Thursday, November 3, 2011
Put on some Coltrane, Derail your own train
I told Mark Twain to shut up. Actually, I told him to shut the hell up because he refuses to stop following me around insisting the report of his death is an exaggeration.
Try looking in a mirror, Sam.
I've received some emails wondering where I've been. That's where Twain comes in. He's the goofball who said “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”
That's more or less why I've been keeping quiet. I lost my footing and couldn't write without feeling self conscious. I thought, why not just stay quiet for a while? What's the harm in that?
My mistake was not telling you guys before I decided to be quiet. Sorry about that. I hate to be a cause for concern.
To catch you up and to resolve some old cliffhangers, here's what I've been doing while I haven't been online.
For starters, I never made it to Occupy Atlanta before the mayor closed it down (note: the protests are still happening). I have indeed settled for Occupy the Master Bedroom and I'm having some serious impact on things. You saw that Bank of America is getting rid of their absurd $5 ATM fee, right? You're welcome.
The downside is that MathMan is becoming increasingly unhappy with my encampment. Sounding more like a big city mayor than a calculus teacher, he insists I move out of my corner so that it can be vacuumed and fumigated. His demands also include that I put the comforter back on the bed. I caught him trying to dismantle my makeshift tent over the weekend, but when I called for reinforcements from the Pussies for Peace, he backed off. Fascist.
Good news! The fleacapades are over. I credit my increased attachment to the vacuum cleaner, the flea meds and the cold weather. Hey, here's something creepy a little too late for Halloween. I emptied the bagless vacuum canister into a trash bag, closed it tightly and deposited it in the garage. Some time later, I was in the garage and I heard faint sounds like bubble wrap or something. I nudged the bag with my toe and the sound grew louder. Those fleas for bouncing around in the garbage bag!
Of course I couldn't resist nudging it with my toe every time I went to the garage.
A different kind of change - I've actually been hanging out with a friend. Listen, y'all there's no need to point out that he might be imaginary.
And finally, in case I needed another useless epiphany there's this: The cats, as it turns out, aren't actually felines at all. They're honey badgers.
What's new with you, people of the internets?