and industrial nut sockets to remove the axle lock nut to get at the wheel cylinders.

I suspected that investing $300 would instantly make me regret it but I thought I'd get at least 24 hours before the first meltdown. No. I got about 15 hours and 15 miles. Rotating those abused tires caused one of them to fly apart and aligning the van's steering may have hurt too. I expect the mere presence of a $9/hr tire monkey with a wrench in his hand was enough to cause the wheel cylinder to rupture. This guy couldn't keep his pants up let alone change two tires without causing more problems.
I got flipped off a couple times because I was driving the speed limit to get home (I had to use the emergency brake to stop at lights) and the police tailed me and called in my info just to keep the neighborhood safe. All this is making it real easy to hit the highway as soon as the mothership is ready for liftoff. Interestingly, none of this was as stressful as building that cable harness with sweat pouring from my eyeballs. (That cable harness passed all QC inspections so you can all sleep easy) It's not stressful to be running against the wind since I know where that wind is blowing...

What I need:

Jack Stands
Wheel Cylinder Rebuild kits
lock nut socket
breaker bar
bleeder tube
brake pads
brake fluid
expert brake team

free beer will be provided.
work begins every day at 3pm
This means you Jon Rolston.

Mother Euthanised...

After viewing an episode of Kate Plus Eight, a local mother of two had to be euthanized to protect nearby civilians. Her children have been taken into protective custody because, says fish and game warden, Michael Foley, "They may have learned bad habits from their mother."

The Kate Plus Eight reality program on The Learning Channel follows a mega rich woman and her eight children through their days. The mother is often signing books or dancing or crying in a limousine and her children are seen as seldom as their father, a man who has separated from the mother and is suing for custody while chasing teen ass and getting tattoos. The tawdry, petty details of these ten people can only be described as "Terribly, terribly wrong. A bad influence on anyone, ugly, unusual, horrific."

So, when a local mother of two admitted to having watched an episode of the reality program state game officials were forced to euthanize her.

"It's a last resort, but we've seen this before. As soon as a mother gets a taste of the putrid soft scripted poison that is [Kate Plus Eight] then that's the end of her. She'll always be back and back until she's completely devoured by vicarious desire for false fame and hollow accolades. We had to do it."

The governor is defending the move saying, "Kate Plus Eight is unfortunately a despicable program that rots the brain of anyone who watches it. Therefore, regretfully, the woman who saw an episode had to put down. We'll try to boost our public service messages about the dangers of this program in the future. It is basically family pornography that totally and permanently distorts a person's view of reality. To view a single episode, indeed a single moment, renders an average person completely crazy. It is irredeemable. Irresponsible. I would say more about it but I'm already gagging on my own vomit by the hint of a suggestion that I know what the program is about. I pray The Learning Channel cancels this program. Please god! Please cancel it!"

The mother's two children were sequestered in cardboard boxes devoid of stimuli in hopes of turning them back from the edge of insanity.

"The two children were unfortunately in the same room at the time the woman watched the program. And they can understand English so it's likely they caught some of the incredibly selfish and pitiful comments from the principal characters. The kids might recover to a pre-Kate Plus Eight emotional level but more than likely they will have to be put in a zoo since all instincts will have been obliterated." Added the official, "Thanks to that damn shitty program."

In other news a man was found with forks in his eyes after he watched a Full House marathon. Neighbors are calling it a mercy killing.

scorpion king

I talk about the future but the future never arrives. It's always today and the people of today don't know what happened yesterday and don't care about tomorrow. Kids born today will have to read in history books about a time when edible seafood was caught in the Gulf of Mexico. And they will not mourn our carelessness any more than we miss a spilled beer from 1993. The damage has been done. Does anyone miss the Buffalo? Or the gray wolf? No, because we never had them to begin with. Not us. Maybe some guy 200 years ago would care if he lived for 200 years. But stuff changes so little in 100 years that every generation finds a way to fit in, finds a way to accept the latest extinct species. Even old curmudgeons like me eventually fit in to their cabin in the woods. Coercive media has terrorized this country into submission like Nazi propaganda tactics obliterating any common sense. Walmart is the new Catholic Church. Amen.

Clock ticking

Most of the times I can say, "At least I've got my health." After all, I made it a priority after 5 years of limping on crutches in the 90s. That and old Grandpa Stevens said you don't have anything if you don't have your health. So, I made it a priority to do things that were generally healthy such as bicycling and living simply with no chemical soaps or packaged food. I didn't say the things were safe, but they were healthy in that Native American way. This worked for the most part except when I threw my back out in the merchant marines so badly that I pissed myself and still feel the bulge of muscles and also when I tore my groin in Wyoming and separated my shoulders...
But really, that shit could happen to anyone. I didn't do it on purpose, but in the pursuit of a healthy lifestyle I crossed the line a few times...but at least I ended up in Alaska, living cheap, reading, crippled, but otherwise heart healthy. My soul was uninjured, is my point.

Alas, sometimes a perfect shit storm arrives and I am not only sick but I am also soullessly vacuuming my morals into outer space. That was the last week of July for me as I did nothing less than fuck dirty old men in port-o-potties for cash (moral equivalent of copper mining)...maybe it was this terrible turn in fortunes and maybe it was the 2X4 scorpion bowl anesthesia administered by Dr. Hawkins. I don't know, but either way I was both soullessly grieving AND ALSO violently ill. That means puking in the parking lot of the very job where I am on short notice due to my behavior (pointing to a diagram and both me and my boss noticing simultaneously that my finger is quivering like a Geiger counter) pale skin, hacking cough, teary eyes. So I must hide my vomit behind car and in bushes and quickly slip into the bathroom to vomit and emerge with a fake smile.
"It's almost Monday." is the fake office humor comments that I grin at.
"Yep. Almost Monday."
I burp vomit flavored gas from my bloated belly and return to my work bench with pages of wire run sheets and connector details. Where did that 22 AWG female D sub pin belong? It's almost Monday...Almost...

This is when I'm defenseless as being broke led me to the devil's workshop, forging impenetrable copper arrays for demons in dark places. And also being physically bereft leaves me weaving through dead bunny corpses and seeing how close to that on coming car I can get, sweat pouring from my gray hair, three day old beard filled with dandruff and pollen like a hoary tree designated for the mill.

But I shut off all communication and meditated on this situation for one day, sweating through withdrawals like Miles Davis kicking heroin. My soul has gone into hibernation.

The ignorant will say I should find another line of work. My answer is that this line of work is sucking the life blood from all that is sacred. Knowing it, and understanding it may be the only way to stop it. See, it will kill us all whether I work there or not. But I can't turn my head away and pretend being a watch repairman is going to stop this assault on the earth's heavy metals. Neither can you.

Yes, dwelling in the belly of the beast is a dangerous pastime. It has costs but the payoff will hopefully be a better understanding of the world we live in, the insane industry that man abides by. Thoreau was a simple man and that left his world view simple, limited, undeveloped. He spoke without a businessman's experiences. He trusted his instincts. But that's not how the world works. Most people obey the media and the media has replaced instincts with filth. I remember 1987 bonfire beer parties and feeling that we acted like this not from choice but because we saw it in Animal House. The drunk guys were the heroes...thus...let's drink. Our cultural habits were adopted from screenwriter fathers. I don't believe this is an accident. It's too diabolical...too perfectly designed to keep the common man obsessed with beer and sports while the Pharaohs plunder the earth.

How will it end?

First, I will take my head out of the toilet.
Second, I resolve to complete my treatise on the poisonous cultural forces at work.

I can not do this alone. The war has begun and I'm telling you the enemy is working day and night to destroy us. He lurks among you. He must be challenged or we are all facing a never ending work day that divides and conquers us, leaving our souls to be ravaged by demons.

OK, that sounded a little insane, but seriously, what is it going to take? Just tell me. Let's make a plan.
I bring this up because I'm on the brink of great changes. Labrador, the fourth corner, beckons. Kelly Anne requested something optimistic but this is all I could come up with. It's sort of optimistic.