GIRDED LOINS

Tomorrow my work week starts. Which requires me to be a good Christian to a bunch of old buggers with whom I would not gladly "socialize" at any other time. As well as having to face mediocre suburban kibble because that is the only food available in the wastelands beyond civilization (Marin County). It's a daunting prospect. And did I already indicate that I am a reasonably well-read and well-spoken highly opinionated screaming liberal? So in that environment I am virtually an outer space alien.


"Boy, talk normal! We's Americans here!"


Yeah, um. Have you unwashed savages considered learning English? It's highly recommended.

Avoid all Dutch, Cantonese, German, Yiddish, and Latin words. The speakers of hick-spritch don't understand those. No Monty Python references either. Perhaps a few references from The Big Lebowski, or, remarkably, Spinal Tap. Some of them dig that.

If I carried my cell-phone with me I'd have the nearest rabies shot clinic on speed-dial.

Today I shall eat well. I must fortify myself.

Something with juicy meat, garlic, chilies.

The lunch choices at suburban convenience stores are not known for animal protein or real vegetable matter, and the only salad ingredients available to me are what's inside my bottle of hot sauce in the refrigerator at work. I shall not have the pleasant company of any of my stuffed animals there -- the turkey vulture would insist that I harvest the fatty thighs of at least one of the senile old fossils to feed him, and the head sheep would wish to speak of grass-suckies and potato ale -- and conversational gambits beyond worshipful mention of Trump and sportsteams are severely limited. "Have you washed today? Good!" "Please do not mention your penis again, you old f&*5er, there are ladies present!"

[A certain bald degenerate is very proud of his penis. Shut. Up!]


Much hot tea, good pipe tobacco. Some chocolate. Occasional visits by civilized people.
Fussing with old wood, plus tar, soot, and mud. Plus cookies.


Being a "good Christian" is not something that comes easy to me. I am by nature a bad tempered and intolerant Dutchman, who would rather impose decent standards on the heathen with force. It is only by rigorous self control that I do not burn down the heretical churches and tribal longhouses of the gibberant Trumpites out in the bush of Northern California. Well, that and a fear of the diseases they carry as well as parasites.

And I despise flabby tattooed freaks in cargo shorts.


So. Today I shall eat well.



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