Tuesday, October 16, 2001
humor never fails you, unless you're a humorless boron. this seems to be the case with our company's take on "america strikes back: the war within." we recently got an email stating that, in accordance with president bush's express wishes, we are all to be on the lookout for suspicious packages. not that everyone is a grade A genius and not that everyone knows when to be suspicious, but c'mon people. are we tards? here's some of the telltale signs of a suspicious package, according to one kathy burks, verio hr representative (i shit you not):
-It comes from a strange place
-There are stains on the outside (oily discolorations)
-It has an unusual odor
-It emits some kind of ticking or sound
-There are protruding wires or aluminum foil
-It has been sealed excessively with masking tape or string
this is life in america. rob's girlfriend had a saying that relates. she said america's slogan should be "safety first."
added this comment feature at the bottom. i'm def. getting carried away with this technology. but fascinating nevertheless. i was talking to carlos about it today. mike d. and i saw him on the way back from lunch. we ducked into the hideout on congress and hung out for a bit with him. there was this drink called a coca-cino on the board behind the counter. coca-cola, cappuccino, vanilla, and half/half. holy caffeinated work day batman. i was glued to the ceiling for the rest of the afternoon. mike said "i'll have to go throw up, and then order another one." i concur. it probably shaves 3 years off your life, but what wonderful missing years those are. at any rate, props to carlos for being across the street and forcing us out of our dull, soul-wrenching routine.
it doesn't happen enough, man.
Monday, October 15, 2001
so i figured a way to update this blog from aim, which is kind of cool: bloggerbot.
a friend of mine's girlfriend is thinking about going into the fbi. i know, i know, rob. it's not the fbi. i just like to harass rob. some mysterious gov't agency doing mysterious things. intelligence work. whatever. not that the world revolves around me, but this made me think about if i would be any good as a g-man. i mean, would i cut the mustard? my honest answer would have to be no. i would suck as an fbi guy. for the past w/end, all we've heard on the news is how we all have to be on the highest state of alert. watch out. look closely. observe your fellow humans. and i realized, that all i had done all w/end was lay up in bed with a sore throat and read. i didn't even read anything current. my neighbors could've been smuggling anthrax out of their back kitchen and i wouldn't have noticed a thing. to top it off, i don't notice anything when i'm driving or when i'm at work. there were specks of powder all over the place that i just ignored. i barely realize when other people are out sick. this is pathetic.
i'm reading j.d. salinger's nine stories, kurt vonnegut's bluebeard, and hunter s. thompson's songs of the doomed. all very good in their own right and of the same chord. life is strange and wonderful and weird. there are plenty of things to notice. you just have to know how to look.
i was just watching the news and the weatherman is talking about the weather in afghanistan. i mean he's got the map up and he's talking about a cold front that's coming up from india, like it's texas. i thought it was some sort of gag. he didn't really mention why he was doing this. maybe we're all going to end up over there and they want to prepare us? should i wear a windbreaker in kabul today?
Friday, October 12, 2001
i'm not one of these people that is against the current bombing or thinks the whole mess is our fault. it's not our fault. nothing justifies this. and it's hard for me not to support a "war on terrorism." who's for terrorism? raise your hands. but, just the same, i wish i saw less of bush on t.v. he just makes me wince. i'm rooting for him when he gets up to say something, but he's like that favorite losing team that you have; he isn't going to score and he'll fumble in the last quarter.
everyone i talk to about this says either a) yeah, of course, he's an idiot...you didn't vote for that guy did you? or b) well, he just doesn't know how to speak in public...but he's hired great people!!! i don't really agree with either. he's not an idiot, but he is lazy with his words and he doesn't seem to care about learning how to prepare and give a speech. he also seems nervous all the time; which scares me. i also don't think that he's the antichrist or that he's going to ruin American life as we know it. i haven't been overwhelmingly impressed with any of his staff save for Rumsfield, who seems like he could keep a press conference going for 24 hours straight. but then a general will stand up and say something inane. "this is the new type of warfare." some shit like that. i don't know. i guess i just feel kind of mixed about the big lug.
Saturday, October 06, 2001
about the best thing i've read so far about this whole shitstorm tragedy:
on duty with the blessed virgin mother
two of my favorite bits...
Stop saying how they jumped from the windows. Stop showing those dangling window-ledge legs. Stop saying it is like the dark side of the moon. We are not Neil Armstrong -- we stumbled and grunted our way out of and back into the ruins.
Don't get a stomachache. That's just what they want you to do. Don't be alarmed. That's just what they want you to do. Don't go to Mass and get down on your knees in confusion. That's just what they want you to do. Don't skip Mass. That's just what they want you to do. Don't think. Don't stop to reevaluate your entire situation. That's just what they want you to do.
I will punch the next person who says, "That's just what they want you to do."
amen, sister. say a novena for all of us.
there've been a lot of layoffs where i work. everywhere, i guess. obviously. the mood in the office has gone south pretty quick. i try to just get in, get out, but it's hard. a lot of idealists wandering around with their heads blown off. i thought we mattered, etc. i hung christmas lights in my cube, to show i'm in no mood for any of it. every once in awhile i lob a perfectly arc'd miniature basketball over the cubes at the tyrant. he comes over and asks me if i want to pay for his computer. "of course," i say. the last refuge of a man in the bitter throes of post-layoff malaise is pure, whip-saw sarcasm.
i couldn't sleep, so i decided to start using blogger for shorter entries. off the cuff. random. whatever. i'll bleed less this way. i hate most blogs. but, so what? it's life on this weird planet. most of it is boring.