Category: Jim S.

Jim S. the Folderman still hasn’t gotten over his rage.

I’ve never truly been happy.
My mind is a swirl of anger, bitterness, disappointment and hatred. Not for or at a particular person, group of people or even any THING in particular but just an overall permeating, deep RAGE at “stuff.”
Depression forms an almost solid border to hold the rage back and keep it simmering on the back burner. Rarely, the rage pokes its head through but is quickly subdued.
An almost momentary flash of happiness occasionally interrupts this constant emotional battle. Every time, though, an uncontrollable factor breaks the happy-moment and re-heats the rage.
Then, depression sets in.

Jim S. the Folderman experiences white-hot rage…

I’ve known a few moments of momentary satisfaction at a beautiful day or a gorgeous woman. Happy moments like the birth of my children, my wedding day and other things such as that briefly pierce through the shroud of doubt, confusion, melancholoy and… RAGE.
Yes, rage. I know it comes as a deep surprise but I’m a mad motherfucker. Just plain mad at the world. Overall, I’ve learned to live with it and usually, I manage to hold it back long enough to enjoy some happy moments.
Mostly, though, it just embitters me and makes me a jaded, cynical bastard.

It’s time for a speech by Jim S. the Folderman…

Satisfied, I stepped back from the podium. The speech had gone well enough. Well, better than could be expected, considering the ugly circumstances which made it necessary.
It was never easy to personally deliver one’s swansong and I’d done the best I could. Now the rest was in other hands.
At the bottom of the steps, my faithful secretary waited.
“Good speech, sir.” She said, “but not good enough…”
Snapping out of my brooding, I looked up and was greeted by the discharge from her gun.
DAMN! I knew it was coming, but I NEVER thought it would be her!

Jim S. answers the people who wonder why he is so mad…

Why are you so mad?
For some reason, people ask me that all the time.
It could be the steady diet of gansta rap, heavy metal and punk rock. You see; nothing gets done without music and most if it is from those genres.
Nah.
It could be my childhood and the fact that my mother and I were at each other’s throats most of it. I AM a middle child after all.
Definitely not.
It’s the fact that I’m a thinking man and I can’t withstand the day-to-day barrage of dum-dums. It’s more than a mere mortal can take.

Ah, yes. The power of love. Jim S. floats around with it for a bit…

The iceberg came into view around the box. After floating helplessly in the icy water for the last two hours, he’d finally floated around the box to view the gigantic chunk of rock and ice. Due to his numerous injuries, he’d been unable to propel himself around the supply box. Only the icy water that numbed him had kept him from losing consciousness from the pain.
Incredibly, he recognized the beauty of the moment. Sure, only two hours ago, he’d been warm in his bed with his wife.
As he floated over, he came face-to-face with his wife’s decapitated body.

You know, I’ve done this myself, but never had the courage to admit it. Jim S. is more courageous than me…

When we bought the house, there was no storm door on the frame in the back of the house. As a housewarming and Christmas gift, her aunt had given us a gift card just for the purpose. I had some time to do it tomorrow and I had to go buy the door at the Home Depot.
An orange card glued to a cardboard folder would be awfully hard to misplace, wouldn’t it? Not for my wife. She had managed to throw it in the garbage!
That’s the reason I’m rooting through garbage bags instead of shopping for storm doors.

Jim S. the Folderman takes a comment from an introduction and examines it for a bit…

It’s all about the stories. That’s what I heard Laurence say on a recent podcast..
It made me think of a line from a series of stories I used to read by Anne Rice; “The Blood Is The Life.”
I’m not sure WHY I thought of that line, but I did. I started to write a poem based on “It’s about the stories,” but after writing it, I realized that I can’t EVEN write poetry. I’ll leave that to Andrew.
The blood is the life and the stories are the point. A good analogy, if I do say so myself.

Jim S. engages in a little trash-talk with another of the 100 Word Stories authors…

So, as I often do, I’m listening to 100 Word Stories and lo-and-behold, Andrew Ian Dodge, he of the “takeover the internet by being on as many sites and podcasts as humanly possible as long as we’re constrained to 24 hours” philosphy announces that “Cry Freedom” is available on iTunes.
So, working only a few blocks from home, I race home to check it out…. *sigh* no “Cry Freedom” on iTunes. *sigh* no Growing Old Disgracefully at all. Hmm… perhaps it’s a conspiracy to prevent 100 word story-ers from writing and recording a review.
Yup, that’s probably it. A conspiracy!

I’ve read this three times and listened three times three times. Can you explain this one by Jim S. the Folderman to me?

The crime of unnatural acts of perversion was no laughing matter. In fact, it was a very serious accusation and I had no idea how I was going to spin this in my client’s favor.
It would take a minor miracle to convince anyone that he had even meant well, much less that he was innocent. However, since it was my duty and I was now forced to make a speech in front of the space station’s inhabitants, I’d do the best I could.
Now, if I could just get the llama out of the briefing room, I’d get started.

Jim S. the Folderman returns!

“He’s a very articulate black man”
A series of billboards with that phrase were situated throughout Rhode Island a while ago. The word “black” was crossed-out with a big red X, so that it really read, “He’s a very articulate man.”
These billboards left quite the impression on me because the statement makes perfect sense. The irritating habit of the media and most individuals is to use the first phrase and think that it matters.
Read both phrases and tell me honestly that the first one is any more relevant to a conversation than the other.
You would be wrong.