The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln
I know what you're thinking.
You don't care that I've posted another off-the-cuff 100 word story instead of something about WKRP's nerdly newsman.
You want to know what happened next with Abraham Lincoln, don't you?
Well, wait no longer... her's another chapter in the Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln!
Abraham rubbed the ointment on his thighs and calves for a week. Soon, he was his old, tall self again.
But not for long.
The trouble started when he began grazing a few chandeliers. Then, he'd bump his head on archways.
Finally, he had to duck to keep from braining himself on the ceiling.
"I have exchanged one Hell for another!" shouted Abraham on his high, stilt-like legs. "This is agony!"
"Yes, but they reach the ground now, right?" said Mary Todd.
Abraham sighed. At least he could scrape the butter-pats off of the ceiling that Tad kept flicking there.
If you're wondering where Mustard Man went, don't worry. He'll be back tomorrow.
Greedy and Cheap
I was reminded of yet another way the owner is greedy and cheap.
All of the chaturbate computers were replaced with bottom-of-the-line Dells with their most basic and small flat-panel monitors. If you're thinking this was a kind of extravagance, well, I'm well familiar with the Holy Principle of TCO.
In the end it's just a simple way of standardizing the boxes on the floor to try to eliminate any "custom" repair costs. The flat-panels pinch every penny for energy costs and have a bad habit of slipping into 60hz eye-wrenching mode on their own.
If the old systems weren't dumped in a charitable move for a write-off of their near-full purchase price, call me Missy Rivers.
The basic non-ergonomic keyboards are with every system, and they're paired with the cheapest mice they've got.
Standard mice. Non-optical.
Now, it's only a few bucks a mouse to go optical for a large order, but by squeezing those dollars it's now left to the employees to do the usual scrape-and-wipe of the systems.
No mousepads, of course. Sure, you can get them free anywhere, and that's what they probably figured. Go get your own mousepad.
Just like they nudge people into wanting to get their own chairs when their spines scream out in agony at the end of the day from Torquemada's hand-me-downs on the floor.
Once again, I pull out my insurance card, stare at it for a while, and slip it back into my jasminelive wallet.
I'll be up tomorrow, once more into the fray.
Astrodome
Apparently, the Astrodome isn't good enough for that fat bastard Bud Adams, but it's good enough for twenty-four thousand refugees.
Go figure.
Know what? I think it's a lousy idea. After all, there's plans on the books to turn it into an interior riverwalk hotel - can't delay that, you know. We're so desperate for even more excess hotel capacity in this town.
Instead, the Astrodome should be the home of the New Orleans Saints until the Superdome is up and running again. Then we could have a Texans game and a Saints game right next to each other.
How often have there been TWO NFL GAMES side-by-side? Then we could hold the fundraising concerts before and after both games, too.
Not New York.
Not Los Angeles.
Not Chicago.
Here. In Houston.
Man, that would be freaking awesome.
And it will never happen.
There's also word that HISD is preparing to handle a huge number of additional students as a result of New Orleans schools being closed or destroyed.
Bourbon Street
I just bid on a touristy Bourbon Street sign on EBay.
That got me to wondering how long before the real ones start showing up there?
If I were a looter, I'd be hacksawing Bourbon and Canal street signs, swiping fixtures from famous bars and such for blackmarket auction sites.
But, hey - some people are stupid and just grab up candy bars, medicine, beverages, diapers, Jasmin live coupons and stuff like that.
Short-sighted fools.
Batting One Thousand
All this talk about the 1,000th execution in the United States has me kind of depressed.
Virginia had a shot at it, but Warner backed out.
South Carolina's next up to bat.
Where's Texas? Why aren't we in the running for the 1,000th execution?
Whenever folks talk about the Death Penalty in America is Texas this and Texas that Texas Texas Texas.
Not now, though. It's all Virginia and South Carolina and crap.
Can't we fast-track some low-life in Huntsville to his date with the needle? What about that jerk who got away from the Harric Country lockup? Yes? No? How about Tony Ford? It's not like he's busy doing Christmas, Hannukha, or Kwanza shopping, you know.
Why not just ice him now? I mean, McRib is back, who knows how long it will last, and Tony gets a last meal, right?
Come on, Governor Goodhair, let's speed things up! Please? No?
I am so disappointed in my state.
Morning adventures
I suppose I should share this morning's adventure with METRO.
The 9 was right on time, meaning that all it took to miss connecting with the 102 was hesitating at the light on Pierce to make the right turn.
The Dangertrain southbound provided blocking so I could race across piece up Main to the corner where the 102 was.
Driver never waits. Looked back and saw a Dangertrain coming Northbound that I could catch.
Excellent. Sprint along Main, across Main, on to Dangertain while watching 102 race along Travis.
Lights will slow them down. No problem.
Yeah, I have that look in my eyes when this shit goes through my head. It's a look that breaks mirrors, scares , and makes the zoo monkeys stop flinging their shit for a few seconds before shrieking and leaping for the trees.
It's the look that makes waiters and barmaids grateful that they walk away with their lives, despite not getting a tip. It's the "I've burned down five churches this morning after drowning a thousand in the baptismal fonts, now where are my goddamned French Fries?" look.
Snap out of it! Preston! I get to Preston, bolt out the door and race for the 102 stop along Travis.
Hrm... you know, I've been meaning to try out St. Pete's Flying Marlin... maybe instead of Cabo's or Mia Bella tonight-
STOP BRAIN! GO FEET! Not time for food! Run, Forrest! Run!
102 is already there FUCK! and the light's holding the, got to run across street to corner.
Drive rcloses door, I'm waving my hands and...
Amazing. He opens them. Never did that before for anyone when I've been on the early 102.
I guess the large workbag is recognizable. I thank him profusely for hesitating, I know he's late. He's always late, despite being way early from my perspective.
And, that's how I get my morning exercise. Maybe I should hold METROcize classes?
Not only has racing from bus to train to bus burned the calories, but losing thirty pounds has made the sprinting much, much easier. I find that I still have wind when I huff and heave in my seat instead of losing steam well before catching the bus.