Tune Up

This was some overdue maintenance. changing and timing the dizzy cap, changing plugs, changing points and condenser, new air filter after being told it was an order-only part and a valuecraft item was sitting ten feet away. I inventoried my parts department and found 16 new spark plugs and 8 used spark plugs in addition to the 8 already installed. I had so many parts I could build a new van, as long as the gas didn't have rocks or rubber in it. Now the 302 sounds like it has all 220 Horses back in the race. I don't like working on cars for money but there's definitely a feeling of fulfillment when I get El Conquistador sounding hungry for the road. That vacuum sound is what you hear when you take the air filter off, strong vacuum means the rings are sealing and drawing air.

Corrido De Toros

"I had read many books in which, when the author tried to convey it, he only produced a blur, and I decided that this was because either the author had never seen it clearly or at the moment of it, he had physically or mentally shut his eyes, as one might do if he saw a child that he could not possibly reach or aid, about to be struck by a train." E. Hemingway - Death in The Afternoon 1932

I have big shoes to fill if I want to tackle the subject of bullfighting. Hemingway polished his craft on this subject (the "it" in the statement above). I feel the same way about homelessness and poverty and romantic self-destruction and also jazz music. I feel most authors or musicians turn away before the dirty parts and that I, Oggy, did not turn away in time, or felt it more deeply than others. I'm not turned on by poverty or self-destruction but in a sense I am addicted to self-destructive romanticizing, ie: the editing of reality to fit a romantic notion. I am, in psychological parlance, most engaged when romanticizing or verbalizing reality, which I can often do at the same time. The second most actualization I experience is when I play solo guitar at 3am and imagine an audience of ghosts enjoying my work. But writing is actually a slight of hand where I tell you something I already know and pretend I only learned about it through the process of writing. At best, I don't pretend and actually do learn something at the same moment you do. That's magical, and, like jazz improvisation, is not rehearsed and the audience and artist share an experience. All live action performance/entertainment is like this and Hemingway's book is a good example of a stream of consciousness, plainly honest investigation of a subject with little or no censorship. Censorship irks me although I can appreciate that I have become intolerable to some so they would wish me to limit myself in one form or another to better accommodate their conventionality. Yes, I might try to use a bathroom instead of pissing and shitting in the street, but otherwise, this self-domestication isn't going to happen for any one's benefit. Maybe this is self defeating but there's a larger issue of being true to my nature. Oh, I fantasize that I will compromise for romantic reasons but that's actually the opposite of what really happens, which is compromise for economic or political reasons and romance gets tossed out with the rotting banana peels. But that's another story.

Why Jesus Made Me Sell My Van

I promised an essay explaining why I no longer officially own the van and now the time has come. This story is so epic, involves something like 4 countries, many corrupt officials, bribery, thievery, forgery, lies, deception, tears, blood, money, property. Sex is remotely involved by not in a way that would make sense to go into detail about. I'm not like some Hollywood fucking screenwriter who reads a scene about a kid visiting his mother at a hospital, where she is a nurse, and thinks, "Hey, why don't we make the mother a stripper instead?" And some fat fucking producer with a hemorrhoid inflammation pillow in his Mercedes Benz nods and says, "Yes! A stripper!" So, I'm not going to give you sex.

Transgender For A Day

I prefer to use the internet only for downloading legal cheerleader porn but today I was drawn to North Carolina's bizarre HB2, which sounds like a flu virus, but is actually a bill regarding the transgender topic. Some political cunt also slipped in a purely Communist artifice that stifles free market capitalism by forcing businesses to abide by self-limiting government inventions regarding worker's compensation, but that's another topic. HB2 basically says that if you have to shit or piss in a North Carolina public bathroom, a state named after a long dead King of England, then you must do so in the bathroom designated for your sex that is officially determined at birth by a visual inspection done by an Obstetrician. Why this random doctor decides your fate for life in the realm of public bathroom use is not a topic discussed in great detail by HB2, but it's certainly at the source of the controversy. 

It's a bullshit, petty, infantile law by the same dickwads who talk about controlling prescription drug use with "blah blah blah" public awareness and policing morphine and oxycodone junkies and "bullshit bullshit" exercising their flabby jowls to prance before the public and get some more filthy feathers in their diseased political cap. These are gross, profit politicians, bitter, resentful, arrogant, too much time on their hands, feeding overused tropes and dusty speeches to the dumb masses, like public bathroom traffic is real high on the list of priorities of the average person in N.C. What a load of shit. The fucking worthless state reps disregard 200 years of science about tobacco and protect Big Tobacco companies and promote cigarettes like the year is 1890. Pathetic, backwards, flim-flam fuckwads waving patriotic flags over their pasty faces. It's another political chew toy to justify public service junkies, but it has me annoyed in many ways that I want to list here.

First of all, isn't the fact people using bathrooms, regardless of their sexual orientation/identity, can't HIT THE FUCKING TOILET when they shit a little more important? I mean, if you are going to write a law that says a person with a cock must piss in the urinal then can you not also write a law that says a person must piss ONLY in the urinal, and not on the floor or the wall? Isn't that more to the point of the public bathroom?

I used a bathroom the other day in Mexico and I have been eating irregularly a mix of Thai and Chicarron and arrachera (prime rib) tacos. All kinds of shit came out of me to the point that I could not see water. I mean, that toilet wanted to call the U.S. Ambassador to Mexico to lodge a formal complaint. But, all the shit was in the toilet. See? I did not shit on the floor or walls or the seat, as I have seen in many bathrooms across the globe. And, frankly, I care much less about the sexual identity of the asshole that missed the toilet completely when they had diarrhea then the fact they missed the toilet completely. Well, the toilet I shit into did not work, which is another topic of Mexican plumbing maintenance, and I tried to fix it on the spot but the shuttle was leaving so I left my awful present there for the next sad asshole to deal with. Once, in Nicaragua, I tormented a public toilet in the only medical office in town...in the town hall, the city administration building...and after 20 minutes of agony and grunting and sweating like I was giving birth to Donald Trump's ego, the toilet did not flush. I tried and tried to get it to flush and that was the only toilet in the building and there were many pregnant women waiting for their appointment as well as tradesmen getting permits to work and other things and I finally fished that shit out of the toilet, with my bare hands, and threw it into the trash. Judge me as you wish, dear reader, but that was my solution to the problem and thankfully the sink worked.

God help us if we can not resolve our public bathroom problems without the use of legislation. GOD FUCKING HELP US if it has come to that. I love the rhetoric about "little girls" in the bathroom alone with "grown men". Well, first of all, grown men are already sneaking into public bathrooms to spy of women, so that's nothing new. Second of all, if the girl is old enough to go alone into a bathroom then she's probably alone on buses with "grown men" also. Is there some huge difference between a public bus or subway and a public bathroom? You sit down on both of them; they both smell; no one washes their hands after using either; once you are done you leave. No, there's no difference except the political junkies are addicted to perceived conflict so they drum up controversy and ultimately a bill to vote on. Isn't it obvious they are merely pretending to work? It's like mowing a lawn that doesn't need to be mowed. The bill changes nothing but gets people barking and that's where politicians make their money, they instigate barking and then get paid to calm people down. Incredible useless politicians and their pitiful legislation. Let's segregate public buses too because we might have men and women sit next to one another peacefully and that would mean politicians might have nothing to bark about. I mean, speaking practically, anyone sneaking into a woman's bathroom will have to use a toilet in a private stall, since there are no urinals. And any woman using a men's bathroom will use a toilet also unless she can piss horizontally into a urinal. So the only interaction will be at the sink, which I equate with a water fountain. If we really need a federal injunction to tell us who we can drink water near or wash our hands next to then we're doomed.

In pondering this topic I wondered, "How many creepy perverts who cross dress as a ruse to enter an opposite sex bathroom to get their sexual pleasure aroused, and maybe masturbate in an adjacent stall, will be targeted because of this law?" I'm sure these people exist who are not transgendered but actually pretend to be transgendered so well that they are in costume to get into a woman's bathroom to spy on women or maybe simply be surrounded by women who are shitting or pissing nearby for their own amusement. This must be true, and I'd like to talk with some of those people, but I doubt they want to admit to this treachery. I wonder if they get caught they can claim they are transgendered. Surely, the one case of this happening in 300 years is worth writing legislation to protect innocent young girls from! ha! Well, your days are numbered because the transgender folks, who are truly identifying with another sex, ruined it for you. Now all North Carolina public bathroom users will be on the lookout for opposite sex users of their bathroom. Jesus! What a bunch of bullshit. 

I would like to hear one valid reason that a man and a woman who identifies as a man can't shit in adjacent toilets peacefully. If you'd seen some of the men I've shared a bathroom with then you would know anything is possible as long as adult behavior and a measured poker face is maintained. Julie Andrews could walk into my bathroom dressed like The Iron Sheik and I would not blink. Hell, she could use one of those piss funnels for women and stand next to me at the reeking urinal and I would not care. Why? Because I don't care. I'm an adult. I do not linger in public bathrooms and the time period I am in public bathrooms is quickly filed into a dark corner of my memory. Whatever happens there, never happened. A hundred latex-wrapped Queens could molest me in the filthy stall and I would not remember it happened. That's what makes me an adult. I mind my own business in a public bathroom and that business always involves some kind of waste coming out of my body. That's enough business to deal with. I don't care what costumes other people are wearing, if they are drunk, if they want to get laid, if they want to sell drugs. None of that matters once I enter the bathroom. As far as I see it, a transgendered person looking to get laid in a public bathroom is no different than some Carolina tobacco farmer who is paranoid they might touch a transgendered person in a bathroom. They both have their priorities all wrong in the public bathroom department. As far as being "uncomfortable" with a man dressed as a woman washing his hands next to you, I say tough shit. I used to get uncomfortable when kids with a Yankees cap would stand near me in line at the pizza slice kiosk at the Mall...when I was 11 years old! Grow up! Get your business done and remember crossing a street is not the same as pissing at a public urinal: don't look both ways before you go.

I propose we all identify with the opposite sex for a day and visit North Carolina and go to bathroom opposite the sex on our birth certificate. And I also propose we request the Obstetrician leave the sex box blank on the birth certificate, because who the fuck gave them the right to do anything but get the baby out of the womb in one piece? Can they name the baby? No. Can they kiss the baby? No. Can they decide which bathroom the baby will use for life? Yes. Well, leave the sex box blank and let the baby fill that part in when they want. Because, it is a fucking box a person checks on a form that was printed in some sweatshop in Mexico, so it really has no value at all. It's all an illusion and an artifice, propped up with glossy pomp and political framework that is as fragile as a pigeon's leg. You're just a person who appeared because your mom got knocked up. And you gotta use the public shitter because that Hunan Village lunch buffet table was hours old when you got there. It's no big deal. You are no King Charles I and no state is going to get named after you and where you shit and piss is also not a big deal but PLEASE try to shit in the big hole and not get shit everywhere on the seat. And if the toilet works, then FLUSH IT. And if you can get those two things correct then you'll be doing better than most people, even better than Oggy, and that's enough for 2016, which is the Age of Bullshit Legislation. That's my advice, kids. Goodnight.

Death in The Early Evening

This is the bull I named Champion

In Mexico, the Bulls die to applause. I ate a vegan hamburger before going to the bullfight if it makes any of you hippies feel better.