In the trenches of bureaucracy a risk of a paper cut still remains high in spite of digital first preference.
I had to leaf though 300 booklets to check I'd inserted a paperclip in each correctly and in bending an inside straight bit on one I jammed it under my right index nail.
A paperclip cut; that's like breakdance fighting.
I have a fat, hairy back. When it's sweaty it itches.
I needed to deal with that in situ on a stationery bike and the most apt to hand device was my novelty DAD ROCKS licence plate---display only, the metal too thin for actual (and illegal) use.
But that very weakness was at the core of its admitted utility as a scratcher as the slender plate could flex then whip-scrape across the afflicted slurry of sweaty back hair and skin bringing gushing of relief.
I felt like a Womble; short, hairy and making use of a thing that I found.
Now I am a white male and with location and money am in the top three per cent of world wealth earnings and as The Crown so artfully reminds us we are in danger of forgetting our status when whining about bullshit we deal with during our en-rule from dawn to fucking dusk.
Still, acknowledgement that my status, or Credit in Chaosium terms (if you instantly know what I mean you’re a full nerd), declared being a PoS within that Venn slit of WMP I was on the cusp of not being there.
I got punished for being shit and thrown into the Sarlacc maw of an all-boys NSW private school in the ‘80s where the threat of violence hung over you each and every moment; either peer-to-peer or from management.
If you were a PoS you were used as an example on how now to be a PoS; literally paraded on stage before all to have your fucking flaws doxxed.
That happened once; maybe twice. It’s hard to know because the miasma of hurt that was about 1600 days in duration was so brutal my active mind won’t open the doors to the dark of the past.
Fuck me, I was sentenced to a place where sociopaths and pederasts both were drawn to the ranks of staff and free to inflict abuse across the full arc of human suffering.
I didn’t get raped; I got molested and had multiple attempts on my life as well as told every day that I was a PoS.
But, life still goes on and I keep living my life living my life etc.
The best revenge is living well; for I was sentenced to this body for a crime I didn’t commit like The A-Team, and I also have a black van with a racing stripe and I mysteriously evade the auspices of the military police establishment.
I hit adulthood ready to fail and fell upward; that’s pretty neat.
WFTW.
I got mad at my old laptop for not working even though it's over ten years old and at 97 per cent memory used. I had to send a stressful ping that I'd promised my future self I'd do and then now self had to do it and the very old machine would not co-operate.
I got so mad my partner hid behind a locked door. I don't blame her.
But it's done and now YouTube is telling me to party like it is 2012. That was an awesome party year unlike this year which has blown goats (we are proof).
All those words make sense and, indeed, in the order presented.
That's the modern workscape for you; social media is now part of your day-to-day.
Three useless things that have actively harmed chunks of society; and for what? Nothing. Except lining the pockets of the cigarette, wig and tie makers.
I am a sucker for awesome theme music. I love the The Mandalorian theme as much as GoT and I sing it around the house for mundane activities like doing a poo or laundry.
Four years ago we experienced going down the "wrong trouser leg of time" (1). Here we are and it's 2020 and what if we go down the wrong leg again?
When Sean Connery died the first thought was that what a shame he died before he knew the result.Then what if his departure was sensibly timed? What if his Scottish senses were tingling and he was "Fuck this; I'm oot!"? because Trump was lettin' the tartan team doon?(2)
I don't know what is going to happen; I got so stressed I rode thirty kays on a stationary bike.
This is big—like moon landing big. Which is ironic because like that Trump will claim it's all fake.
Anyway, good luck, America—and probs save us all.
(1) RIP, Tez.
(2) Also, because SC had his issues—my favourite of which was that he regularly sat in an orgone accumulator—maybe
they'll stuff him in, paint it in plaid and he be buried at loch? Don't
worry, he'll be back. He'll return to make a direst sequel to Highlander2.
(A testicle is harmed in this story, the identity is named near the end)
My body is shabby like and I don't like to move so I couldn't hand over the remote.
So I toe-fingered it across. Off went a sock, remote slotted 'tween bose and index then I reached out my foot.
I was proud of my work but at the height of my gloat my cat trod on a testicle.
It was the left one.
That is a good reminder of life; that at the height of a win you can cop a whack to the nuts.
Also ageing is balls.
So he has the COVID.
UPDATE1: Didn't phase him but also no lessons learned; and he's holding superspreader events again. What does this mean? Who knows?! Honestly, he's survived more than many human being before us and you can't but help think you're a sprite in his first person adventure.
I bet he will prosper from it. I don't know how, he just will. He's beaten everything else, why not this?!
UPDATE2: It's late October. It didn't phase him but also no lessons learned; and he's holding superspreader events again. Can't make this shit up.
Jesus, ant-whispering Christ, how much do we miss Game of Thrones?! I miss it SO much! I started re-watching it form the beginning back when my mum was dying and I do miss it so.
Technically even an ant-whisper levels if Jesus applied the full Voice of God effect the ants would no longer be here. And that’s tough for the ants. Poor little fuckers
Imagine if an ant suddenly grasped the true nature of the universe. Would the ant brain explode from the knowledge or would it grow a massive termite mound sized brain that endowed it with psionic prowess?!
I bet it would. Apparently the sheer mass of ants outweighs the mass of all people.So if aliens applied biomass equals top life then ants would win.
Also, best episode of GoT is S06E09; because "we made a pact."
