Disclaimer

Disclaimer: Under the International Blog and Electronic Ramble Act of 1938, Article 5 - section 2 'No wireless program or blog may contain a cartoon, the title and/or caption of which contravenes Schedule 2 – namely does discriminate by sex, race, religion, or the wearing of Gangsta-style clothing in this day and age.’

SkookumJoe herby retracts the title of the cartoon posted below, and replaces it with the following:

Pusher Man or Woman.

SkookumJoe acknowledges a woman’s equal right to be a degenerate heroin pusher and apologizes for any offence, real or imagined.

Pusher Man

Pusher Man

This Just In...

A man entered a Sydney police station last night claiming he feared for his family's safety. He had a large gambling debt and some bad dudes were after him.

I guess he got the shits after waiting 3 hours for help, cause he jumped over the counter, grabbed the female constable's Glock 9 from her gunbelt - which was not at the time attached to her person (oh-oh) ...and shot her in the chest. yikes.

The constable is recovering. The man sold the gun before he was caught, but offered to help get it back if he was given bail. Bail was denied.

In sports, the only member of the Australian ski team NOT to blow-out a knee at some point during the recent games, was in fact Canadian.

Black Farm

On a black farm
Lay three stones bare
Until I came and
took
them
away
from there.

I stole them away while
The black farmer slept
I paused at the gate
where
his
black
wife wept.

She cried her pain
To the noble moon

So I threw one of the stones at her to shut her up.

Skoda (pt.3)

The SkodaWorks still produces top rally cars.

...If I came anymore to my left, I’d rip off the side mirror on the truck’s wheel-well. Two options…rip off the mirror by hand and continue trying to sneak past, or rev it right up, dump the clutch and power out, hoping the tire wedged against the fence would give way, hoping for the best. Either way this was taking too long… I wound the little four cylinder up to about 7000 RPM. The hole in the muffler became quite apparent.

A large French Canadian wearing jeans and nothing else stumbled groggily into the moonlight. Waxy-white belly, shock of black beard and wild hair. It was like Black Jacque Shellac after a bad marriage and a lifetime of scotch. He planted himself, legs spread, in my path and began cursing me in French. I let the engine wind down and began to laugh. What else could I do? He wedged himself in between the truck and my car trying to get to me, I revved the engine a bit and he jumped back. I was only joking but he couldn’t see it. I laughed and shut the engine off. He scrambled back over my hood, reached in and grabbed the keys.

“Son-of-bitch, I knew you gonna try dat! Now you get outta dere.”

I was still laughing when I pointed out the reason he caught me was because I was wedged in, and couldn’t get out. He still didn’t see anything funny about it. The only thing he could do was give me back the keys so I could back the Skoda up until my door was clear.

He gave back the keys and said “Don’t you try and go out da front.” I explained that if I could ‘go out da front’ we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The dog continued to bark. I backed the car away from the truck, back across the impound yard and parked it neatly where it had been. I detached the car key from the rest and tossed it to him as I walked past, and out onto the street. Did you know bastard in French is the same in English?

I followed the sound of the barking dog until I found a motel, woke the owner at 4am and got a room. After several phone calls, a bit of paperwork, and a money transfer, I finally secured the release of the Skoda about 12 hours later. It was by then too late to go home, so I went back to Toffino after all…

One Good Turn

One Good Turn
(or: Randy tries positive re-enforcement)

Skoda (pt.2)

...I'd been a bit worried about the big 5-ton wrecker's mirror, which stuck out about 2 feet from the side of the cab. But as I'd hoped, the Skoda passed underneath easily.

The Tow Truck Owner had parked his livelihood in the laneway beside his house, between the house itself and a high board fence which surrounded the property. Tall summer grass grew against the fence. The truck was backed-in; facing the street, so the narrowest point was between the truck’s front wheel-well and the fence. What it all meant was I wouldn’t know if the Skoda was going to fit for sure until I was fully alongside the truck and committed. Once I got past the front end of the truck, I would need to jog left to get out the gate and onto the street

I never let the Skoda above an idle, ½ slipping the clutch in second gear, trying to coax it alongside the truck as quietly as possible. I’d decided no way was I going to damage the truck, or there would certainly be cops involved. Escaping from an impound yard is questionable legally, but damage to the 5 Ton would be tangible and damming evidence. The kind cops like best, makes their job easy.

The front end of the Skoda cleared the narrow point and was past the front end of the truck. My driver’s side mirror (folded in) was now inside the truck’s front wheel-well. The grass against the fence rustled and we came to a stop. In the dark I could just make out an old tire leaning against the fence, hidden in the grass. My right passenger door was wedged against the tire. Shit.

Somewhere, a dog barked...

Straight From People's Car Factory 12

The car in this little story was a 1983 Skoda 120 Garde. That's a 1.2 litre 4 cylinder water cooled rear engine, rear-wheel-drive, four-speed. They are made in Czechoslovakia. A bit like a cross between a Volvo 240 and a Toyota Turcell. It was safety-orange with black rally stripes and constantly overheating due to a poorly designed cooling system. Czechoslovakia was still communist back then and the Owner's Manual came with detail drawings for machining your own spare parts. Once, the carburetor caught fire and I shot a fire-extinguisher straight down it's throat. Started right up again. It was a finicky machine and I got it for free from a woman who was so frustrated with it, she said I could have it if I could drive it away. (It had a dead battery, which I eventually found mounted under the back seat.) Shortly after I got it, it lost first gear. Just wasn't there anymore...vroom-vroom, no-go...but I drove it for over a year.

Finally I abandoned it under the Alex Fraser Bridge in Delta, Vancouver. Got me a full-size, jacked-up Chevy 4x4...but that's another story altogether.

Skoda

…I had a tape measure in the car so I went down and measured the gap. About 62”, that’s a little over 5 feet. I walked back up to the car, folded in the side mirrors and measured…60 inches. One inch either side. There was a good chance I was gonna lose a mirror, but hey if it meant freedom…

The car had been idling back there for about an hour by now and I figured the Tow Truck Owner had gone back to bed. I hoped he was used to the sound of the car running by now - out in the impound lot, behind his dingy bungalow. He’d said I could sleep in the car and I’d asked him to leave the keys, so I could run the heater. He left the keys, but parked the big 5 ton wrecker in the lane beside the house, blocking the only exit. It was about 3:30am by the time I eased the little Skoda into second (it mysteriously lost first gear about a year earlier) and let it putter slowly across the yard toward the 5 ton.

The idea was to sneak past on the right hand side, get the hell out of town and duck up the first bush road I could find to hide out until morning - when I could buy enough fuel to get home.

I figured if the Tow Truck Driver woke up and called the cops, they’d naturally think I’d be heading straight down the only road out. By the time I got fuel and really headed out they may have given up looking, or figured I’d gone back to Toffino and be looking up there. Didn’t matter because I had no fuel, so that was that. I never got a chance to find out...

Did You Know?

I got me a big city brother, writes down stories for the TV. One time he went to Cyprus, that's near Europe. He sent me one of them e-mail pictures. Them folk's houses is all the same colour, you know.

Change

So did you think about it? Never mind I did. Sun Tzu got it wrong, we need change but we should actively try to bring it about, not wait for it. Waiting gets you nothing. Go hunt.


mighty fine echo in here

you need teeth right?

Look its been a hell of a day (see photo below), topped off by a trip to the dentist who cheerily informed me I need $1500 of work done, then just as cheerily charged me $119 for saying it. But hey, you need teeth right? Maybe I can get by with every second one. Would make my head slightly lighter, but I'll compensate.

Sun Tzu said: For the weak to defeat the strong, it is logically necessary to await change

Think about that and we'll pick it up tomorrow.

Lessons in Psychological Sub-Management Techniques

A guy at work looks like Donald Pleasence. Add thicker glasses and a white beard and that's him. Same beady bewildered eyes, ice blue and sort of blind looking. (more sight puns). When he takes his glasses off, his eyes are pale blue discs with pin-points of black. It is through these tiny distorted apertures that he is forced to see his world – like looking through a pair of magnified drinking straws.

This man spends 12 hours per day looking for things. Lost paperwork, lost messages, lost hardware. He once lost an installer; that is couldn’t remember what job he had sent him to. When he tried to phone the installer, the other phone in his pocket began to ring because he had forgotten to give it to the installer. He is a master at creating highly complex, yet arbitrary, systems. His hobby is designing check-lists to prevent losing things. These lists require other lists to explain the arbitrary symbols required to fill in the former. Racks, bins, and cubbyholes are also popular with him. He has been known to interrupt a large production run to have parts made for some rack or other. This requires two re-tools, halts production for several hours, and the parts end up sitting on a trolley for several months till someone gets time to build them. And by then he’s forgotten about it anyway. He is not good with computers - we are fully networked, but we generate paper for him.

Now lets add a healthy dose of paranoia to the mix. Somewhere, sometime, somebody shat on him bad. Because now he truly believes every person he knows is trying to screw him. He’d find a conspiracy in a three-legged chair.

Do not smile when you speak to him, he will assume you are laughing at him. Always look when he is speaking or he will assume you are ignoring and, therefore, laughing at him. Do not laugh at him. Do not make jokes he will not get - he will assume the joke is on him. Do not use metaphors, for they are just tricky ways of laughing at him. If you offer to help he will feel patronized. If you do not offer to help he will feel victimized.

As you can see, I’ve made quite a study of this man. Normally I’d write him off as a curious fellow, but harmless. Unfortunately this man is my boss and it falls to me to appease him. For left on his own, he can cause great damage, turmoil and general malaise throughout factory-land. I’ve seen ten men come and ten men go because of him.

But I’m not complaining. This man is one of the main reasons I am valuable to the company. He’s a Director of the company, and he’s not going anywhere. I work in the background and allow him to take the credit. Things get done. Staff are happy. And those that matter, including owners of other companies, know what I do. His reputation reaches far and wide.

So I do not think of him as an annoyance or burden (though I do get weary, like all parents) and I intend no slander on his character*. There are smarter guys than me working there, but nobody else can do what I do. This man is my ticket. You remember those old Vaudeville acts where the guy spun dinner plates on poles, running back and forth to keep them going? That’s what I do...I keep the plates spinning. (it’s just a metaphor, don’t get upset.)

*the lawyer said to say that.

Domesticity

Domesticity

I Got A Cheatin' Heart

A while ago I almost chucked it in down at the Factory. I knew the owner of a competing business and I courted him shamelessly. I even had him over to La Cassa Skooka one Saturday afternoon. We got on well, agreed on many things…and best of all, his company has MONEY. Lots of it. He was smooth too, casually offering me pay packages and titles until my head swam. “Sure baby, anything for you…you're special”

I finally felt *sniff* validation, you know. So I was all set to run away with him to a beautiful big Factory in another land. But when I tried to leave, suddenly my current employer had time for my ideas…

”Oh, baby don’t go…I know I haven’t said I love you lately, but I do baby, I really really do.” And they upped my yearly income by 50%. So I decided to stick it out and give it one more try, for the sake of the kids.

Today we all went to a fun course about efficiency where we thought up better ways to make Lego airplanes and ship them to imaginary customers. I was the first from my company to arrive and guess who I bumped into…

Me “Hey! Hi…..I’ve been meaning to call. Just to say hi.”
Him “Hey gooood to seeeee you, how have you beeeeen?”

And we made small talk until we were interrupted. But we both knew there was still that spark there. During the course of the day we worked together at one point and had a laugh or two, just like old times *sniff*.

And then at the end of the day, after my colleagues had left and I was waiting out front for my lift, we ran into each other again….

“Good to see you again”, he said as we shook hands. And he held my gaze until all I could sputter was “You too. We really should have a chat sometime”
“You call me anytime.” he said, and I felt all oogy inside.

Well, I got his card and email address in my wallet now, like a dirty secret. And I’m having bad thoughts, naughty naughty wicked thoughts. He has a PROFITABLE company, where they listen to the customers and listen to the employees and everybody does Ti-Chi at lunch time (well, they might). I even heard they give people raises for doing a good job! Oh yeah, and THAT company is not run by insane people. At my current joint I can’t get new saw blades, but they bought a $500 office chair for the SPARE computer, the one nobody actually uses.

It’s a nice business card…not too glossy or tacky. I’ll just look at it for a while then put it away…I won’t memorize the email or phone number…ohhhh you can just smell the money-smell on it….ahhhh

I think I’d like to be alone now…

McGhanistan

(yesterday’s post was deleted. Mainly because it sucked. Did you really want to hear about my cat? Didn’t think so.)

I don’t like Americans. That should be easy to say, there are just so many reasons. But the thing is, most Americans mean well, and I have a hard time holding it against them.

Seems some time back, a navy SEAL on a mission in the Afghan mountains got himself in a spot of bother and was given aid by a local shepherd. This is the first I’ve heard of it, and I don’t have many details, but the point is the navy man was helped by the shepherd. Australian Time published two letters from readers with their praise of the shepherd.

The first letter was pretty straightforward, commenting that it was generally a good thing that had occurred. The second letter was shorter but went a step further:

“It would be a heartwarming gesture if we extended U.S. citizenship to the shepherd and his family for his aid.”, -Brian Gaffney, Glendale, New York. (Time Aug 8, 2005)

This is of course a very thoughtful and kind sentiment on the part of of Mr. Gaffney. That’s the mean-well part.

The very fact people want to reward the shepherd infers that most of his countrymen would not have been so hospitable. Which means this guy probably doesn’t want the neighbors knowing too much about it. If the US offered citizenship the jig would be up and the poor guy would then be forced to take the offer - or face god knows what at home - whether he wanted to or not. Ironically, I think if the US offered money, the Afghans would not find this too insulting. This is not to say all they want from the US is money, but money as a reward is non-political. Hard cash in return for a service is logical and almost expected. But to offer citizenship immediately brands the shepherd in the eyes of his peers as a collaborator. Why would you offer citizenship to a man unless he was "your type of guy"? Then they start wondering how long, exactly, he has been “helping” Americans and suddenly he’s in a world of shit.

Why assume the shepherd even wants US citizenship? Presumably his people have lived there forever – since long before there ever was a United States. What makes anyone think he’d be so keen to up and fly half-way around the world to join a culture completely alien to him? When I lived in Canada, we went to the states for gas and cheap cheese and scooted back across just as soon as we'd reached the duty-free quota.

Why do Americans seem to believe the entire rest of the world is just dying to get in? This is arrogant, however well meaning. And it pisses people off by suggesting their own culture is inferior and lacking.

Americans are immensely proud of their country, don’t they think the shepherd is just as proud of his? Did Americans all run off to France when the civil war hit? They stayed and sorted it out for love of country. Why would they think anyone else would do anything different?

Gilbert and Sullivan's Love Child Speaks Out

(*to the tune of that song from that show by those guys)

I am the very model
Of a modern middle manager
That’s because they think that I
Cannot do them any damage there

Got a phone a desk
And a leather office chair
Its ok if I lose my keys
'Cause in my desk I have a spare.

I can fax and photocopy,
And then email you all a joke
And while that’s all going through
I’ll nip outside to have a smoke

The company can’t seem to see,
In fact the firm is going broke
'Cause nobody cares to listen to
That little middle bloke.

They Don't Say That In Alabama

Article in Australian Time magazine on Bode Miller, the US ski team's brightest star. He dared to admit he has raced while hung-over. Shocking isn't it? Shocking anybody cares.

I'm not sure how I ended up with a subscription to Time, which is of course an American magazine reporting on American things - "Bush Eavesdrops Self: Listens to Tapes for Reassurance". All I know is my daughter got a new MP3 player about the time Time (ahem) started appearing in the mailbox, and the angry phone calls wanting $60 began. Like it or not I got 104 issues coming. The Australian version is pretty much a reprint of the US version except they change things into metric for you....Bode can ski 80mph OR 130km/h. Its not as bad as Australian Reader's Digest, which for some reason Mrs. Joe likes to bring home from flea-markets by the box. Australian Reader's Digest actually changes people's quoted words...so you have some slob from Alabama quoted as saying:

"We were sitting on the bonnet of a car, watching the people queue on the footpath in front of the cinema"

I've been to Alabama...they don't talk that way. In fact refering to the hood of a car as a 'bonnet' can get you strung up in many counties.

I always thought quotation marks denoted someone's exact, actual words. If they'll change that, how can you trust anything they report.

Yes. I realize what I just said. Reader's Digest is not to be trusted. Sorry if you are disillusioned. Did you know most of the words in the Increase Your Wordpower section are made up?

Good luck to Bode Miller, drink lots of water.

Rehab

Rehab

Magpies in the Corn

From inside
The man whistled
Said getthebird getthebird.
The dogs stared at him
Quite unsure
Puzzled half grins
Searching eyes

Magpies in the corn

He did it again
Then turned upon himself
Disgusted and disapeared

the fuck was that? said dog
otherdog said fuck if i know
doesn't like birds.
and what are birds
I dunno.

I do hate those flying cats though