Saturday, June 25, 2016

Read this if you wanna. Who cares.

This is what I've been hearing lately, from some people...

So, supposedly there's this shitwhit who is trying to make it seem like they are me for whatever reason. Who cares. And they're duplicating my Facebook page with my profile pic and friends list, and sending out friend requests to my already friends and in my name and without my permission, like as if I was making a brand new Facebook page just for the hell of it. Do I have that right? I don't get it. 

So in effect (theoretically), there's this doppelganger of me who is making a brand new Facebook page for itself, but with my name on it instead of his/hers/its, so that it seems like one person (me) has two Facebook accounts.

Who else knows about this? Do I have that right so far? And then whoever it is, is sending out brand new friend requests to all of my old friends who are already friends with me on my regular Facebook page, so that they will be friends on this new doppelganger page, as if it was me making a new page, and just sending out new friend requests all over again to all of my already friends. Like... and I hate to say it... but, like a LIE, in essence!

Why the hell would anyone do that? More to the point, why would anyone believe that I would make a brand new Facebook page and send out all new Facebook friend requests, whenever I already have a perfectly functional Facebook page which has been going on for the past uh... since 2007 or something? Years! That's a long time! Why would I make a brand new Facebook page right now? That would be like suiciding nine years worth of purposefully recorded memories! If I ever decided to do that, you sure as hell wouldn't read about it on Facebook!

So, why would anyone believe that 'new Facebook page' line of bullcrap? That's stupid! That's the question that anyone with an IQ above 103 should ask first, if they actually did get some kind of doppelganger friend request from me. I hope that's the question they would ask first, anyway. Depends on their IQ, I guess, or on how stupid they are... wait. Doesn't that mean the same thing as it depends on their IQ?

I guess it depends on their IQ, or it depends on their IQ. Or on how smart I am or how stupid they are or how stupid I am, or vice versa . One of those. It depends on one or two of those.

Whatev. It doesn't really matter to me anyway. Who cares? I wish I could be the doppelganger of a doppelganger's doppelganger.

No I don't. That was a lie. I just lied a big fat lie on purpose! I don't normally lie so blatantly, but I guess I did just then, huh? Huh? What did I just type? Was that my doppelganger lying? Doppelgangers are supposed to be copies, so why would a doppelganger lie when the original wouldn't? Then it wouldn't be a copy. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the definition of a copy? And wouldn't that give the copy away, anyway, if it was distinguishable from the original? Why am I the only one who thinks about this kind of obvious shit? Does the entire world have Down syndrome?


Now to the nitty-gritty Chuck Wagon chase. If somebody is actually doppelgangbanging my account, then this little tidbit of a communique is especially for you:

I TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU to try to imitate me accurately and make my FB friends believe that you are me. If you are actually able to do that successfully, then congrats! You win my life. Have fun with it, you poor, poor naive foolish shitwhit.



Just kidding. I made all of that up. Every bit of it is a lovingly crafted, meticulous chunk of bullshit!


Or am I?

Friday, June 24, 2016

Fiddleback sneak attack


I was definitely bitten by a creepy crawly night before last. At first I thought it was a skeeter. A damn big skeeter too, almost a centimeter wide. I felt a little nip that didn't hurt, and I caught a glimpse of it just as my hand was brushing the thing away. That was automatic, by the way. I didn't tell my hand to do that.

It didn't hurt, but dayum, it sure started to itch about ten minutes later, so I gave it a good skritchin'. The thing was, it was about 2:00 am and I was dismantling this old wooden pallet for to saw and shape and nail the boards of it into a jig for bracing an aluminum tube for bending, so as to not kink the aluminum.

Now though, I ain't so sure that was a skeeter what bit me, because skeeters don't do that, you know? They don't launch sneak attacks out of rotted up boards. And I ain't never seen a skeeter that was almost a half inch big, anyway. Also, it didn't just leave a skeeter bump, it left a WELT.

I never got a good look at the welt because it was dark, and also because I scratched the top half of it clean off at some point soon after I started skritchin' it, and after that it was just a bloody hole. So, my theory is that it was a fiddleback spider. They're painless bites, they itch, and they leave great big welts. I looked it up.

Also, apparently only about a third of fiddleback bites result in cell death, and since right now the place where I got bit is a scabbed over lump on my arm, I figure that spider venom must have just up and surrendered when the T-cells got there.

Brown recluse. I grew up in the boondocks, calling 'em fiddlebacks. That's what grandma called a brown recluse. A fiddleback spider.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

A siolence of violence.

I'm walking along, minding my own beeswax, when...

Lo! Behold... Hark, forest sounds. Animal noises!

There's a party in the works, a few houses down and on the other side of the road.

I'm not interested in going to the party, I'm just interested in being near it as I wander by. Maybe I'll hear something interesting, or funny, or even strange!

I propel myself across the road and toward the animal noises. As I approach the fence, I'm able to discern a frazzled up tangle of discombobulated quasi-speek. At my closest approach, which is about 18 inches away from the party fence (I was only privy to the forest sounds and animal noises, as the fence prevented me from actually seeing anything), a siolence of violence suddenly erupted quietly from the party proper - up over and yonder - and dragged on for an interminable five or so seconds, followed by:

"This is the shittiest goddam buzz I've never had! What the FUCK, man?"

At which point a flurry of voices went bouncing around on the other side of that fence like somebody had just let the dogs out in there. So, I scurried away, fah fah away!

The End.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

A dream - goodbye music

I was taking Leah home. We were on a train, moving through a forest, at night. She was curled up asleep on the seat across the aisle, and I had a wide bench seat all to myself. Among her things were a few music magazines, which she'd been reading before she went to sleep. I picked one up and began thumbing through it.

There was a long article about Debussy, with accompanying orchestral sheet music for Reverie. I happened upon the flute part, and as I followed it along, I could hear it as if it were really being played, and tears fell from my eyes onto the pages. 

Then Leah was there next to me, and she put her head in my lap. She closed her eyes and was about to doze off again, and she murmured, "What are you doing, looking through those old magazines? They're so old..."

I pulled her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, and one of my tears fell onto her temple. I kissed it away, and right before Leah went back to sleep, she whispered, "What is it that makes you so uncomfortable?"