Category Archives: Society

A tentless hobo

The 1993 gold Saturn that was stolen Monday, recovered Thursday morning, is back in its spot from which it was abducted, worse for wear in that the tiny geode is forever lost.

That and $311 bucks and a whirlwind trip to fetch it out of hoc.

Oh, did I mention that we gained a few things in the deal? Yeah:

  • 1 hobo tent
  • 1 empty duffel
  • 1 weed pipe
  • 1 uneaten taco
  • 1 bag of miscellaneous clothing
  • garbage and crap and cigarette smoke

It seems that whomever stole the car took it to get from point A to B and picked up his crappy gear along the way. He slipped a slimjim ribbon steel down to unlock it. Then took a filed down jimmy key and wiggled and wiggled the key until he could crank it over. Done.  Drive away and sleep in the back and abandon it and his stuff in a wooded area outside of Portland.

The car is sitting back where we expect to sit. But now, the battery has been pulled out and we’ll put it back only to drive it, rarely, or to the auction where we’ll get rid of this beloved albatross. Someday.

What a week.


Cops and Robbers (towing)

Good (maybe) news!

Our 1993 gold Saturn was recovered, externally undamaged, by the Portland Police and towed by a towing company to its impound area.

Now, for the privilege of having our car stolen, we get to pay $300 (today only) for the honor of having our car returned to us (and towed from there back to our residence — for additional cost).

Sounds like a racket to me.

 


A thief in the day

Yesterday, between seven and nine pm, the old 1993 gold Saturn I bought new when my son was born was stolen from the covered spot right in front of the apartment in which my wife and I live. We could look out and see it there. California, Utah, Oregon—26 years old.

The sun hadn’t even set. People walked their dogs and kids around the place. Someone with balls the size of grapefruit had the audacity to steal that old, nearly worthless car.

God Damn It.

And the only thing of value in the whole car was a geode I’d saved from a dig with the family back in 2003 in Delta, Utah. The size of a robin’s egg, this geode represented the “thing” I was going to save until my last breath when I’d say to my kids, “let’s see what’s inside this, shall we?” It had rattled around in the ashtray for 16 years.

The Universe is absurd, indifferent and oblivious.

Yup, it sure is.

 


Your Favorite: a stand-up round

Where I’m working, we have morning stand-ups: a quick meeting where 10 -/+ of us round the room explaining yesterday’s and today’s tasks. Everyone takes a monthly turn at leading. June is my month. So, first off, I built a spinner to pick who goes first:

Spinner

Then, I provided a list of topics that each person could volunteer their favorite. Each day a different topic:

Favorite…

  • Media
    • Movies
    • Books, stories, games
    • Media star or fictional character – hero, villain or
    • Fictional location – in what fictional land would you care to live or visit
    • Meme/genre: sci-fi, fantasy, time shift, horror, dystopia, CSI, medical, cops/crime
  • Food
    • A meal or food you’d eat every day for the rest of your life
    • Beverage
    • Sweet or treat: childhood or now
    • Least favorite food
    • Haven’t tried but would like to
  • Travel
    • Prior vacation spot
    • Desired vacation spot
    • Live the rest of your life
    • Would never travel to, worst placed you’ve lived
    • Where would you take the entire team?
  • Misc
    • Favorite science meme: fusion, space elevator, Moon/Mars colony, robots, AI, etc.
    • Music, do you play an instrument, can you dance, are you in a band?
    • Unknown skills (art, maker, cooking, crafts, etc.)
    • Pet, childhood memory, hobby, best/worst job
    • Bucket list: anything

So far the answers have been fun, strange and entertaining.

(Who knew that some folks don’t like shrimp, sushi, liver & onions, cilantro, bean sprouts? Odd people, these.)


Writer’s Log: 2048 Disturbing Content

All of us can dream up some pretty ugly scenarios.

Depraved, disturbing, deranged. I’d wager you could come up with some horrific scenes with some downright criminal activity. Stuff you’d feel you could never put to paper. So, how is it that some authors can actually write that stuff and not be thought of as insane?

For my latest work in progress I’ve decided to abandon some of my social constraints and write of gawd-awful acts and heinous behavior. Immolation, horse stomping children, murdering a pregnant woman, soon the dismemberment of a “bad dude.”

Holy Hell Batman! That’s some nasty shit. Are you sure you want to have your name associated with such wickedness? Are you sure you want your editor/mother (78) to read of such unspeakable cruelty? What will she think of you now? Disturbed? Perverted?

Frankly, I don’t know. But, I figure if I can visualize it, then so can others, and if it fits the story, then so be it.

But, day-yam, that’s some corrupt sewage leaking out of my brain.

Have you written content you know others would find disturbing? Did their consternation and potential ostracization influence your writing?

 

 


CorpPharma: Evil Incarnate

A while ago I wrote the attached post which explains when
open markets make sense (capitalism) and when social systems make sense (socialism):

https://anonymole.com/2017/01/07/when-open-markets-make-sense/

Subsequently, I was not surprised to find supporting evidence of this theory.

The CorpPharm company Pfizer, recently exhibited the exact behavior outlined in that post: If a life saving, life benefiting drug is not profitable, or about to be released for generic production, thereby reducing or eliminating the profit potential, then said drug will be abandoned.

Embrel is a drug to treat rheumatoid arthritis. An unintended side affect is that it most likely reduces or eliminates Alzheimers in those patients who take it (64% of those showing signs benefited). It’s about to have its 20 year exclusivity (another contentious anti-society factor) expire.

So, of course Pfizer won’t be investigating this drug for alternate use as a dementia reduction drug. It wouldn’t be profitable.

Fuck the millions of elderly who are susceptible.

Pharmaceuticals are the exact industry that should NOT be placed in the hands of capitalists.
“Give us your sick, your needy, your dying — and we will make them sicker and get rich doing it.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/pfizer-had-clues-its-blockbuster-drug-could-prevent-alzheimers-why-didnt-it-tell-the-world/2019/06/04/9092e08a-7a61-11e9-8bb7-0fc796cf2ec0_story.html


I’ve fallen in love with your spirit

Let it be known that I’ve fallen in love with your spirit.

Not you specifically. You could be the proverbial “no one knows you’re a dog on the internet.” (Not that you’re ugly or that you lick your privates, or beg for treats at inopportune times.)

No, it’s not you, per se, for how can anyone truly know who you *are* on the net?

But rather, it’s you — that adventurous soul who dares to strike out, to pick up and move when the mood or necessity strikes you. It’s you and your familiar predilections and inferences that seem like memories. It’s you, whose universe circulates thirty degrees in front (or behind) my own. It’s you whose scant mention of the trivialities of life have made me think, yeah, that’s exactly how I’d interpret that.

The online world condemns and empowers us to love from afar. There are those folks who you’ve met online, have read about, dreamt about, or envisioned meeting, sipping coffee together as the sun crawls over the snow topped mountain. They’ve expressed themselves in such a way that you feel their yearning, their doubts and their failures. We ache that we can’t be there to comfort them, console them. And we, at times, fantasize about such spirits entering our own lives, consoling and pampering our forlorn selves.

Let it be known this love letter goes out to you. If you’ve ever hoped that your sentiment has found its niche on some relic strew shelf, nestled next to mine, know that the sharing of such moments are not phantasms of fallacy. For who is to say that connections made through the ether of net cannot transcend into the ether of cosmic connection.

I entered into this whimsical meandering with a singular contact in mind. Yet, as I explored the concept, it occurred to me that we all, most likely, have fallen in love (or perhaps love’s veneer, infatuation) with those whom we’ve encountered here in the mind’s most fertile playground.

I thought to question it. Coat my daydreams with remorse or shame. But why? Our lives are so narrow these days; mere pockets of duty and obligation peppered with the scant spice of spontaneous serendipity. If I’ve loved you in my mind’s eye, who’s to deny me my jubilation?

Only me.

Embrace your dreams, for tomorrow you may be dead.