NAMELESS CANADIAN

When I returned home she was in her room reading. She asked, as I passed by her doorway, if I knew anything about futures trading. Nope. "I'm reading this book about it, and somebody just got murdered." Oh. While I was in the kitchen putting on the kettle, she hollered "now there's a second dead person". It doesn't sound, to me, that there's much future there.
I mean, neither stiff will have much of one.

It also sounds like futures trading may not be what that book is really about.

Although it may be all about Wall Street. Accurately so.

People get whacked there all the time.


Yesterday after coming home I got to hear about the church where she, a complete atheist, volunteers. Good cause and all that, defective people, and dead mice, very small corpses.
I hope she mentions all that to her brothers the next time there's a family luncheon.
I'm sure they'll love it. "See, our little sister has a rich full life, so lucky!"

I myself have never been to any of those get-togethers, but I believe that all of her siblings are engineers, so I'm guessing everyone is somewhere on the spectrum. As are several people with whom I deal at work, but those folks are almost all from the era when no one actually knew what a spectrum was. And they all used to have an onion tied to their belt.
As was the style at the time.

One of them passed away recently. So he wasn't there today.
Baruch dayan ha emes. A very decent fellow.
Still had all of his marbles.

All in all it was a remarkably peaceful day, no not because the decendent was justifiably absent. The bald degenerate who lost most of his marbles decades ago wasn't there. The insane Irish Turmpite wasn't there. The retired member of the judicial branch who always complains in a strident whiney tone wasn't there. John who takes much too long to pee right when I need to kick him out (I always harangue him about his narrow urethra, slow bladder, and benign prostate enlargement), the coke-snorting fiend, the snooty religious nut, and the crusty old New York rightwinger weren't there. Just a smoothpated real-estate broker, and a former restaurant supplier long since retired. So the Punjabi troublemaker had no one to argue with, and didn't say much.

I'm guessing they didn't want to watch the losingest team in sports.
Richard said to me that one must support the home team.
Knowing full well that I would sneer at that.
Bah humbug, y'all, bah humbug.



Started off the day at work smoking a nicely sized sandblast Canadian filled with Cornell & Diehl tobacco. The stamping has worn to the point that it's illegible, darn well invisible. English made, old piece, damned fine smoker. Had it restemmed recently.
It's a very handsome pipe. Something an engineer would love.
Looks practical and no nonsense. Sober proportions.
Something a responsible man would own.



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