Archive for November, 2017


Wednesday, November 22nd, 2017

It’s the damndest thing. WHY should people running art and craft supply stores be treated any differently than people running any other kind of store. I mean, even the clerks behind liquor store counters aren’t burdened with the life histories of their customers, even when the customers are drunk.

Yet since the day I opened my shop doors, many of the people who’ve come in my door stop at the counter and begin telling me all of their woes. They tell me at great length about their medical problems, their financial losses, their children, their parents, they come and and start unburdening themselves as if I wanted to hear their tales of unhappiness and woe.

Not all of those who choose to confide in their sorrows do this. A few are upbeat and tell me of the fun they have crafting different things. One guy has been in twice with some home-made wood carving tools that are actually very nicely done. I bought them all from him, so he returned with a box full of huge vintage plastic airplane models, still new in the box, which he sold me at a very fair price. All this while, of course, he’s telling me about all the stuff he does. But that’s okay.

It’s the sympathy seekers, the lonely people who’ve been through hard times and want someone to commiserate with them, who seem the most likely to spontaneously verbalize their woes to me at the very sight of me. It’s really become a thing, anymore I half expect it from people. So I listen and nod and express my understanding, and eventually they wind down and leave, usually looking happier than when they came in, though not always. Sometimes they work themselves into a worse state or at least leave feeling unfulfilled. I can tell by their expressions if nothing else.

There is this one family that’s really a hoot. The wife is a really big woman. Not just very much overweight but also over six feet tall. Her husband is a dwarf, and they have a little dwarf daughter, six years old, who’s the size of a 3 year old. When they first came in I had a hard time keeping a straight face while talking to the husband, not just because of his body shape but because his eyes are of different size and shape. They’ve been in the shop 3 times now and I’m used to seeing him now, and by golly, these people have really taken a liking to me. Like I said, they’re a hoot because the little girl plainly thinks I’m Mr. Wonderful, and keeps putting on a show for me running around the store, while the wife dominates the dwarf guy, and he constantly asserts his manliness. There’s an almost pedophilic aroma about the relationship between that great big woman and that little male, but it’s a legal one, so what the hell.

Today the fat little bastard who’s been harassing me was back hovering around my doorway with an idiot teenage follower and I’d had enough, and went out, got right up in their faces and threatened the crap out of them. I guess that’s what it took, letting those two shits know that I’m not the least afraid of them and making it clear that they’d better stop screwing with me, because they took a wide berth of my shop and the whole area for the rest of the day.

I’ve had other shops in years past, a gift shop, a head shop, an antique store, plus two autobody shops, and never had to put up with anything like I have with this one. It’s because this town is special in it’s own unfortunate way. It’s crawling with meth and heroin addicts, along with homeless vagrants and lots of poor retired people. I really did pick a hell of a place to open a store of any kind, but you know what? Right across the street a crew is building a huge Dollar General store that has to be costing many millions of $$. I see no way they’ll ever pull a profit out of that expense but I’m really hoping they know something I don’t. This area could be prosperous if it weren’t for the entrenched human blight.


Saturday, November 18th, 2017

My new shop is proving to be a whole new exercise in patience, something I have loads of as long as humans aren’t involved. Ah, but they are, young ones, teenagers.

There’s a group of 5 of them who zip back and forth along the cement walkway in front of the string of shops that I’ve rented into, who go very fast, yelling and screaming every time they pass my open shop door. The other day I went out tried talking to them nicely to see if they might find it in their black little hearts to knock that crap off, and they spent the last half hour of that day focusing all their efforts directly in front of my shop.

I ignored them and waited to see if they’d come back the next day, which was yesterday, and they didn’t. But this morning, a Saturday with no school to render them somewhat harmless, there they were again. Only 3 of the 5 this time, so I went out and told them to leave or I’d call the sheriff. I heard one of them say “Fuck you” to me as he was leaving, but they did leave. About 10 minutes after my regular closing time today, here comes the fat one, the little pig on a scooter, going back and forth in front of my door.

I already had him pegged as the leader of these kids, and was pleased to see that none of them were with him. I knew he was doing this to see if I’d really call the sheriff, but what he didn’t realize was that I was overdue to close up the shop after finishing up with my last customer. So while he was outside being a jackass, I was busy cleaning out the register, picking up my thermos and jacket, and shutting off the lights.

Just as he was making another approach on his scooter, there I was outside the door, locking it. I didn’t even bother to look at him, I just got in my car and drove away and left him standing there like the little idiot he is. How mean of me to take all his fun away like that, huh?

That fat bastard is in bully training, looking for victims, and thinks that old people are good targets. He reminds me exactly of my neighbor Brian, the guy who kept threatening to kill me every time he got drunk enough. I never met a bully who wasn’t a coward and I never will.


Saturday, November 11th, 2017

As long as we continue to stay alive, years continue to pass for us and our bodies grow old. Personally, I never considered the passage of time to have anything to do with my worth as a person because my mind continues to stay sharp, my health good and my general condition to be as good as many and better than most.

It’s obvious, now that I’m well into old age, that most people see me as a peripheral sort of presence, someone not to be taken into consideration too seriously. After all, old people don’t live very long, generally, they’re not up and coming, they’ve shot their wad, run their race, and are now on the back burner of life. And so forth. Old people just don’t matter much.

What was never obvious to me until this afternoon and evening is that even old people consider other old people to be unimportant and peripheral.

Two months ago I decided that it was true, that if we’re not busy living, we’re busy dying. I was focused on trying to make sure I had enough money to outlast me, and was being very careful of what I spent, when it came to me that what I was doing was being busy dying. So I decided to DO something, and after looking around at our little group of communities, I settled on opening an Art and Craft supply store, for the simple reason that there was none here.

Six weeks later, after strenuous and concentrated effort, the store was ready to open, and now, two weeks after opening, I was invited to and attended the local Art Association meeting. But before I get into that, I want to mention that almost everyone who’s come into my new shop expressed gladness, sometimes considerable gladness, that the valley finally had a well stocked art supply store.

Okay, so the meeting was to start at 4:30 this afternoon and I arrived about 5 minutes early, only to find everyone sitting in a circle and discussing the election of new club officers. I was totally ignored, even by the person who’d invited me there, and stood there like a tree stump until finally one of the people I knew got up, welcomed me to the meeting and introduced me as the owner of the new store.

These people all felt very important, being members of the Valley Art Association and all, and no doubt most of them see themselves as really good artists. The home where all this took place is a big, expensive house. There was quite a bit of artwork on the walls, and most of it was awkward and amateurish with some of it looking like Grandma Moses doing Paint By Numbers. I was sincerely unimpressed and that’s only fair, since most of them were doing their very best to express their sincere unimpression of me. Not one of them asked me if I did any sort of art or craft. Not one. Only a few of them out of about 20 people even spoke to me.

I went to this little soiree not knowing how it would go but not expecting much, which is a good thing. I did it because for my shop, it was the smart thing to do, politically. I of course handed over the money for a membership in this exercise in organized snobbery, and with any luck I’ll never attend another meeting unless there’s something in it for me, because every one of them is a phony.

I can see past age. I give equal respect to children and the aged, both are valid humans until they prove otherwise. Of course, I give the same respect to birds and squirrels as I do people and anything else exhibiting sentience. This doesn’t make me superior to those who don’t, it makes me luckier.

And now, I would like to quote Spiro Agnew, one of our former corrupt Vice Presidents, who so very aptly said THIS: “A spirit of national masochism prevails, encouraged by an effete core of impudent snobs who characterize themselves as intellectuals.” A truth that will prevail beyond time itself.


Sunday, November 5th, 2017

If you attend an Islamic “church”, aka mosque, regardless of which sect you belong to, someone of another Islamic sect may decided to blow up your church and everyone in it. Or shoot everyone, or just go in with a bunch of guys with knives and stab and behead everyone.

If you attend a Christian church, aka temple, regardless of which sect you belong to, someone of another Christian sect may decide to go in and shoot everyone dead.

In Texas today, an Irishman did just that to the members of a Baptist church. I’ll assume the Irishman was a Catholic and out to rid the planet of those filthy apostates. Of course, he could also have been just another Left Winger with a bunch of guns who wants to convince the rest of us that guns are bad instead of insane assholes like himself. It is a major push of the Left to take away our guns, and has been long before Mickey Mouse began committing bestial acts with Pluto. Or was that just an ugly rumor? Anyway, they do, they hate the Second Amendment and want desperately to disarm us so we can’t fight back when they go to take over our country… in their dreams.

BUT TO ME the bottom line in all these church slaughters and mosque slaughters is that if you’re not superstitious and don’t subscribe to worshiping spirits and believing that dead people come back to life and stuff like that, then your odds of living a long life are not only considerably improved over the Devout, but you also save tons of money otherwise given out in tithes and paid for in travel costs. Oh yeah, and in hospital and funeral expenses.