I’ve stopped drinking again…

…but I’m still talking to the IRS and it’s just as enjoyable as it had traditionally been after a bottle Jäger at 8am.

This is a serious statement, outside of the convoluted, phantom alcoholism. The IRS hotline folks are my friends…my only friends? Perhaps, but certainly my best, most loyal, and multifaceted, disparate and desperate friends…at least.

Should we as a species get over our viewing the IRS as a purely evil, painful entity — which it is, but if we could stop viewing it as such — we would come to appreciate the quarks and crazies of a myriad of colorful characters that exist nowhere else in fact and seldom in fiction.

Following this, the industry of humanity would quite obviously construct a comedic and pointless documentary made heartwarming only by inappropriately placing sappy music with black-and-white [...]

Did I ever tell you about…

I announce today, on the eve of nothing in particular, while we stand at the cusp of nothing more than a few minutes from now, the dawn of a new triumvirate. No figurative language or symbolism here, my friends, I speak directly of that governmental force, a three wheeled horse. But! and of course, this is a triumvirate like none have seen before. Very Hollywood…very Hollywood…well, cinematically anyway…not politically or philosophically. The members are quite clear, at least in fiction. Myself, of course, teamed with none other than James Traficant and William F. Buckley, together we will take the tangible world by absolute storm.

I know nothing of the eventual outcome, the end product as it were, but I drool simply pondering the events that journey our [...]

Mythological amnesiac, woodworked dilettante, and/or hapless banker found upon a lost highway. No beginning and no end, you know neither where it was you left nor where it is you’re going, yet feel the pressured approach of both, the time between, the time beyond, and the absence elsewhere of an unlisted dimension. Sleeping off the yellow sweat, you find yourself recovering from a bout with Malaria, and her little cousin Scarlet Fever, lucky enough to have forced the knives from their hands and thrown them to the speeding asphalt below, reeling and relishing in remorse and regret, wishing things would have worked out differently between the three of you. Like Allah’s oil, you’ve been chain-smoking your last cigarette for a period of time…better off not thought about. Veiled in the shifting sands of static, your radio [...]

Today, for some reason, I had to wear a shirt. This caused great concern initially, but eventually I picked one of the many that littered the floor. I would have been squarely knocked on my ass if the wall hadn’t been directly behind me. The chosen one smelled exactly like Walnutport. But this shirt lives 2 – 3 hours away from there, has certainly not visited recently and, to the best of my recollection, has never felt the grey sun of Walnutport on its grey cotton.

Let me explain why this is important…by way of an olfactory adventure. It is the same type of alarm that causes one to ask “Why does my hand smell like my ass?!” even in mixed company.

This particular stink is the stink of your family gathered for the holidays…true heart-felt love amongst kin…but it smells…unavoidably. [...]