Non Fiction – Page 12

Idiot Ian the Tow Truck Schmuck

My car took a shit on me 2 hours (and just short of the State Line) from My Home Office. At first it was no Big Deal as I just called up My Auto Insurance Company’s Road Side Assistance for a helping hand. They sent a Tow Truck Driver over who jumped the car which came alive in an instant, and my Wife and I went on our way.

One exist down the road the Car absolutely shit the bed. Lights didn’t work neither did the gauges as it was apparent that the Alternator had up and Died. We pulled over on an industrial side road, and set up a Tow for the next morning as it was 8:30 pm on a Sunday in The Southern Country.

The following Morning We had decided to have the Car towed to a near by shop where it broke down since towing it to our usual mechanic shop would cost around $300. My Wife called up the Auto Insurance Company, and gave them the new tow info. They said that they would dispatch a Driver, and that if he had any questions that he would contact us. And boy did he.

The Tow Truck Driver was named Ian, and over the course of 4 or 5 phone calls Ian couldn’t follow a single direction my Wife gave him. Now for those wondering I have no idea why he wasn’t using GPS. He finally admitted once again that he was STILL on the WRONG Road, and that he’d call back if he couldn’t get himself turned around. We finally got a text confirmation from Ian that he had dropped the Car off at the specified Mechanic Shop.

After a while We got curious as to why we hadn’t heard from the Mechanic yet so being pro active We called Him. What he said blew my fucking mind. The Car in spite of Ian’s fucking text WASN’T THERE. Affectively my Car was now lost in some shit town 2 hours away across state lines.

We immediately called our Insurance company who called the Tow company (as the said Tow company like all others was contracted with my Insurance company) to find out what the hell happened.

What had happened was this. The Mechanic we were using had 5 separate locations in the area all called Timber Auto, AND the one We had our Car Towed to (WHICH was a recommendation from our Insurance Company) had been sold. The new owners were called Martinez Mechanic Shop.

NOW Ian the Asshole Tow Truck Driver could have called his Dispatcher, The Insurance Company OR Us to inquire what was going on because obviously theres something wrong. Ian in his infinite idiocy CALLED NO ONE and just dumped my Car there no if ands or buts.

The Insurance Company arranged for Asinine Ian to go fix his fuck up by retrieving my Car from where he left it and tow it to the actual Mechanic we were using. AGAIN after a couple of hours We again hadn’t heard shit from the Mechanic so I called him once again.

The Mechanic said he hadn’t had any Tow Truck Driver’s check in with him, but he would go eye ball his lot just to make sure since things were already going shitty. He got back on the phone and informed me my car WAS THERE, BUT Ian hadn’t checked in with the Mechanic opting again to just dump my car and fucking leave.

This pissed me off because until I heard from the Mechanic that the car was there (obviously I didn’t give a flying fuck about the cocksucking Tow Company who employed Ian the Jackass) it was still Missing. The Mechanic coped a attitude because Ian didn’t check in raised a HUGE concern for the Mechanic as far as Liability and the Law is concerned.

I took a minute to remind the Mechanic that I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IAN THE HUMAN ACCIDENT and as the owner of the Car in question I’m the most pissed of fucking all. We had been working on this Tow starting at 7:40 am and it was 1:15 pm before my Car made it to the correct Mechanic due to the Stupidity of the Tow Truck Schmuck Ian the Inane.

Still craving the idea of caving Ian’s idiotic shit filled skull in with a Ball Peen Hammer, I decided to lodge a complaint with my Insurance company since this shit was completely FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE.

I talked to a very polite and apologetic young man who helped me file my complaint, and then he went above and beyond. He was so absolutely taken aback by what he had heard that he was calling the Tow Company Directly to inquire to as what the fuck was going on with their dips hit driver. I sat on hold while he called, and the Tow Company tried to pin the whole shit show on the address bullshit to which I pointed out that Ian should have called someone over the confusion instead of just dropping my car and fucking off like a Dick.

In the end everything worked out, but what a Shitnado to have to deal with especially after the Double Emergencies of the Day before, and those are to stories for another time and another post so…

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Marijuana & My Mother Do a Complete 180

I remember when California passed The Compassionate Use Act in 1996 (becoming the 1st State to legalize Medical Marijuana) my friends and I were floored. Until now our Pot Smokings greatest aspirations were to save up enough money to make the Pot Head Pilgrimage across the Ocean to the Netherlands. The destination being the Legendary City of Marijuana known as Amsterdam. The Mystical Metropolis where Weed was sold and smoked without legal or social persecution as No One Gave a Shit (a fucking Utopia as far as my Friends were concerned).

And now there it was the State of California a Pot Smokers Beacon of Hope, but it was a “So Close Yet So Far” Scenario for my Friends and I unfortunately. See while California legalized Medical Marijuana (which illuminated a lot of Foreign travel bullshit making it much easier to access than Amsterdam) you had to be a Legal Resident with a Doctor’s Prescription Card to reap the benefits of Medical Marijuana Legally.

So California felt as fucking far away as Andsterdajm as far as I was concerned. Thankfully for me over the past 22 years 29 states have Legalized (Medical OR Recreational) Marijuana use by persons over the age of 21.

When I was growing up I started smoking Weed around 15-16 years old and have continued to this very day. My Mom was the fucking antithesis of Ronnie Regan’s bullshit War On Drugs that labeled Marijuana a Gate Way Drug (Which has been proven to be false as Alcohol is the actual 1st intoxicant Teens try so FUCK OFF ALCHOL.

Anyway the point being my Mother was disgusted and appalled by anyone, (let alone her Son) using Marijuana, and spent years battling in vain to get me to quite smoking weed. She used the old school smell check when I would get home starting in High School in an attempt to detect the smell of Weed. The problem was my Mother had (and still doesn’t really) know what the fuck Weed smells like. This led to countless unfounded accusations because she mistook Incense, Petrulli Oil, Cloves, Cigarillo’s, Certain Cologne, and camp fire smoke just to name a few. In the end she caught me a few times when I was definitely Stoned, but only once did she find Weed. One evening She ran through my jacket pockets, and removed a fat ass Dime Bag yet never mentioned it to me ironically as it were.

. At the same time on the other side of the Cannabis Coin I spent just as many years futilely fighting to change my Mother’s negative view of Marijuana. I constantly fought to inform my Mother Marijuana had multiple Medical Uses, and wasn’t a killer narcotic like Crack. I argued that the Gate Way Drug Theory was bullshit. Was I really meant to believe if I smoked Weed on Wednesday I’d be robbing Old Ladies and shooting Heroin into my fucking neck?!!! Bullshit.

Now we fast forward to 2016 and I’m now in my 30’s and I was a married home owner living in the Great Southern Swamp. I was visiting my Father who was struggling against Liver Cancer because he wan’t people to remember him as he was not as a crippled, bed ridden living Corpse.

My Father loved to cook, hell thats an understatement. He had cooked dinner for me,my Wife, Himself, his 2nd Wife, and oddly my Mother. We were in the middle of eating I was seated at one end of the table and my Father at the other when my Mother (sitting to the right of my Father), and then it happened. My Father at that point was on a powerful as fuck Steroid that was causing mild insomnia (He slept 3-4 hours a night) and inhibiting his appetite. Now not just cooking food, but eating it as well was one of my Father’s true passions, and he quit Chemotherapy because he was too nauseous and fatigued to even think about eating shit.

My Mother leans over and all of a sudden she asked:

“Have you tired Marijuana???”

Now the answer was yes he had tried it once since getting sick. He had decided to try it at least once since he had nothing to loose (not like it kill him). The first hurdle for him (besides living in a state where Marijuana is still Illegal) was he was in his 70’s so who could he ask about getting Weed? He finally asked a close friend who had a Daughter who lived in The Rotten Apple and had a Dealer. Next my Father had obsessed about how much he should smoke ( take a couple hits of a joint? Smoke Half? Smoke it All? I think he was very weary of the affects and it made him rather uneasy.

The Daughter’s Dealer sent a Joint along to my Father along with the message to Please Smoke the Sample Joint and if my Father liked it to let him know. I didn’t have the pleasure of smoking with my Father, but my Younger Brother did. This was in part due to a phone call awhile before hand where I asked him to be there to help assist my Father’s inaugural Toking to make sure things went smoothly. It did accept no one informed my Father that due to its unique reverse tolerance (Marijuana has to build up in your system before you can experience the High which is why in most all cases a person won’t get Stoned the 1st or 1st few times the smoke.) he might need to keep going, but he figured once was enough for him.

I couldn’t get over what my Mother had said and couldn’t let it go until I found out why. It only took a couple of moths or so and I learned the real story.

Apparently my Mother has a very good friend who suffers from brutal insomnia (She would go DAYS without sleeping), and she to had a Daughter who happened to live in Colorado (The New Mecca for Marijuana in America). So inevitably my Mother’s Friend flew out to visit her Daughter, and while she was there visiting her Daughter suggested trying Marijuana to combat her ongoing contest against insomnia. My Mother’s friend thought why not and purchased some Weed from a local Dispensary (Marijuana is Legal for Medical AND Recreational Adult Use) and tried it. She was blown away as she had never imagined Marijuana would work nearly as well as it did. Since that trip She had been singing the praises of Marijuana to everyone She knew INCLUDING MY MOTHER.

Then in that instant I realized what the fuck was going on. Its damn near identical as to going to Court. You can go to Court and tell the Judge your innocent and he sends you to jail, BUT if you hire a Lawyer and he says the same fucking thing you did/would have all of a sudden the Judge starts listening.

And thats exactly what had happened with my Mother and her views of Marijuana. I could tell her till I was blue in the fucking face (and I did) about the benefits of Marijuana and all the bullshit propaganda BUT UNTIL HER GOOD FRIEND VOUCHED FOR THE BENEFITS OF MARIJUANA THROUGH HER PERSONAL EXPERIENCE was the convincing factor for my Mother’s drastic and positive attitude change towards Medical Marijuana.

Sometimes its not WHATS BEING SAID BUT WHO’S SAYING IT that matters.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

The Backyard Beasts Big Break

It was just one of those mundane and utterly uneventful night a few days back that was until 4:07am. And then all fucking Hell broke loose. My Wife had passed out in her favorite Lazy Boy Recliner around midnight or so, and I dozed off around a little before 3 am.

The Backyard Beasts had been more vocal than usual that evening which now that I think about it was some serious foreshadowing. It was the wailing, Whining, loud, and virtual nonstop barking of the Backyard Beasts that woke my very unamused Wife who then yelled about being woke up due to the son of a bitch beasts. This in turn immediately woke me up and I glanced at the clock which read 4:07 am.

My Wife was shuffling like mad around looking for a flashlight and her shoes. My shoes where near by under the coffee table so I snatched them up, put them on, turned off the alarm system, found my keys, unlocked the door, and bounded out to the front porch.

I start scanning the yard squinting like a motherfucker because we don’t have street lights being so far out in the woods. I cursed out loud for not getting a hold of a flashlight myself as I stared into the night. The I saw it. It was big solid black silhouette standing at the edge of the yard between two trees. The only reason I could see that much was thank to the aid of our neighbors rather promenade out door lights. Their lights backlit the street just enough to see the contrast between the black of night and the black of the beasts.

I yelled to my Wife that there was another Beast out here and that was exciting ours evidently though I was completely wrong. This is not uncommon here in the Woods where people let there dogs roam like free range chickens out and about at all hours doing whatever they please.

I then had a odd feeling and then it clicked. This wasn’t a neighbor’s Beast, it was one of ours, the Brother Beast. I ran down into the yard words the Beast shouting his name, and He came right over. I took hold of his collar with an steely grip of a fucking Bear trap.

My Wife had ran directly to the back gate (instead of entering from the house where the Beasts are forbidden to go) and opened it to go see what she could find the fuck out. In opening the back gate she inadvertently let out the 2nd of our pair of Beasts (their a Brother-Sister Team who are the absolutely inseparable. The Girl won’t follow her Brother so she stayed put in the yard and lamented loudly pleading with her Brother to come the fuck back already.) The Girl then decided to go rejoin her Brother and tore off like a fucking rocket into the dead of night.

My Wife ran passed me to corral the Sister Beast as I passed her with the Brother Beast in tow. I put the Boy Beast back into the confines of the backyard, and went to help my Wife. All of a sudden I hear her proclaim allowed that she has BOTH Beasts now. I holler back that I’m going to get some leashes to tie up the Beasts while I go inspect the backyard to see where the Beast escaped from.

I searched relentlessly checking the fence, the yard, and looked for any clues such as did he go under or over the Fence? Was the back gate to the yard eft unlocked? That kind of shit. Well after inspecting the backyard I was stumped. So I did the only thing I could and that was to take the gamble. The gamble being that if I had my Wife return the Beasts to the backyard that instead of waiting for me to leave and then escaping again, but rather the Boy would be stupid enough to just go for it right in front of me. Luckily it was the latter.

The dumb bastard trotted around to the opposing side of the house, walked over to the far side of the Air Conditioner, crouched down to the ground by the section of the fence that meets the Home Office, and started to crawl under it like some solider at boot camp running a obstacle course. I hurried over, bent down, and grabbed the Beast at the base of his large tail. As I retrieved the Boy Beast from out under the fence I informed my Wife I found his way out.

I then set to work fixing the issue the best I could with what I had available at 4 fucking AM. First I used some small fence stakes to secure the bottom of the fence like doctor Frankenstein stitching up his Monster. I the placed to long and rather weighty spare wooden beams at the base to help block the dig site/zone. My Wife and I went inside to catch our breath. Then the Mournful Howling started up again. I ran out front and again spotted our Boy bouncing around gleefully in the front yard without a care in the world. I managed once again to catch hold of his collar and wrangled him back into the backyard.

I immediately went to inspect the escape site and saw he had maneuvered the beams out of the way and tore up/out damn near every fence stake. So this time we decided it be best to just section off that small 5 foot long and 3 foot wide area until morning (when I could go to Home Depot and load up on cinder blocks to line the bottom of the fence with. Dig under that you big bitch is the motto) We had a massive and heavy piece of Ply Wood left over from the construction of my Art Studio I had held onto. This was perfect for the job of blockade. It was Long enough to block the space, tall enough neither Beast could jump or climb over or under it, and it was pretty damn heavy.

My Wife and I were on the porch winding down off our adrenaline fueled frustration when we heard deliberate scratching of claws against wood. We both ran out back again and saw that the leaning Ply Wood wasn’t going to cut it by itself as the Boy Beast was creeping through the space behind it. I went and got the previously used beams and wedged them up against the Ply Wood, but we still need more. I found some old, solid wood barn type doors left over from the previous owner and I knew they had some serious weight to them so I leaned both of them up against the ply Wood, andante again my Wife and I retired to the House.

Yet again We heard the Boy Beast testing the viability of the Ply Wood wall and for what seemed like the 5,000th time went to go evaluate the escape situation. We came to the conclusion the Ply Wood needed yet MORE securing so I went and fetched some of the mock rout iron gates that came in sections down at the Home Depot’s gardening center. I used the pieces of gate the pin the Ply Wood to the Air Conditioner, and it held fast.

Finally my Wife and I got a few more hours of sleep before waking for work. My Wife went off to work as per usual, and I fired up my Lap Top. Then after about an hour or two I heard the Girl Beast’s cry of desperation. I ran to a back window and peered out only to see that fucking son of a bitch Boy Beast standing on the dirt road behind our home office happier than a Prize Pig in shit. I went out and pretended I was giving his Sister a treat (I always give the Beasts a treat before heading out anywhere.), and just like a sucker at a used car dealer he bought it.

I then called my Wife in a foul fit of anger (and exasperation) and told her what happened, and that outside of killing them or myself had come to the end of my rope. She instructed me to house the Beasts on the front porch until she got off work. She said right after she got off she’d head over to Home Depot and pick up the cinderblocks.

I followed her lead and stashed the Beasts on the front porch for the day. I couldn’t help it though I had to see how the hell the Boy had pulled off yet another escape. I was truly surprised at what I found. The Ply Wall was perfectly still intact. After further inspection I realized the Boy Beast I climbed up and over the Air Conditioner Unit to circumvent the Ply Wood, and then simple jumped down the other side into the separated section to dig under the fence.

That evening my Wife returned home with the cinderblocks, and I went about building a Fence Bottom Cinderblock Barrier. Before I laid the cinder blocks down I used a couple sections of the mock fence as anchors. I simply slid the legs of the section of mock fence between sections of the chain link thus pinning it to the ground. The Boy Beast did try and escape again to no vail, but not due to a lack of trying. All I had to due to secure that bottom section of the fence was to tweak the cinderblock’s formation. And all is quite on the Western Front as some would be apt to say.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Life Without Beer??? WHAT!!!

So recently I decided as an experiment to put down the beer for 2 weeks. I put down the hard liquor and all that other stuff and drugs, but couldn’t help myself to a few whipits, I mean the jackassed government only gives me $14 of food stamps a month and I can’t use this on smokes or beer so what better.

So I did this experiment, still felt like shit and got drunk. I went overboard but whatelse is new. Hard liquor, control, and my presence usually equal drama. For as little drama as I supply sober, I more then make up a few shots, no wait it really only takes one drink to get the drama train started.

Yeah blah blah blah. So I went back to beer. Drama really doesn’t happen with beer unless I’m drinking because I’m sad and well I’ve only done that drink beer sad thing twice in the past year. First time ended with a broken emergency supply kit in my vehicle (and a very angry friend’s grandmother who wants to crucify me) and the second time ended with a seven hour phone call. Maybe longer. Not sure, was worshipping the porcelin god in my bathroom.

So twice in a year isn’t so bad. It’s far worse with hard.

Long story short. I think I have a gluten allergy. Which means no beer!!!! I can get over the lack of chips and pretzels and processed crap and bread but no beer!!!!

All I know is I am A LOT happier the past week and certain ailments (most notably dry skin and random happy 31st birthday acne) have mystically cleared up.

Right now, I feel like Courtney Love probably felt when she was becoming an actress like, “Oh shit I need to put on a dress AND underwear??? And pose like a lady ??? And not get drunk that bad!!!!???? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!”.

Well she only lasted well maybe a year or two before she was drunk and screaming at Madonna on MTV.

Anyway that’s how I feel. I am not ready to put on professional people clothes and wear ties and drink glasses on wine with equally stuffy people sipping on cosmos. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

I mean I’m more a box of wine type, but there’s no good place to put that in my car. It’s like when I used to travel with my hooka, it was great company for trips by oneself but I like red wine and I’m a bit of a mess.

So does anyone have ideas of either A) What I should drink? B) Where I should drink? OR C) The next establishment they would like to see me banned from. (and YES I have not been bannished from anywhere since “ASSGATE” in Philly. Almost 3 years ago!!!!!)

Brought to you by,

SpaceDog

Fake Doctors: Blah, Blah, Bullshit

Ever since I was a young child, I have been affected by other people’s emotions and thoughts. No I cannot read the minds of people that I do not know and most of the time cannot read the minds of people that I do know. Sometimes I wish I could; most of the time I’m glad I cannot do this the majority of the time.

Yet when I have felt the feelings of others, the majority of the time this has frightened me. This has caused me to turn to alcohol (mostly) and turn to drugs the remander of the times. Usually there is so much negativity when I enter a room or false hope or fake smiles, that I have a proclivity towards not really associating with the general public all that often.

I have taken recent steps to try and change this. I cannot and will not shut these feelings off anymore with psychotropic drugs, legal or street, ever again. It is rather hard for me to accept these kind of things as being real or being a blessing instead of a curse but I know they do exist. People have tried to label me in the past as having depression or bipolar disorder or (name a disorder ) they’ve probably said, “Yes! You do have THIS!”.

Newsflash to all those wonderful people that wear the biggest masquerade ball mask of all! This would be psychatrists to those of who may be wearing a mask of your own.

First of all, I do not accept your practice as a genuine medical science. It is a cash cow. Simply put: We are all human. We all get depressed and anxious and have mood swings and get too happy for things that we shouldn’t be getting so happy about.

Another reason I do not accept your practice as legitimate is due to the fact that while, yes, I have in fact met the definition of clinical depression in the past but all that antidepressants have done is either make me more depressed or caused side effects so great that the idea of facing the world in any way, shape or form was most undesired.

What you may ask are these side effects? Everything from numbing of the face to sharp pains in my side (presumably my kidney) to having auditory hallucinations (which included by were not limited to hearing all music and sound a semitone lower then what actually was occuring) to homicidal nightmares to headaches that lasted for weeks on end to not having the full functionality of my brain available to me.

Of course, all doctors and professionals in their field will tell you to bear through the side effects and they will go away. However I have to much of my brain to go without my brain. I’m quick with my mouth and well when it takes 30 seconds to coming up with something clever or meaningful to say versus 2.3 seconds (or less), I am completely dull and worthless to myself and others.

How then did this depression go away? I made a choice to at least try and be happy. Do things that make me happy. See people that make me happy. Listen to music that makes me happy. It’s pretty amazing how a bunch of little things add up sometimes to complete the puzzle.

No, I’m not perfect. I still make tons of really stupid decisions but the level of stupidity is going downward. I am the most relaxed I have been in my entire life.

I am not really afraid of anything except writing. I love to write and since my life is relatively simple now, there is no excuse for me to not drop everything when I get a thought or idea. I guess fear stops me. I’m scarred right now. lol. well not that much more tired. 🙂

I just wish more people could see things the way I do. I don’t want to get into all kinds of specifics right now though, I’m too tired to think much more and too private to reveal all my intracacies in a public blog. Or most people wouldn’t believe what I am saying, at least the ones that think they know me.

And with that I say naught more.

By SpaceDog

A Peak Behind a Particular Pet Store’s Policy

It was a couple of years ago at this point that I walked into a particular Pet Store which I’d love to call out, and name said Pet Store but I won’t. Why You ask? The answer is I don’t want to run ANY RISK of some asshole reading this, and narcing Me out so then I get sued by this Pet Store for Slander/Defamation of Character.

Anyways I walked into this Pet Store because My Ball Python (Monty and if you get the reference give yourself a pat on the back. The Pet Store had one annoying issue which was even though they didn’t/don’t work on commission get right up in your fucking face like some possessed Used Car Salesman soon as you set a single foot on the floor.

This Employee (who I wouldn’t name here either, but I honestly have no idea what his actual name was/is) was a Assistant Manager or perhaps an actual Manager. He of course came striding up to me with a greasy fake smile that made him look like a fucking Child Molester on Meth and asked Me what I was looking for. I told Manny I was there for a couple of Mice, and Manny cut Me off at the knees. As soon as I said Mice I was going to get the fucking whole rigamarole about being a Snake Owner. What I mean by that is Manny cut me off to ask if the Mice were for Pets or Food and I of course said food.

At this time Pet Stores were considering what to do about the growing Public Opinion on the subject of Reptile Owners feeding live Rodents to their Pets. I won’t take but a moment to address this happy load of Horseshit. First off REPTILES EAT RODENTS, its a fucking FACT OF NATURE. You don’t fault a Nile Crocodile for killing a fucking Wilda Beast do you?!

Second as I wrote PREVIOUSLY there are Dead Frozen Rodents for sale (a half assed attempt to solve the growing tension as Reptile Owners prepared to go head to head and toe for toe with the General Public over the issue) BUT it requires all kinds of nasty prep work because they Reptile will only eat its Prey if its either alive or has just died mere moments ago. You won’t find a Zoo Staff feeding Frozen TV fucking Diners to their Lions and other Big Cats housed there would you?!! If you don’t get what I’m saying here just think about it for a few minutes.

Instead of acting like a self righteous, judgmental piece of ignorant shit in gauged Me in a conversation pertaining sole to My wanting Live Mice to feed a hungry snake. It is pertinent that I mention here for those of you who aren’t aware Male Rats / Male Mice fight constantly which results in serious injuries, I mean think about how sharp their teeth are (not to mention they also have 5 sets of claws so having those are well handy in a fight.) Manny went on to mention that they had the issue with their Stock of Mice/Rats.

See No Pet Store is going to pay a $40-$60 for an initial Vets Visit for a $1.99 Mouse or $4.99 Rat. They also aren’t going to have their employees medicating the injured Rodents with liquid Antibiotics for 7-14 days while applying Topical Ointment. Now on the other hand they also can’t sell the injured Rodents because No One would buy one, No One wants damaged goods. So what can They do about it. At this point in time One Major Pet Store Chain Stopped carrying Live Rodents altogether while another simply decided not to sell Male Rodents as their the aggressive sex. Yet that is Now and this was back When.

Manny continued on to tell me that the Pet Store would be willing to sell Me the injured Mice at a Discount because as far as the business was concerned some money beats no money, but it had to be on the Down Low as the Pet Store didn’t want to upset the General Public. Manny went on to mention that this Pet Store’s policy was if they couldn’t unload them at a discount to Reptile Pet Owner’s they would crate them back up and send them to be Euthanized I’m sure they got a deal for bulk.

I took Manny up on the Back Door Deal of unloading injured Mice for profit and promptly left. I returned a few weeks later again in need of a few Live Mice to feed My Snake (well one of them, it was the Ball Python again as it were.) ,and because of the semi shady grey area the Pet Store was operating in I asked for Manny much like meeting your Pot Dealer at their place of employment. Turned out that Manny wasn’t working that day so another Employee asked how they could help me? Not wanting to possibly get into a heated confrontation with this Employee on the subject of feeding Reptiles Live Rodents (or Prey Animals) I figured fuck it and just went for it.

I told the Employee about My previous arrangement with Manny and it went over like a Pregnant Nun in Church as some would say.They Employee was first and foremost on of those impractical Anti-Live Feed People so that was no help. Second while the grimace on her fucking face showed her disgust for Reptile Owners on the issue of Live-Feed her eyes where busy narcing her out. Her eyes told Me that she damn well knew about the injured Rodent Unofficial Policy, BUT she also knew it was her job to totally deny it. And thats exactly what she did she feigned Shock and Disbelief at what I had said, and then informed no such policy existed (and if Manny did make a deal he was acting on his own, an employee gone rouge if you will.)

I respond by tell the Employee that I didn’t believe a fucking thing she said, and that as far as her personal views on Live Feeding that she needs to keep them to her fucking self (at least while on the job AT A FUCKING PET STORE LIKE AN ASSHOLE) I then told her the issue was far from fucking over and left.

If your pissed I didn’t name this Pet Store I can tell you this. This National Pet Store Chain’s Name STARTS WITH PET and ends in Well you can figure it out based on that I’m sure (or damn well close enough.)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Dr. Ignoramus’s Monumental Misdiagnosis Results in Near Death

Recently my Heart tried to kill me since the Chain Smoking, Binge Drinking, Shitty Diet, Shooting Heroin, Smoking Crack, Other Assorted Narcotics, and Hepatitis C couldn’t get the job done first. Ironically the issue with my Damnable Heart is more than likely due to my prior Drug use earlier in My wayward Youth. As usual People tell Me I’d feel better off if I wrote about whatever it is currently vexing the shit out of me (like My Hellish Heart) if I write about it. Well no shit Sherlock. The reason I never would have mentioned My Shitty Heart scenario is because its none of anyones fucking business but Mine, and I’ll handle it so Everyone Piss Off. I also hate People who always seem to be bitching about there fucking health always seeking sympathy. I don’t need nor want anyones sympathy.

Well with that said I’m using this post as an Acid Test to see if in this case writing about it helps, so We will see here We go….

I had been having increasing trouble breathing to the point it was disrupting My Sleep and Appetite. At this point even though I detest no despise Doctor’s, Hospitals, Health Insurance Companies, and Medical Testing decided it was time to check things out (though I was already convinced there was nothing to worry about so I’d get it checked out.) I ended up at a Local Hospitals Urgent Care Satellite Office because Hospitals are now desperately trying to cash in on the Walk-In Urgent Care Field.

This makes perfect sense as Hospital ER’s are loosing increasing amounts of income due to the fact people opt for Urgent Care Clinic’s (usually because of convince and most of all Price. You see as soon as you walk into an ER your tab starts at $1,000 and thats just for utilizing the ER everything else they do costs extra as every fucking thing they due is itemized and comes with a hefty price tag. $22 for a fucking 800mg Aspirin?! I mean its fucked up as a patient you get charged just for occupying a semi private room for $1,200 – $1,500 a day like some Wealthy Elite 5 Star resort in fucking Dubai. Well Back to the Story.

I checked in, and was escorted promptly to an Examination room. A couple of minutes later the Office’s Physician’s Assistant (or PA for short) who is one rung lower on the Medical Ladder than an actual Doctor came in. I explained what was going on and based on what I said He decided the best course of action was to run a Cardiac Work Up which is standard practice for anyone presenting with the medical definition of Chest Pain. To Me Pain fucking Hurts, so a what I deemed a minor respiratory issue doesn’t constitute Chest Pain, but in the World of Medicine it does so fuck me.

There 3 parts to a Cardiac Work-Up the first being a EKG to monitor your hearts current behavior, a Cardiac Blood Panel, and a Series of Chest X-Rays which they did. Now based on the Combined Test results this imbecile of a PA diagnosis me with fucking Anxiety, Gives me a fistful of asinine Ativan, and told me to look into seeing a Shrink.

What He should have done was send me immediately directly to the closest ER for Admittance, in spite of preforming the correct Tests He made a gross and grave misdiagnosis.

Case in point, I saw that ignorant Idiot on a Wednesday, and on the Morning of the following Monday I was being admitted to the Hospital via the ER as Doctors/Nurses scrambled to treat me as I was in danger of going into massive cardiac arrest followed most likely by death even though at that point I was surrounded by The Hospital’s assorted Medical Staff.

Since My Recovery I have contacted the 2 Agencies of the American Medical Association has in place to handle complaints by investigating the Patient’s claims. Doctors hate these 2 Agencies because they actually fear the fuck out of them. Thats because BOTH AGENCIES can level hefty fines, suspend the Doctor’s Medical license, and Even Revoke The Doctor’s License thus ending their career. I called and filed a complaint with BOTH Agencies. I have not yet decided wether or not to pursue a Medical Malpractice Law Suit, BUT I did find out the Statute of Limitation in which I have to file a Suit if I so wish.

Thats All. Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

Lazarus The Slayer of The Septic Roots

The other Day as I’m enjoying my coffee along with some Bong hits when I was informed by one of the Kiddies (a semi “affectionate” nickname I have bestowed upon our 3 Interns. Our Part Time Staff of 2, and Our 2 Full Time Employees are referred to as the Children) informed me We apparently had a rather sudden plumbing issue. When I asked what seemed to be the particular plumbing problem was per say I was informed the Toilets were filling BUT NOT Flushing. In addition the damned Dishwasher, and the washed up clothes Washer both decided to start spouting spurts of water from the valves on the their respective walls.

This was symptomatic of 1 of 2 most possible scenarios. The First is the Main Drain was Clogged, and the Second would be an issue with The Building’s Septic System. I called our Contractor Jamison who referred me to his Plumbing Guy Lazarus Riggs who I called immediately. I had to leave a message which seriously aggravated the shit out of me as I hate waiting for anything especially if its an emergency/Immediate attention. Lazarus did call back though in a prompt and timely manner. I told Lazarus what was going on and he graciously said He’d swing by shortly and check the septic situation out (though it was raining like a motherufcker, and had been for the past 2 days, and Lazarus mentioned during our phone call that he “Didn’t particularly like getting Wet.”)

When Lazarus arrived I realized there was the minor issue of I had no damn idea where the fuck the Septic Tank actually was (We bought the Building from The Bank so not like they gave us blue prints and shit) So Lazarus armed with a 5 foot long solid steel Pry Bar deal (it looks like a giant Railroad Spike), and with it he proceeded to wonder around in suspect areas spearing the ground as He went like some Norse Viking Warrior trying to Impale Satan Himself. After searching for more than several minutes Lazarus’s mighty Steel Staff hit a Solid spot that wasn’t a Rock. Lazarus then started to feel out the perimeter of what he believed whole heartedly was the Septic Tank.

While Lazarus was working on that I mentioned that putting the Septic Tank on the side of the Building that had the most fucking Trees was a monumentally Moronic move to which Lazarus agreed. When Lazarus finally uncovered enough of the outline to the Septic Tank outlined We ran into yet another issue. Instead of building the Septic Tank vertically or Horizontally they built it on a fucking 45 degree angle diagonally. What made this plumbing abomination even more insanely idiotic was by choosing to to build the Septic Tank that was that two thirds of the actual Septic Tank was buried under a set of exterior stairs leading off the huge as hell Front Porch.

As my face quickly spiraled from slightly flushed with insurmountable irritation to borderline maroon with out of control Anger Lazarus told me we might not yet be totally screwed. As it were there were two types of Septic Tank lids one thats a simple cap that can be popped open to inspect the Septic Tank, and the other type was a Slab cover which sounds exactly like what it is. If there was a Cap Top we’d be fine and if not then it was back to the drawing board as those who like cliches would say. Unfortunately as you might imagine (as our regular readers are aware of things here always seem to go bizarrely) it wasn’t a Cap Top but the Shitty Slab Top variety.

I then asked Lazarus to hold on a minute which he was glad to do as I gave my Wife (who was at work) a call to report that We found the Septic Tank, its ridiculous location and asinine positioning as well as the dueling cap issue at hand. I did this as a curtesy because the last goddamn thing I need is my Wife coming home and seeing a pile of wood and shit because then she’d wonder what the fuck her impulsive Husband was or had been up to in her absence. She of course agreed we had to do whatever it was we had to do because leaking appliances and un-flushable toilets were un-fucking acceptable. I returned to tell Lazarus I would be right back as I was retreaving some additional tools from the garage out back to assist us in dismantling the exterior staircase. In the end all it took was Lazarus on one side with his bad ass Steel Bar and I on the other opposing side armed with a 10 pound Sledge Hammer to quickly abolish the stairs completely.

Lazarus uncovered the rest of the Slab Top and started to pry it off like some Asshole Indiana Jones loving Archeologist on a History Channel Special on the opening of some far forgotten King/Queen/Emperor’s long lost Tomb. At this point I was freaking the fuck out because I was utterly convinced the Septic Tank was completely and totally compromised, and would have to be replaced due to extensive Root Damage (to the tune of $7,000). Luckily it wasn’t quite as bad as I expected. The pipe that emptied from the Building into the Septic Tank itself was chocked up like a son of a bitch with goddamn Roots. There was also a MASSIVE ball of Roots like a cancerous Septic Tank Tumor further complicating things as it were.

Lazarus started the laborious and strenuous job of removing the Root Tumor if you will using a Hatchet, a pair of Tree Limb Cutters, a Hand Saw and a sharply nosed Shovel. I started to stack the pieces of the obliterated stairs trying desperately not to get scratched or punchered on one of the seemly hundreds of rusty old ass nails that stuck out of the wood like a metal Porcupine’s quills. Lazarus succeeded in removing all of the Big Ass Root Tumor entirely, though he did have a few doubts along the way, and he managed to unclog the Pipe.

I thanked Lazarus for all of his help and expertise, and he charged me $100 for 2 hours of labor in the rain (Can’t beat Southern Country Prices). I called my Wife to give her the all clear, and headed off to my Art Studio to continue work ing on a current Sculpture Project. We have absolutely no plans whatsoever to replace/build the Exterior Stairs obviously as not to block the top of the Septic Tank (it doesn’t functionally matter as the stairs were a secondary set more for aesthetics than use). We have also administered a Yearly Root Killer, and a Septic Tank Shit Sludge maintenance as temporary measures, but ultimately the Trees have to go and the sooner the fucking better to avoid a Serious Septic Situation.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

A Year in The Podunk Press

We decided to relocate to the Southern Country just in time for their busiest year in News for Decades. See nothing note worthy happens around here News wise though Gossip runs rampant like a fucking Plague. The usual News are Hunting/Fishing/Camping/Agricultural Articles or Reports, Local Church’s Schedules, Local Government (aka Town Hall Shit), Weddings/Births/Deaths, and Local Events such as Fish Fries and all that sort of shit.

This Year though has been the 100 year acceptation (I think its safe to assume nothing News Worthy has happened here in at least century or so.) It just goes to show you even in the middle the No Where Woods the clique clique Shit Happens proves to be true. Here’s The Run Down for the Last Year here in Podunktoria (Population Few Hundred):

Three Idiot Burglars and Arson. Three Local Guys planned and executed the robbery of several local stores at 4 am Wednesday night. The Stores where located next door to each other Row Home Style. After loading up their car Two of the men fled on foot into the dark of night. The Third Guy was the designated Get Away. Now here is where things go complete wrong for our remaining Felon. Apparently the Burglars had cased the stores, and planed the robbery for a hour the damn well knew NO BODY would be on the road or around.

The one thing these three idiots didn’t do was monitor the Police activity. Granted theres not a whole hell of a lot of Police Activity (Our town has 2 and We have Guns because of it, and the Neighboring Town has 3 Full Time Cops and 2 Part Time Police Officers), but there is some. So since someone forgot to do their criminal homework there was actually a Local Cop on Patrol that was driving by right after the Robbery accrued.

Now this shit makes NO SENSE. The Get Away Driver does something completely unnecessary and utterly moronic. He gets in the Get Away Car after setting a fire to eradicate any evidence, reeves up the engine, put the Peddle to the Metal, and sped down the Ally way to Main Street. Then this Ignoramus pulls out onto Main Street full fucking speed Hell or High Water. Thats when the Get Away Driver almost T-Bones the Cop on Patrol. Well The Robber punches it and the chase is on. The chase ended the the Get Away Drivers Car got away from him on these pitch black and winding country roads, and crashed into a drainage ditch. This Robbery/Arson is in this small town these were 3 a a very few Stores/Shops that were open and doing daily business. On top of that there was a shit ton of cool antique shit stored on the 2nd floor of the three buildings such as a Model T with all its original parts, and a 1920’s large oak Bar to name a few.

The Get Away Driver was taken to a near by Hospital where he was interrogated by the Police before giving up his accomplices names. He’s partners in crime where both arrested immediately at their respective residences. The Clique that proved true for these 3 would be Robbers that “There is NO Honor among Thieves”

2. The Chicken Farm Fire. A Massive local Commercial Chicken Farm had several buildings and Pens that weren’t currently being used because the County Officers had shut them down for Outdated/Unsafe Electrical Wiring. Finally after stalling for years The Chicken Farm was in the very begging stages of replacing said shitty electrical wiring when Fate’s Clock ran out. Apparently some of the faulty wiring sparked and ignited a fire. Now the Pens/Building in question where old and weathered, the wood that comprised said structures was drier than Death Valley and went up like a Bon Fire run amok. Before any could do a damn thing the Fire speed like hot butter on toast. The Fire took hours to get under control and the fire has been ruled “Accidental”. The Chicken Farm is in the process of rebuilding their lost facilities.

3. This just happened last month that being The Metal Recycling Plant Fire. The Local Metal Recycling and Car Crashing Plant became part of a Hazardous Container Disposal Program. This dictated anyone with empty containers with toxic chemical residue could drive to the Plant and drop off the empty containers. Now apparently there is no sorting or separating of these Chemical Containers their just all lumped together in a rather large collecting Bin. In school science was my strong suit and neither was Chemistry, BUT even I know mixing Chemicals can be dangerous/hazardous. Well some of the various residues leaked out of the containers and combusted into a fabulous inferno in no time flat. When the local Fire Departments arrived there was little they could do accept keep the fire from spreading outside the perimeter of the Plant. It took 4 days until the Fire burned itself out. The Metal Recycling Plant is in the process of rebuilding. There is still lingering concern about the possible health risks posed to residents from the Smoke from the Chemical Induced Fire.

4. THE BODY IN THE LAKE. I know even I’m fucking relieved this one has nothing to do with fucking Fire. This happened literally down the street and around the corner from our current Offices. Last Wednesday around 5 pm a concerned Citizen phoned the Local Police because he was concerned there was a Body floating in the lake. The Police showed up along with EMT’s and the Fire Department and shut the road down near a favorite fishing spot along the Lake’s banks. After searching for quite a while they located the body. Up till now the only details the Police have released are the Body was a Unknown Clothed Male. I found that funny as usually these sort of details are Sex, Race, and Approximate Age. Since then all the Police have said is that they were waiting for an autopsy to establish cause of death and the identity of the deceased. The Locals speculated it was either a boating fatality, accidental drowning as in perhaps the man had a seizure/heart attack or the like and fell overboard.

That was until today. Today the Police released the following information The Identity of the Deceased, and the cause of death had been reported by the Coroner as Murder. The Police are looking for a suspect.

Well Thats a Years worth of News from a tiny town in The No Names Woods.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober