They’re watching my house and they’re tapping my telephone
I don’t trust nobody, but I’m much too scared to be on my own
And the income tax collector’s got his beady eye on me.
No, there ain’t no cure for acute schizophrenia disease
Dia worked remote today, so I got to take the truck to work. And you know what that means– woo-hoo! 97.1 FM here I come!
I should get 97.1 programmed in the radio since Dia always listens to NPR, but I can get it handily enough. The joy that is Jamie Allman ranting kicks in before I pull out of the alley.
The effect of listening to members of the radical right is interesting. It’s like undergoing a cerebral abortion, where a huge vacuum tube is shoved up my ass and turned on Very Hi setting to suck my brains out. The louder and faster Allman rants, the lower I feel my IQ drop. My built-in safeguards are that if I suddenly feel like buying a Chrysler product or turning my hat backwards, I turn the radio off.
It’s been about two weeks since Allman found out what the term teabagger refers to, and he was still ranting about it. It didn’t help that today was election day, but in between his assurances that the anti-Christ that is Obama would be flogged into the ocean by the electorate he decried the use of teabaggers as a reference to teabaggers. The general jist of his diatribe was that there was no room for name calling or insults in discussion of the issues of the day.
About a minute later, he was talking about the “stinking, dirty hippies” who protested Gulf War Redux, then a little later went on about “liberal moonbats.” About that time I was thinking that maybe a 3/4 ton Dodge Ram with a hemi would look mighty good sitting on the parking pad at home, and I managed to turn the radio off.
The best description I’ve heard of what it’s like to engage in any dialogue with members of the radical right, neo-conservatives or Moral Majority types is that it’s like being stuck in the middle of an insane asylum where all the inmates line up and take turns talking to you.
***** ********** ********** ********** ********** *****
Tick… tick… tick… tick… tick…
Today I got the appointments set up for my blood donations. I have to get up three pints for the surgery, and the donations have to be done within 42 days, at least a week apart, but within four days of surgery.
That’s too much like those damned word problems in math, which is probably why I put off making the appointments for so long. If someone is doing an autologous donation on a train moving east at 50 mph, and a drunk Red Cross volunteer is jamming an IV needle into the vein of another donor on a train that leaves a station 125 miles away and travels west at an average speed of 63 mph, how long would it take for a brain-damaged monkey with a wooden leg to kick the seeds out of a banana?
Yep, too much like word problems, so I set them up today, and only fucked up one date that I have to re-schedule.
Got my hooded bath robe and a pair of slippers ordered from LL Bean. Got in a copy of HTML, XHTML and CSS in and ordered a copy of HTML 4 In a Week so I’d have something to putz with once I can get out of bed after the surgery. Amanda is supposed to work with my landlord set my domain name up on his server, so I should be able to tinker with something to avoid going mad from boredom. Anna said she’d set me up with copies of Battlestar Galactica episodes that I don’t have so I can get my Tricia Helfer fix and Dia can drool over Katee Sackhoff.
I have Pynchon’s V and Mason & Dixon, and if things get seriously twisted I still have Ulysses and a Koran.
Also got my durable power of attorney finished along with my durable power of attorney for health directives. Even though those are something everyone should have– and I’ve been putting off getting those done for a couple years– whipping those together was more of a preemptive measure. There is an extremely slight chance that things could get weird during the surgery, but I want to be prepared to spare Dia any unnecessary expenses or grief.
Amanda is Dia’s alternate as my agent, and she is legally empowered to step in and act like a total cunt in the event Dia couldn’t handle things. She fully concurs with my decisions, and she will enforce them to an absofuckinglute T before you can say “but the Church teaches…”
She’s a damned good daughter.
You have been adequately warned.
Tags: "Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues", 97.1 FM, Allman in the Morning, autologous donation word problems, Battlestar Galactica, cornholing Dana Loesch, Fox Radio Network, Hunter S. Thompson, Jamie Allman, teabagging, The Kinks, Thomas Pynchon
November 4, 2009 at 4:14 am |
It pays to have righteous bitches in your corner. Met up with a “Continental Congress” registrar this evening. Scary stuff.
November 7, 2009 at 10:37 am |
Just ran across you today – I appreciate the link to my ranting (and god-awful photos.)
Feel free to email me during your recovery when BSG losing its’ appeal, and markup languages make you want to tear your eyes out.
-tyler