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Life in the Empire

A thread dedicated towards possible solutions rather than the rather pessimistic fare we engage in with much of our other communication.

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Mayday had me thinking that my life was being managed by people who had no idea wothefuck was going on and frankly didn't care.  They want to keep their sanity. By avoiding all bad vibes.  Then Cornholio madness hit a week before I got on the Zephyr.  To where?  I could go anywhere.  The idea was to kill a couple weeks and see what was happening.  There were demons and angels and hallucinations.  And a buncha shit that was real as the Freak Show at Union Station.  Year-long sentence to the Duckburg Freak Show was totally unplanned.  
Loony Larry continues his porch sale at the front window right now.  He dragged the alleys for years (I am told) and filled his appt. and basement storage space with such things.  Mostly furniture. Speakers.  Bed frames and TVs and such. He got an eviction notice in June and has been enjoying the Cornholio eviction moratorium by buying power washers and such to fix his derelict truck (which was out front with an abandoned vehicle sticker when I got here) with his local dole money ( so they say ) from the local govt..  
"I often dream my own teeth are crumbling and falling to my hands. But it doesn’t make flying any easier for me."   

The ShitShow Continues...

"You know the people I’m talking about. Some of them are probably your friends and family, people you have known for years, and who had always seemed completely rational, but who are now convinced that we need to radically alter the fabric of human society to protect ourselves from a virus that causes mild to moderate flu-like symptoms (or absolutely no symptoms at all) in over 95% of those infected, and that over 99.6% survive, which, it goes without saying, is totally insane."  

But not like global warming or anything... while the planet cooks and oceans die.  Pay no attention to JoeShit (the rag man) behind the curtain.  It's about as relevant as the Stoopid Bowl.  

Covidiot's facts are wrong. Mortality rate in US is 3.2% not .4%. Oh, well. Who cares about that shit anymore?

Biden Campaign Gets Kamala Harris Quickly Up To Speed On Candidate’s Plans For Presidential Funeral Service

https://politics.theonion.com/nib-biden-campaign-gets-kamala-harris...

Whatever.  I was the canary in the coal mine long enough and i didn't die.  And even if I had... who gives a shit?   Moishe the Beadle just wants attention.  And he's crazy.  You know how they are.   

Freakish Arctic Fires Alarmingly Intensify

Today I am using the terms "skullfuckery" and "assfuckery" intergably.  They are actually different.  Skullfuckery is what "management" does to you when you are still working for a paycheck.  Assfuckery is what they do to you when you're poor.  And can't "work" any more.  Same in academia as it is everywhere else.  BOHICA.   

"With the return of nationalism on a global scale guided by the post 2013 New Silk Road framework, and especially within America itself since Trump’s 2016 election, these hives of indoctrinated scholars have been in conniption fits over the loss of their utopian blueprints for a New World Order."  The DOD... aka. Dick of Death.     

"“You keep [your mind] too near your devices for loving,” one male colleague told her, drawing the link explicitly. “Loathsome bitch,” said another."    And the funny thing is... I am really starting to hate "liberals" who can't tell skullfuckery from assfuckery.  Especially in the comments section on Disqus.   “It’s important for local papers to have a website that’s clean, usable, and mobile friendly, with a newsletter to develop relationships with readers,” they say.  

How's your online banking working these days?    

Old Jew  

Shenandoah Valley, 1895   


Old Henry was drunk as a hootie owl and demented as a belfry bat screaming out of a Harrisburg clocktower like some parrot rifle blast at  Edelweiss or something in the fine crystal next to ein shot glass now empty. Here comes old mutti Dilger, dodging all the waiters and clattering them up as usual.  Heil, he should know them all by now.  Morse pebble goddammit another whiskey boy und glass shot fur old man Dilger. Schnell boy.  Macht schnell!  Forbear the sauce Henry.  Always happy to take your free train ride, but you had enough.  Enough? You silly old grandmother Dilger.  We had enough at the battle.  And that was even before you shot the bishop in two. Daisies.  That's what they are.  Dixie Daisy.  Whatever happened to that girl.  Ach Granny Dilger always wants to talk about girls in the middle of a goddam war.  Henry you pitiful Hessian puppy.  The war is over.   We buried old Jew last year.  Und his verdammt old lost cause with him. Tombstone shadow on the green.   


There are no quotes in this story because all conversation is overheard from another lifetime.  Hubert Dilger and Jubal Early are real, and so is the US Civil War.  George Pullman was real too, and demented Henry purchased several of his cars and converted them to crowded cafes renowned for their lager beer, corned beef and cabbage.  There were girls from the theatre too, but that's another story.   This story is about a man and flowers and a crowded cafe.  Dementia is something we are all born with... first as we make incomplete connections... and then as they begin to unravel.  A disorder of the process, it is, thousands of years before Zarathustra's puzzlement over the stars in their courses.  The dining car rocked gently on the Shenandoah Valley line scarcely disturbing the cut glass and cigar smoke. Compostmodern writers are not paid by the line like Dickens.  They now reduce reuse and recycle with their thumbs, left to own devices as obtuse as Melville.  


So emoticons veil your disorder, Shenandoah!      

Pirate Jenny   

(a ghost story)  

Cuz there's nobody gonna sleep here

Shenandoah Cafe, 2020    
Jenny is a waitress.  Old Henry was a regular.  Jenny was young enough to be his granddaughter when she met him years ago- some crazy old fuck with PTSD from Vietnam or something.  He went off on a rant at the lunch hour during Jenny's first week of employment, and that freaked out the peeps even more than running out of kosher corned beef and coleslaw. Rap rap went standing Henry's cane and hushed the peeps attention to eye sat in a goddam sloshing bathtub of blood you pissant fucktard he roared.  And rapped old Slicksell Don (another regular) smartly aside the toupee, knocking it into the salad bar.  They talked about it for years.  Especially old bald Dan.  But Henry was harmless enough. Jenny was the L-19 I flew in Vietnam he told her.  She had yellow wings.  Henry came in for good coffee and left for good tips.  Jenny put daisies in a vase she bought from the railroad museum in Durham (if Henry behaved himself).  Until this terrible Halloween night.  
A Georgia peach, humphed Dan.  You say she was here for hours.  And then he was dead as a whistling cadaver grey granite without a drop of blood in him by a ghastly pale moon.  Clutching your daisies outta that vase. Jenny I realize you own the place now.  Somebody dropped the dishes applause and you can't hear yourself think since you opened the bar.   No.  He was at the window Dan.  I could read his lips.  His voice behind me.  Pirate Jenny he said.  That's what he always called me.  You scaring me Jen.  We at the funeral.  Scare yourself you goddam old faggot.  Remember that veil we put on him because he was dead in the park so long.  To cover that leering grin. He was at that front window last night not three fucking feet away Dan.  Voice a cool wind on the back of my neck.  Pirate Jenny.  Then he was gone. Easy there pirate Jenny.  The kids will close up for you.  I will take you home. Daisy was her name.  Don't you remember.   No.   I don't. 
        
Dan.  I saw the veil lift.  I saw it.   

Well here it is 1/23/21 typing one handed and wondering what the rbc is doing now.  I seem to have fallen off somewhere in bizarro world and cant get up.  

Still of the earth. On one in the immediate family has gotten the covid yet. But anxiety is a lot higher than it used to be. Had to completely disconnect from mainstream social media due to toxicity and censorship issues. Bizarro world to say the least.

I spend alot of time listening to music, doing home projects and watching surfing videos now. We talked a lot about  collapse in years past, but there's really no way to describe until you see it.

Still in Florida.  Not that difficult to stay away from people as that is pretty much the way we are anyway.  Miss traveling.  Slightly relieved that Trump is out but fully understand that disinformation is rampant and - with a few notable exceptions - there is no one in elected office who really cares much about anything but being in elected office.

Tried to reply earlier and it didn't work.....

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