Simplicity?

It's awful for me to kick a dead horse but the ghost of Steve Jobs has been on my mind as a biographer is making the publicity circuit espousing the genius of Jobs. It's a representation of how far we have withdrawn into confusion and Orwellian doublespeak for someone to look at an Apple computer and think "Simple". I want to punch them in the face and say, "Love" and defend myself by saying that punching someone in the face is basically a variation of hugging them. Ok. OK. I'm the asshole.

That's Entertainment

The Yamaha Baby Grand is so ridiculously nice to play that I wanted to record this song on it for future reference.

Jarritos Buckle #2

!Que Buenos Son!

The first buckle attempt resulted in evidence that my brain is decaying invisibly as I arranged the bottle caps upside down when worn how I usually wear a belt. I tried to put the belt on backwards and while that fixed the orientation of the caps I still felt like an idiot. So, I had to wait 4 months until I had a moment of peace to really apply myself to my chosen calling. This was an improvement but I can't pretend it looks pretty. Try to make something out of bottle caps and you'll know quickly what your standards are. For the record, I drank dozens of Jarritos soda to make this buckle.

Resolutions

The arthritis in my neck keeps my head bowed in reverence for the demise of humanity. But it's not on purpose. I spent too much time looking at my past below my feet and my neck got stuck in that position. January 1st is a time to look forward because regardless of whatever Irish or Chinese railroad crew was slaughtered because the contractor didn't want to pay them, time plods on and the living can either gripe about past injustices or move on.

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.