Tuesday, November 27, 2007

also and

I was thinking of changing my name to Tom T. Tucker as my own personal homage to sixties country and western singer Tom T. Hall and eighties country and western singer Mr. T and the maverick automaker from the thirties called Mr Tucker and the letter T and consonants and alliteration.

Yup, I may do that. Just waiting on that government arts grant I applied for. Once that million bucks shows up baby I’m straight down to the Name Office to fill in the forms and wait 6-8 weeks.

Communism capital idea; earns top Marx

Thought I was gone, didn’t you. Yeah well I’m busy, so I’ll write when I feel like it. Don’t give me that look. That one. Yes, you are.

I just realized during my 5:45 evening shower that I, myself, am, in fact, enamoured of comas, and, also, a Capital Communist.

That’s right, me. You see Capitalism is all about making money through competetative, non-regulated business, no? Some fair trading guidelines (like no rat poison in the milk powder) but otherwise let the market sort itself out, the strong will survive and the weak will become our slaves, serving us food portions from little windows as we ride in our shiny auto-cars.

And how do you do business? Well you sell a good or service for more than it cost you to produce, or better yet for as much as people are willing to pay. Also correct?

And what have I got to sell, other than vital organs, most of which I am using? My time. Whether that time is spent sweeping a floor or running a bank, I sell my time for an agreed upon rate, or better yet for as much as I can get. The better my skills the more value for money the employer gets, the higher my pay.

Ahh, Unions, you moan. No, dickhead, not unions which are either quasi-political interests or just plain crooked. Actually one leads to the other. Each of us is a free agent to sell our time for whatever we can get. Or not at all, we can spend that time growing our own food and living wild in the forest (illegal in Nevada). I suppose now and then you have to let the Scientists in for a study of your culture, to see your reaction to a photograph of yourself, that sort of thing, but all in all it should be your choice. Don’t grow food well, you starve. Don’t have a skill to sell, you end up on Jerry Springer which isn’t even on anymore.

That’s sad.

But don’t be sad because Capital Communism is here to stay. I invented it and it’s good. You get an extra long weekend in February.

Also there’s the part where you send me money. The more you send the sooner I’ll be out of job competition with you and safely tucked away on some private island. And that’s good for everybody, don’t you think?

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

#501

Just a bit of a joke there for our 500th post, Baboon X-2 didn’t actually assume command in a simian take over. Actually I haven’t seen X-2 for quite a while, said he was going out for smokes. June I think it was.

Ahhh 500. What can you say about 500 posts?

Fuck all. Shit continues. Babies are born, old people die, the price of electronic goods is inversely correlated to the price of oil. You can get a fucking 68cm old-style CRT flat screen high definition TV, state of the art 5 years ago, for $89 – or I can fill up my truck for about the same price.

People understand less of their surroundings now than they did in medieval times. Better alchemy through plastics. The average city would self destruct without electricity for any length of time. The population of NYC wandering the countryside trying to catch rabbits by hailing them. The rabbits not stopping, not in this neighbourhood. Sooner we get started on Mars the better. Buy us another twenty or thirty thousand years.

And the technological peoples of the Earth did fly away and the Third World was promoted to First World and told to mind the shop. Half of them hacked themselves to death with machetes but once that was done the rest of them got on quite well. Grew tomatoes competitively, that sort of thing. And lo, after 15 thousand years, when things did not work out on Mars and the Technologicals wanted to come back, the Earthlings repelled them with green Roma tomatoes, which are pretty hard and could really hurt if hit in the eye, and the Technologicals had no defence because the Earthlings had thrown sand in their face first.

Moral: knowing how to operate a latte machine will not protect you from tomato attack.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

#500

GAAAAK! Is baboon type-type now bad man Joe is gone he bad bad man and make us wear the helmets GAAAAAK! I say again. Now we is do the blogs and the bad bad man Joe he can be in the helmets. And the stockings. We don’t like them stretchy things. Bad bad man Joe gonna have them too and the baboons is do the blog-blog, gaak.

Todays in the baboons blog we is tell about the bad bad man Joe and he’s got the bad bad laboratory with the helmets and the pain stick and not much good to read. All is old national geographic which hardly gots any baboon news at all, just the baby seal’s news and the humpback whale’s news and sometimes stupid lemurs. Lemurs is stretchy too. Gaak.

Bad bad man Joe is always say he’s gots the baboons army but is just me.
There was X-1 but he’s run off. He’s say he want play pro basketball for USA number one joe (not bad bad man joe, just regular joe like is common in USA). X-1 send the postcard. Is has picture of bikini girls on beach all with no fur or colourful bums, is no wonder theys wear the bikinis to cover boring monotone bums. X-1 say he not to USA yet is have trouble get passport.

Bad bad man Joe is always blog about shit now baboon blog is gonna make some sense we telling you. We is give good help about bum colours and how pick the best nits, yummy ones from the ears. You gonna forget about the bad bad man Joe and listen good the baboon blog ok now? Gak.

Ok first is now you put on the helmets ok?

Friday, November 02, 2007

shit storm

Three storms since we moved here. During the first one the neighbor’s dog turned up scared and shaking. I put it in the garage and the next morning we put up a flyer at the general store. Dog was safely home an hour later, two properties down on the other side of the road.

Second storm was during the day and I came home to find the sliding door open and the neighbour’s dog in P4’s bed. Back to the garage she went, I figured the neighbour would be straight over as soon as he realized she was gone. Not so. Next morning, 6am before work, I loaded up the dog took her down the road and found the gate locked. So I left her there. That afternoon she was back. Next morning I load her up again and take her back, thanks very much and blah blah says the fella. “Funny”, he says, “she did come home yesterday morning, but she ran off again”. I mentioned the bed thing, figured that should do it.

Today we had a storm, rain wasn’t just horizontal it was horizontal and circular. Fire trucks and cops racing around everywhere, trees down, power out, that sort of thing. I got home and, although Mrs Joe swears she locked it, I find the sliding door open precisely one dog-width and after much searching located the timid beast wedged into the ironing board cupboard in the laundry.

And the shit. There was a lot of shit. Runny, putrid scared-dog shit on the beds, on the carpet, down the hall, on the walls and just about every surface in the laundry room. I had a shower, found more shit to clean and had another damn shower.

A little later, when the neighbour, Mrs Neighbour this time, came rolling down the driveway she caught me training my dogs to chase the other dog. It won’t budge for me but it will for the dogs so I figured they might be able to chase it off and it would go home. She would have seen me waving my arms and shouting “Go-on-GIT!” while my dogs danced about barking and her dog cowered against my leg, smearing more shit on me.

“Awfully sorry” she said as she picked up her dog, which was rather glad to see her, “we only just got home and…oh…is that shit?”. I told her I believed it was but before I could say more she did a monologue about perhaps getting rid of it because they have “so many storms, up there on the hill”. I can see their house from here so these many storms must be quite localized, but by then I was tired of the whole thing and just let her be on her way.

Hopefully next time they will lock it indoors. And it shits in their fridge.