The blog of Luther M. Siler, teacher, author and local curmudgeon
Driving home from taking the boy to school this morning, I caught myself looking at my knuckles (shut up, the car knows where to go) and wondered if I was still going to be occasionally wishing I had Wolverine’s claws when I was 60.
Then I remembered I’m already 40 and still doing it.
Chances are the answer is yes, then.
One of my co-workers found out over the phone that his pregnant daughter’s doctors had failed to detect a fetal heartbeat during a routine examination this morning. The last time he was at work, he got a call that his father had just died. That sort of day.
I’m going to leave this link here. It won’t cheer you up, mind you, but it’s crossed my mind that pissing off our own intelligence services may not have been the shitgibbon’s best possible move, and while I’m not always fond of the proprietor of Gin and Tacos I think he’s in the right here.
More cheerful tomorrow. I’ll do my best, at least.
Today was a Tuesday, in case you were wondering. I don’t know what it is about Tuesdays. But today was definitely a Tuesday. I think I need a T-shirt or something.
At any rate, on the way home from work the following two songs flashed into my head. I still have every syllable of both songs memorized. I probably haven’t listened to the Kool Moe Dee song in the larger part of a decade. It’s really weird how the music that you were listening to when you were in middle school and high school sticks with you forever.
Or maybe it’s not, I dunno. It’s not like I’m not still listening to the same stuff. 🙂 At any rate, enjoy some old-school hiphop while I go to bed early and try to recharge enough to make it through Wednesday.
So I just found out this is going to be my schedule in the latter part of March:
Saturday, March 18: Work from 9-8
Sunday, March 19: Work from 12-6
Monday, March 20: Board plane to Denver– which, to make sure we’re clear, is not where my wife or my son live. Upon leaving plane, attend sales meetings.
Tuesday, March 21-Thursday, March 23: Lots and lots of sales meetings. Probably involving some sort of roleplaying, with my days and evenings full of the sort of alpha males who might attend these sorts of things. I don’t drink and will have nothing in common with any of these people and will probably be having to share a hotel room with someone.
Friday, March 24: Attend morning sales meetings and then fly back home.
Saturday, March 25: Work from 9-8
Sunday, March 26: Work from 12-6. I have been informed that I will receive my “average daily pay” for the days I’m in Denver, and that if I manage to exceed my average sales for an entire week over the 25th and 26th I will receive a bonus of… wait for it… fifty dollars!
Monday, March 27: Work from 9-8
Tuesday, March 28: Work from 9-8
Wednesday, March 29: Work from 9-2:30.
And then come home and die.
I’m going to need someone to badly injure me on the 19th. Anybody wanna get in on that? Is there a line already?
Ah, what the hell, let’s just keep it full-size.
So, last night I took a pain pill before bed because I was jimmylegging like hell (look it up, it’s a thing) and also because my back and knees were bugging me. This morning I woke up still feeling a bit loopy. That’s not entirely uncommon but generally it goes away within an hour or two.
It is now twenty-four hours since I took the pill– one pill! And not even something illegal or even particularly unwise! One damn Norco!– and I’m still having intermittent bursts of dizziness and ooh my head why is the world upside-down going on. Also earlier today I had an oak butterfly leaf dropped directly on my thumb and it is all sorts of unnatural colors and I probably ought not to be typing right now because hurty.
Also I sold a lot of furniture today, or at least I think I did, which is kind of surprising because all I really remember from work is putting my head down on the counter a lot. Apparently that’s good salesmanship for at least some humans. Dunno why.
I’m going to spend the next six hours watching my thumbnail change color. Please do something better with your Saturday night than I’m doing. Assuming it’s Saturday night where you are. I’m not sure anymore.
Lazing about on the couch watching Masterchef Junior. Was just about to ask what y’all were doing with your Sunday night and then remembered it was Friday. Sigh.
I need input: assess the viability of something similar to this image– I’ll let the artist freehand it; I’m not about to just copy a piece of clip art– as a tattoo. Upper arm. Do not respond “I don’t like tattoos;” in that case, I’m not asking you. Note that I have six other tats and most of them are monochromatic so it’ll fit in pretty well.
Note: the title to this post very nearly contained a Certain Word that I genuinely try to avoid using under any circumstances, and no, it isn’t the orange shitgibbon’s actual name. Having thus demonstrated restraint by using “hack” instead, do not expect me to do any further holding back.
Motherfuckers, let me be perfectly clear on something here: the next person to try and pull some sort of mealy-mouthed, fuckwitted “Republicans and Democrats are the same” horseshit where I can see them is going to get my hand rammed up their ass so that I can use them as a human puppet for a while and force them to say things that make sense. Because I dare you– I double dare you– I double dog dare you, motherfucker, to find one fucking nominee by a Democrat to a Cabinet post at any fucking point in my lifetime who was even remotely as fucking unqualified for their jobs as any single one of the shitbirds Lord Dampnut has thrown up. It’s fucking unbelievable; the qualification for any Cabinet post appears to be “does this person completely oppose the mission of the department they’re being nominated to head?”
Find one fucking time– one fucking time in the last forty years— where the Democrats nominated anyone as unqualified as fucking Betsy DeVos. I’m serious. If there is one, and I don’t think there is, I want to know about it. I mean, let’s be real, here: this motherfucker had a chance to nominate Ben Carson to something, right? Ben Carson’s a fucking surgeon, and by all accounts is actually good at that. Like, legitimately. So… maybe Surgeon General? Health and Human Services?
Nah. He’s, like, black n’ shit, so put the motherfucker in charge of HUD. I mean, he’s completely fucking unqualified, but what-fucking-ever. Let’s find someone who doesn’t believe in global warming to head the EPA. In every single fucking instance— other than the fucking military, of course– the person nominated to head the department has been explicitly against what the fuck their department is supposed to be for.
Find me a fucking time where the Democrats named a fucking hippie for SecDef. Go ahead, look. You won’t find one. Because the Democrats, despite their frequent lack of basic fucking competence, actually give a shit about having a fucking functional goddamned government. The Republican plan is to loot the citizenry for every single fucking dime they can and “prove” that government doesn’t work by being utterly fucking incompetent at governing every chance they get. It’s explicit. It’s obvious. It’s been going on for fucking decades.
Fuck this. Fuck them. Fuck everyone who fucking voted for them, too.
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