The Life of a Traveling Bible Salesman:
Quote for the Day:
Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.
Voltaire
...and what a day it was:
Fear not children, I have returned from what turned out to be a rather taxing trip to the quaint Victorian burg of Franklin, Indiana and I am still pissed. What should have been a 3 hour trip each way was extended to a 5 hour trip one way and a four hour trip in return.
I got behind some kind of wide load convoy that was so large the thoughtful State Police closed down all lanes behind it; I also had the misfortune of following said convoy, all the way to Franklin. Lets just say I wasn’t in the best of moods upon arrival, add to that that I some how managed to spill a cup of coffee on my leg during the trip and you get an idea of the day.
However, on my return trip after enjoying a bag of pork cracklings and a Mr. Pibb soda, I found my mood boosted. My flower called and told me she was planning on having supper waiting for me at my return. She then asked if I would like those New York Strips we have in the freezer. My reply was a resounding “Yes!” I spent the rest of my drive listening to Blue Notes recordings of the great John Coaltrain and thinking about those steaks.
Upon my arrival up the manor drive, I finally felt some relief, a day from hell was at an end, a Monday to remember. I entered the home though the servants gate at which point I was racked by the hounds in an over-exuberate effort to bond with the alpha-leader of our pack (myself). I picked myself up and continued onward to the front parlor where I found my wife engrossed in a re-run on E, of the SAG awards and a meal of box mix macaroni and cheese waiting me.
It seems the steaks would of taken to long to cook and she was engrossed in the show she was watching. I don’t know about you but I find box mix macaroni and cheese a suitable alternative to food only when A) you have children (we do not) or B) when your shit faced drunk and entertaining an Irish Rugby team at your home (a story for another time).
I did what any married man would do at this crucial point, I wisely shut the fuck up and ate my box mix macaroni and cheese with a side of Lima beans and commented how god-damn tasty it all was, and how thoughtful she had been. After which I said I was going to bed. Which I did, turning in at 9 pm. Soon afterward, my loving bride traipsed up-stairs and in our marital chambers tried to seduce me by lip-syncing the 70’s soul classic “Brickhouse”.
Brothers and sisters, this is when I had both a stoke of genius and a revelation. The genius was my response. I said “Baby, I would really love to, but I have had a nasty stomach problem all day and fear that half-way though I might have to dash off to the toilet” we are married, married people can say stuff like that to each other. The realization was that I am getting old, in my younger years (i.e. last year) the way to come down from such a fucked day would of be to go get drunk and screw like rabbits. I just wanted to go to sleep. Which I did, with no hurt feelings.
Which takes me to sleep, I woke once again having someone else’s dream, chiefly I suspect the Texan whose knee I have. I dreamt I won a rodeo, yes all dressed up like a cowboy. I won and after I won I was approached by a older heavy-set women who gave my a hug and said “Honey, I do so wish Gary would have been here to see this, that and your Mama would have been so proud”. I don’t know anyone named Gary, but I must say that win was for you and Mama. This was at 1:30 am. I have been up since then and so starts another fun filled day in the service of my fellow man.
For Today:
I am in town today and back on the road Wednesday afternoon not to return until late Thursday afternoon or early evening. I have some planning to do with the new job stuff and a few things to get off my desk, so I need to get my head in the game early and keep it there.
The News:
It was stupid has fuck to try a filibuster on Alito, done deal, to the victor belong the spoils. We all knew how important the second term would be for the direction of the country and the best they could do was run Kerry.
What the democratic party needs to do is connect with the middle class and help them see how fucked they are getting and re-connect with the poor, notice I didn’t say the poor black or the poor Hispanics but the poor, NASCAR fans vote to. Instead they focus to playing to a far left that long ago got tenure, got vested in their 401k, signed a new multi-million dollar movie deal, or joined the Green Party. I am calling it yet again, if they put up Hillary to run it will be the death knell for this last best hope to protect and look out for the working classes, the democratic party.
Your weekly Bush Bashing:
(One ring to unite them, precious)
Today’s Bill:
“To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub."
--From Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)
Thought for the Day:
Eat a third and drink a third and leave the remaining third of your stomach empty. Then, when you get angry, there will be sufficient room for your rage.
Babylonian Talmud, tractate Gittin
I remain, the kid who had back hair & smoked Camel Non-Fliters in 5th grade:
JQP esq.
Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.
Voltaire
...and what a day it was:
Fear not children, I have returned from what turned out to be a rather taxing trip to the quaint Victorian burg of Franklin, Indiana and I am still pissed. What should have been a 3 hour trip each way was extended to a 5 hour trip one way and a four hour trip in return.
I got behind some kind of wide load convoy that was so large the thoughtful State Police closed down all lanes behind it; I also had the misfortune of following said convoy, all the way to Franklin. Lets just say I wasn’t in the best of moods upon arrival, add to that that I some how managed to spill a cup of coffee on my leg during the trip and you get an idea of the day.
However, on my return trip after enjoying a bag of pork cracklings and a Mr. Pibb soda, I found my mood boosted. My flower called and told me she was planning on having supper waiting for me at my return. She then asked if I would like those New York Strips we have in the freezer. My reply was a resounding “Yes!” I spent the rest of my drive listening to Blue Notes recordings of the great John Coaltrain and thinking about those steaks.
Upon my arrival up the manor drive, I finally felt some relief, a day from hell was at an end, a Monday to remember. I entered the home though the servants gate at which point I was racked by the hounds in an over-exuberate effort to bond with the alpha-leader of our pack (myself). I picked myself up and continued onward to the front parlor where I found my wife engrossed in a re-run on E, of the SAG awards and a meal of box mix macaroni and cheese waiting me.
It seems the steaks would of taken to long to cook and she was engrossed in the show she was watching. I don’t know about you but I find box mix macaroni and cheese a suitable alternative to food only when A) you have children (we do not) or B) when your shit faced drunk and entertaining an Irish Rugby team at your home (a story for another time).
I did what any married man would do at this crucial point, I wisely shut the fuck up and ate my box mix macaroni and cheese with a side of Lima beans and commented how god-damn tasty it all was, and how thoughtful she had been. After which I said I was going to bed. Which I did, turning in at 9 pm. Soon afterward, my loving bride traipsed up-stairs and in our marital chambers tried to seduce me by lip-syncing the 70’s soul classic “Brickhouse”.
Brothers and sisters, this is when I had both a stoke of genius and a revelation. The genius was my response. I said “Baby, I would really love to, but I have had a nasty stomach problem all day and fear that half-way though I might have to dash off to the toilet” we are married, married people can say stuff like that to each other. The realization was that I am getting old, in my younger years (i.e. last year) the way to come down from such a fucked day would of be to go get drunk and screw like rabbits. I just wanted to go to sleep. Which I did, with no hurt feelings.
Which takes me to sleep, I woke once again having someone else’s dream, chiefly I suspect the Texan whose knee I have. I dreamt I won a rodeo, yes all dressed up like a cowboy. I won and after I won I was approached by a older heavy-set women who gave my a hug and said “Honey, I do so wish Gary would have been here to see this, that and your Mama would have been so proud”. I don’t know anyone named Gary, but I must say that win was for you and Mama. This was at 1:30 am. I have been up since then and so starts another fun filled day in the service of my fellow man.
For Today:
I am in town today and back on the road Wednesday afternoon not to return until late Thursday afternoon or early evening. I have some planning to do with the new job stuff and a few things to get off my desk, so I need to get my head in the game early and keep it there.
The News:
It was stupid has fuck to try a filibuster on Alito, done deal, to the victor belong the spoils. We all knew how important the second term would be for the direction of the country and the best they could do was run Kerry.
What the democratic party needs to do is connect with the middle class and help them see how fucked they are getting and re-connect with the poor, notice I didn’t say the poor black or the poor Hispanics but the poor, NASCAR fans vote to. Instead they focus to playing to a far left that long ago got tenure, got vested in their 401k, signed a new multi-million dollar movie deal, or joined the Green Party. I am calling it yet again, if they put up Hillary to run it will be the death knell for this last best hope to protect and look out for the working classes, the democratic party.
Your weekly Bush Bashing:
(One ring to unite them, precious)
Today’s Bill:
“To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub."
--From Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)
Thought for the Day:
Eat a third and drink a third and leave the remaining third of your stomach empty. Then, when you get angry, there will be sufficient room for your rage.
Babylonian Talmud, tractate Gittin
I remain, the kid who had back hair & smoked Camel Non-Fliters in 5th grade:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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