When Daylight Savings Time kicks in, I have one less hour to come up with a story for the day.
I looked back over the years, and the stories on the short days tend to really suck.
On the other hand, when Daylight Saving Time is over, I have an extra hour to write a story.
And those stories kinda sucked, too.
In fact, a lot of my stories really suck.
But the great thing about it is, there’s thousands of them. And even if one percent are good, that’s still dozens of good stories.
And that’s fine by me.
Tag: commentary
Idioms
I told a blind woman that she was easy on the eyes.
She tried to slap me. And missed. Because she’s blind.
I told a man with no legs to quit dragging his feet and get the job done.
Damn, his motorized wheelchair was fast.
I had to run up a flight of stairs to get away from him.
I told a mute person that they were like music to my ears.
But they couldn’t hear me.
Still, they could read my lips.
And they punched me in the face.
The guy without legs ran me over with his wheelchair.
N
I sipped my coffee and read the gossip pages:
Mindy broke up with Max.
Marty broke up with Mary.
Melissa broke up with Mark.
Madison broke up with Milton.
Sure enough, everyone’s name began with an M. And they all broke up.
I looked at yesterday’s gossip pages.
Sure enough, everybody’s name began with L.
I couldn’t look up the gossip pages from the day before. Those were already recycled.
Will everyone in the gossip pages tomorrow have a name that begins with N?
What happens when we get to Z?
“Nate,” said Nancy. “We need to talk.”
Tomorrow, dear.
Kitchen Zone
My kitchen is the fucking Twilight Zone right now.
I’ve got an entire cupboard full of Tupperware, but none of the lids fit any of the containers.
Same thing with the pots and pans. The lids are either too big, too small, or the wrong shape.
Seriously, who the fuck wants a square pan? I have a square lid here, and no pan that matches it.
Maybe some kitchens are like clothes dryers. Left socks vanish from the dryer, pots and containers wormhole out of kitchens.
This is why you should use child safety locks.
And eat out at restaurants.
Flight Insurance
I need to fly somewhere.
What? Do I want insurance?
Well, let me take a look.
One insurance plan offers insurance that pays benefits if you die on an airplane.
Another insurance plan offers insurance that pays benefits if you die in a terrorist attack on an airplane.
The second plan costs more, despite the fact that the first plan overlaps the terms of second plan.
Why do people buy the second?
Because they’re afraid? And stupid?
But I’m going to buy it anyway.
Because I could do this through GoToMeeting.
Instead of flying there.
But I’m afraid. And stupid.
The Empties
Every container full of stuff they send here, we have to ship back so they can send us more stuff.
Some, we fill with trash for recycling.
Others, we put coal or other raw materials.
And with the rest of the empties?
They call it human trafficking.
Fifty to a container.
Thousands of containers on a ship.
Sex slaves?
Organ donors?
Cheap labor?
No. Hardly.
They feed them to the Trakha.
It’s part of the peace treaty.
They give up technology. Chemical formulas.
And what do they do with it?
Make stuff. To sell to us.
Just for the empties.
Free Brochures
When I was growing up, you could order free government brochures on all kinds of subjects.
Running a business. Nutrition. Car repair.
You name it, they had it.
All you had to do was write to Pueblo, Colorado, and they’d mail them. Free.
These days, you can download them from a website.
So, I did. And I read them all.
Thanks to the government, I am now 17 trillion dollars in debt, involved in two wars and countless other international disputes, and my home is constantly invaded by illegal aliens.
But, hey: I can change the oil in my car.
Gysin
Brion Gysin told everyone at the Beat Hotel that he could make William Burroughs vanish.
He rigged up a frame with cords, and he placed Burroughs behind it. Then he projected a photo of Burroughs on to Burroughs. The cords blocked some of the projection.
Gysin rolled the focus on the projection for a few minutes, which was hypnotic to the hotel residents.
Burroughs slipped away from his seat and left the room. It looks like he had disappeared.
The audience was stunned. Gysin smiled.
But Burroughs was annoyed. Applauding his disappearance?
He packed his things and left the hotel.
Car alarm
I didn’t get much sleep.
A car alarm was going off in the parking garage.
I hate it when people let their alarms go.
Maybe someone’s out messing with people’s wheels again?
The alarm didn’t stop for ten minutes.
I’d better go see. Someone might be messing with my truck.
So, I put on some shorts and a shirt, and I picked up my shotgun.
Out in the parking garage,I looked for the source of the noise.
Yep. That truck over there. Blinking tail lights, too.
Wait. It’s my truck.
I clicked the remote and the alarm shut off.
It’s Monday again
It’s Monday again.
Now Tuesday. Then Wednesday.
And Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.
And it’s Monday again.
Over and over. And over.
Days, weeks, months, and years.
And years.
And then? What?
Retirement? A pat on the back for a job well done?
What then?
Golf? Shuffleboard? A garden?
Or just… nothing. No more?
And it’s Monday again.
Kids? Grandkids? And great grandkids?
Maybe they’ll name one after you?
And their kids will do the same for them?
Over and over, until you’re not even your own name anymore.
And it’s Monday again.
And it’s Monday again.
And it’s Monday again.