Whatever temperature it is in the room is room temperature

A Vintage fridge keeps things slightly cool.

But mine does not. For as of almost a week ago it is dead. I mean I still have it, but the insides hold at 68°. And rising. It’s where I store the room temperature food.
A new one will be delivered tomorrow. A no-frills version – according to the repairman and three salesman at three stores the new refrigerant is more corrosive than Freon and burns out compressors, and they declared my 8 1/2 year-old fridge to be “A good life span.” And I said “then there’s no reason to buy anything but the cheapest cheap fridge. Since they’re not built to last anyway.” Why pay for the fancy stuff that will keep working even after the compressor renders your refrigerator a room temperature box?

PS, since I have an abandoned refrigerator stationed in my kitchen I guess I have to be on the lookout for roving bands of street urchins who may wish to play inside. Next to the homemade sauerkraut.

Backhanded compliment

H.G. Wells went to the theater with Charles Chaplin. It was an early sound film and Chaplin fidgeted in his seat all the way through it. When it was over Chaplin said, “It was a terrible film.”

“Yes,” said Wells. “But there was talking. And that’s enough for me.”

My own personal favorite backhanded compliment was a letter I received which simply said, “Sometimes I love you.”

 

A short list of things we can’t afford anymore (a poem)

I steal from Richard F Yates, because it’s a habit with me. Everybody got a habit, me, nuns, William Burroughs… only Richard F Yates lives free.

Can’t afford the status quo of War, Big Business Giveaways, Private Prisons, Institutionalized Racism, Unregulated Healthcare, College Loans.
Can’t afford the lack of a Living Wage.
Can’t afford Outsourcing, Offshoring, Free Trade shenanigans.
Can’t afford businesses declaring everyone an independent contractor.
Can’t afford driving a personal car into the ground for someone else to profit.
Can’t afford the shifting of the burden to the bottom.
Can’t afford payday loans.
Can’t afford the sky high rent.
Can’t afford the money so far spent that profited only the very top.
Can’t afford to pick up the tab for those who attend $20,000 a plate fundraisers While you and I may skip meals.
Can’t afford the bailout of the ship that sunk mine. Do I look like a fool’s goldmine?
Can’t afford $7,000 a pill to stay alive.
Can’t afford not to invest in the future.
Can’t afford the status quo. It’s unrealistic. It has no future. It was obsolete when it started. Why should you and I have to pay for it?

 

Legalized foot cream

“Cat Planning Evil” by Richard F. Yates, stolen from same. All artists steal as all cats murder.

A few days ago I went to one of the local marijuanna outlets and bought some cannabis infused ginger cayenne cream.

A year ago I hurt my foot bicycling and it has since been examined x-rayed and pronounced afflicted with neuroma, nerve pain. According to bicycling magazine website, a common bicycling injury.

So I bought cannabis cream.

And I have rubbed it into the small area afflicted. And it seems to be having an effect.

For one thing, my foot now smells like cannabis.

 

*May also be decreasing pain.

“Rowdy” Roddy Piper story:

Piper's finest film

Piper’s finest film

Professional wrestler “Rowdy” Roddy piper came to my high school to speak to my world problems class. He gave a long blustering right wing tirade.

He was there to talk about his expertise vis-a-vis violence in society. He did not come in his work clothes but dressed in jeans and a dress-shirt. On the wall was a signed photo of the teacher’s hero: Ronald Reagan.

He did bring his rasslin’ bluster, somewhat toned down, as he launched into a tirade about how society was too lenient on youth and other crimes. As he worked himself into a boil he finally reached his crescendo with a statement that people should be beaten and shot for petty crimes and hijinks. The room laughed at him. He was taken aback and growled, “You laugh because none of you have ever been shot!” And the laughter exploded. You could barely hear him protest, “If any of you had ever been shot you wouldn’t be laughing.” He had the room rolling in the aisles.

In the center of the room, laughing, was a guy in a leg cast. He had been shot.

After Piper left, the teacher, a friend of Piper, gave a long blustering speech about how we were mean to Rowdy Roddy Piper.

 

I know what you’re saying. Roddy Piper died today. This is a terrible memorial. But I enjoyed the film They Live; just not as much as Hell Comes to Frogtown.

 

Xirt yo’self 

I have a rabbit on each shoulder. I know what you’re thinking: “One is good one is evil.” But you’re wrong. They’re both evil.

rabbits

They are both white rabbits and they get a lot of mileage out of this. There is a certain trust engendered in the white rabbit by society, as people are trained from an early age to follow them wherever they may lead without asking any questions, even if we all end up in a bunker far underground.

It makes me hopping mad!

But I always feel I am running late and that time is running out and I need to hop to it.

And it does nothing for my nerves, these rabbits, hopping up and down on my shoulders, as if every day and night were a rabbit holiday.

Do not even get me started about the bird on my head.