Saturday, August 21, 2004

SCREW the Dream Team!

I, for one, am GLAD the United States "Dream Team" is faltering in the Olympics. American athletes can be a TRUE EMBARRASSMENT. From opening ceremony swagger, to showboat antics in the 100-meter dash qualifying, to putting gold medals in their mouths like pacifiers while the national anthem plays, they just show no class. You know who I'm talking about, Justin Gatlin. You know who I'm talking about, Allen Iverson. You think I don't know you read my blog? Well, take it from me: shape up. True Olympians do it with Humility. I oughta get a bumper sticker made up that says that same exact expression, and send it to you clowns.

Physical therapy's going well. I expect to be using my walker by the end of next week.

Friday, August 13, 2004

I thought I respected Robert; I guess I do not.

It so arose that I needed to mail a package via Registered Mail today (Registered mail is a signature confirmation service offered by the US Post Office). It does not concern you what the nature of my package was.

I had boxed the item securely in corrugate and taped it closed. I had also filled out all relevant Registered Mail paperwork. When my turn at the PO came, I wheeled to the counter and handed the parcel to Robert, a generally sensible and genial clerk. He, knowing his way around the regulations, immediately pointed out that non-porous clear tape is not allowed on Registered Mail packages (one must use paper tape so that tamper-evident postmarks can be stamped about the perimeter of the thing). I could see the reason in this and asked him for a length of said paper tape, which clerk Darryl had supplied me with on occasions past. He squarely refused to supply me with the tape, which I could clearly see sitting on a shelf behind him. He even went so far as to summon the postmaster, an obese woman with horribly splayed tuberous breasts, to confirm his assertion that the post office does not supply this sort of tape to its customers, "no matter what [I had] experienced in the past."

Darryl, whose counter was open, called me over and handed me a length of the contested tape. Robert, who could not show a regular customer this simple act of humanity, marched back and forth like an indignant child whose balls had been bitten off. He then pussied off into the recesses of the building to re-summon the postmaster, who came out and reprimanded Darryl. There was not a good humor about any of this; these dismantled crotches were genuinely indignant over the issue of 18" of tape.

Long story short, the package went out, and from now on I will post my parcels between 12 and 1, when I know Robert to be out on the loading dock. Screw you, Robert.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Back in the Saddle!

Well, I'm back from physical therapy, but I'm in a wheelchair for the time being so Nice Pete has agreed to hang around and help me with little things. In return I have given him a small allowance, of which he spends 100% on chickens. He sits at the dinner table with a carving knife, meticulously dissecting them, hour after hour, before burying the parts in the yard. I want to alert him to the wastefulness of this behavior, but it's his money, and it is probably good for the soil.

Doc Andretti says I should be walking with crutches pretty soon, so as soon as I can get around I will continue documenting my lawsuit against the post office, the police department, and Ray's party. I may be setting a new precedent here in suing a party, kind of exciting.