Local Murders

I was thinking back about a Texas murder that took place some years ago where David Travis and his wife were stabbed to death by the teenage son and the son's best buddy, both boys 16 years old. In the process, young Bill made a small error and also killed his best friend. Oops. So he was very tired after so much work and he went to bed and stole the family truck the next morning. I had known David a little in high school long ago, though the most I had to do with him these days was that I sometimes shopped at his family hardware store. So, earlier today, I thought that I could just look up the gruesome story on the Internet, but boy was I wrong. You can find pictures of pimples on a gnat's ass on the Web, but not that creepy murder story! A single website quoted from a book about the Mall Of America (which had been the murderers original destination after the murders) and there was a couple of paragraphs on Bill Travis there. I guess the kid is still serving life in prison somewhere in Texas... If not, I recommend we keep a really tight asshole!

Just Working For A Living

Others went before me and others followed behind me and when I'm not even remembered, even newer workers will be there in the spaces that I used to occupy. That's how it works. No one is indispensable. I continued to work a long while at Mosquito University after my father retired from it. It was long enough to see that others of less skill or willingness to do the work well could nonetheless do the work, satisfy the bosses, could "carry on". When I left there, I had no illusions about how organizations go on without the individual.

Losing One's Humor

I am not as entertaining as I once was. But then I'm not as easily entertained, either.

Stalker

Are you stalking me yet? Time is running out, you know.

Will I Like Being Dead?

Deal, Stranger!
Sometimes I wonder if I'd like being dead. After all, I suppose that we'll all someday have to. I often speculate that I will-- No more responsibility, you know, And no more work!--nonetheless, I remain uncertain about the comforts of hell And the pains of physical passing That may or may not be a big deal.

The Bloated Ones

Some bloggers, I sometimes notice, think they are dealing with the "truth" somehow, but most of them are full of crap, just like most of the people that you may meet in person. Like a talking head on TV, though, many bloggers worship and admire themselves, and that's all. Wouldn't it be nice if we could destroy all the bloated blockheads in the world? (I don't mean the fat people--just the fatheads!).

Information

Born To Kvetch

My entertainment has always included an addiction to information, no doubt starting with 35 and 50-cent paperbacks when I was a teenager and, of course, a lot of books from the library. Even before computers and the Internet, I used to keep a lot of notes on things that I would look up later, when I got the chance to use a dictionary or other reference book. Once I had access to the Internet at my local library--I didn't have access at home for a good long while after that--I'd copy info off the Web and mail it to my email address. I could retrieve the info once I was home by using the old slow dial-up email system I had at first that didn't even include any Internet time--a weird configuration, hey? But not weirder than 35-cent paperback books! Nowadays, paperbacks are so costly than I don't even bother to look at them any more! With various computers that I've owned over the past 20 years, I stored information on many files, the info sometimes lasting through one computer to another, sometimes not. It's gotten to where more and more of it means less to me. I think the omnipresence of the Internet has erased my old-fashioned sense of possession or the desire to possess the info. If I forget it, I can just look it up again--even easier in most cases than owning all the reference books! But most of all, I don't think I care any more about what I know or how much I know. Enough of the old self survives that it's nice not to be completely ignorant, but I nonetheless find myself to be very ignorant. I wish it wasn't so, but I can't get excited about it. For instance, my new laptop has both a new OS and a new browser, so there seems to be hundreds of things that are different from what was once "second nature". Adding to that, it's a different brand of computer, so I'm not exactly lost, but neither am I familiar any more with any corner, nook, crevice, or cranny of my own computer! No matter how many times I've done such-and-such, it was on a completely different machine and setup, goddammit!

When

When I'm dead, It will all be clear, Or not.

Fond Recall

I guess I ought to acknowledge that it's strange, All the memories of you that are stockpiled inside me, Along with those of all the rest--my world. It's a wonder that I can still remember or recall Those distant moments, not so important even then, Except to me. Now all are Worn down, grown thin, elapsed, Semi-forgotten yet there nonetheless. Why do I even care? Why not let them go, Diminish, retaining nothing, Grow dim like something burnt up so long ago It sheds no further light?

The Man Who Saved The World

Nothing could have been more important, yet we live in such a superficial and sensationalistic world that Norman Borlaug is barely even among the most famous people in the world of the present time. Most of us knuckleheads never knew of his accomplishments or don't remember them! It's a crying shame.

Notes To An Old Friend

I think it's wonderful if you've avoided becoming significantly more conservative as you've aged. I think I'm probably as liberal as I ever was, though I guess I have gotten appreciatively meaner.

Singing With Angels?

Is Michael Jackson singing with the other white Negroes in heaven? Or anywhere else?

Hobo's Cats

I don't think you are who you used to be And certainly not who you think you are, And, you know, I'm such a crud, I'm no better than I was, myself! Shall we just admit it And play another game tomorrow Or go on with this pretense? My life's charade is running down, May already be over, I fear, While all the shadow chessmen move on or off the game board And all these shallow disapproving smiles Appear and disappear to me all night Like a hobo's unfed cats...

Is this fascinating or what?!

LORD OF THE LAWSUITS
I can't tell if it is or not. Seems like JRR Tolkien's children, now 80 and 84, have won their suit against the movie company owners. They were asking for 150 million dollars, but I can't tell if they got less. Apparently, most of it will go to charities. Everything is as clear as mud. The news story: Warner Bros. settles lawsuit.

Plus or Minus

It doesn't matter Whether I deserve this or not, This is what I've got. Can't give any of it back, Can't add much more than regret.

Woodstock (For The Slow Reader)

Joni Mitchell: "I don't know who l am But you know life is for learning"

Spin Landing

It's hard to see my life in here, Whether I am you or whether I am me. I work a bit, I work all day, I roll along and cover up and tell it all, But never let a word of it get through. No, never let a word of it come true. You understand? I'm glad that's clear.