Month: August 2023

26 August 2023

It’s not my favorite mug shot, but it’s definitely a contender. I think Randy Travis’ and Rosa Parks’ and John McAfee’s all eclipse El Donaldo’s, though he easily stands shoulder to shoulder with Johnny Cash and Lenny Bruce and George Carlin, but no one’s ever come close to David Bowie’s misadventures in Rochester.

Nevertheless, the public domain image depicted above is a glittering lustrous gift to Mr Trump’s campaign and to legions of enterprising swag-mongers, who are already shopping merch across the fruited plains.

In other news, leftists continue to discover right wing racist dog whistles. The latest is “Rigger.” A noun derived from the verb “to rig,” meaning, “one who rigs,” as in, the Prez sez, “Don’t let those Riggers get away with it.”

But what if I were grateful for the rigging. And felt affectionate toward one who had rigged on my behalf. Wouldn’t he be “My Rigga?”

29 September 2023

And as for those of us who delight in Leftists’ anguish over the Great Orange Beast, let it be said that, “He’s our Nigga ’cause he’s yo’ Trigga!”

17 August 2023

I am wary of facial tattoos. A lot of important social information is conveyed by facial expressions, and jewelry, makeup, and tattoos all obscure that. Which aggravates my already considerable social disadvantages, so I generally don’t care for them. To the extent that people who care to discolor or disfigure their faces know this makes the behavior potentially deliberate and underhanded. But not certain.

I get over my bias with regular customers, of course. Steady association with good behavior goes a long way toward allaying my concerns, and I’ve even become friendly with a couple. New fellow came in last night with some elaborate work around the outer orbital of one eye socket, and he was so utterly charming, and charmed by my routine, that when he left, I think he actually gave me permission to refer to him as “my nigga.”

My “usual routine” consists of spoofing both our bankster owners and the users of “electric leashes” (aka cash-apped telephones) and it often provokes many customers to laughing. (It can provoke a few angry fans, too, but that’s a different and sadder story.) This guy (I should point out that he was “black”) just about fell over when I said that F’eral Reserve Notes “stick together like the criminals who print them.”

“You all right, bro!” He smiled as I gave him his goods and his change, and we bumped fists. “Anybody give you shit, you tell ’em, ‘You deal with my nigga, Oxibbit,’ a’ight?”

We shook hands and I said, “Thanks Ox! Be well,” and he left, still chuckling. Another regular customer who was already familiar with my routine came up with his stuff and we smiled at each other and at Oxibbit‘s retreating form. “I think that fellow just gave me permission to call him ‘my nigga,'” I said.

“Does that mean I get to call him ‘your nigga?'” he asked me.

“I guess. That makes sense. Anybody can say anything, actually, but we should also be prepared to accept some consequences for what we say. You get fresh with my Mom and she slaps you, I’m probably gonna cheer her on.”

He laughed and we agreed that while the modularity of English was clear and convenient, social circumspection was also wise. Oxibbit and I may be cool, but his bros may not be aware of that, so I’ll continue to adhere to the FCN rule (about usually not saying Fuck or Cunt or Nigger in front of strangers who aren’t here for my act.)

10 July 2023

“‘Pears I been droppin’ my hook in a fished out crick.”
Jed Clampett

As an ideologue, my favorite living Senator is Rand Paul, but as a fan of wit and rhetorical grace, my current favorite is John Kennedy. His folksy erudition makes me think of Dennis Miller delivering the morning farm report.

10 August 2023
One of my favorite ways of obeying middle management martinets is accurately, thoroughly, and literally.
They usually hate that.
I recall one job (or I may be conflating two or more managers into one) wherein I was directed to account for the time I spent on all of my maintenance tasks for the day. I was firmly informed that filling out these task sheets was now a part of my job, and that compliance was required. Fine by me; it’s their dough, they get to decide how they’re going to spend it. And I’m not a prisoner, so if I want their dough to become mine, I should behave the way they direct, even if I think it is wasteful, foolish, or counter-productive. After about a week the “time sheet” requirement was rescinded. Maybe they didn’t like that just about every other line of mine was accounting for the time that it took to account for the time that it takes to account for time.

18 August 2023
Customers and coworkers often accuse me of being busy and industrious and as having an obvious “Can Do” attitude. I can think of at least two ex-wives, and maybe a couple more former arch nemeses who might disagree, at least with the “busy and industrious” part, and I disagree altogether. I am lazy. I consider it to be one of my fundamental virtues. I am lazy and wise, and I realize that it is generally much easier to do things properly and carefully than to do them over. Also, I’m stubborn, not a fundamental virtue necessarily, but at least a derivative one, so it’s not so much that I have a “Can Do” spirit, but a “fuck you if you think I can’t” attitude instead.