Politics no less interesting today than any other day. No reason to write about it. Not today anyway.

Who cares?

Except the socialist thing. You’ve got be fucking kidding me. Three quarters of these asshats don’t know what the word means. Most of them couldn’t spell it. See, Americans hear words like that and a certain number are preprogrammed to hear anything from communist to dictator.

More than a few hear faggot, homo and pinko.

Once again they play to the stupid, the ignorant, with words. Just words. The stupid are just that. Hopelessly vulnerable. Game birds on a reserve with clipped wings.

Richard Bruce Cheney standing there with the barrel of a twenty gauge up on his shoulder. Banging him in the head as sucks his flask though it were a golden teat. The front of his pants stained by his own piss.

Guess what happens next?

Anyway, my day sucked. The bloody fruit on top of the shit sundae was a good old friend treating my as though I were an idiot. Painful.

Now I’m furious.

Wierd when people spin on you like that. The lessons I’m learning by doing business with friends and colleagues are eye opening. There is no real glory in sales. It can be interesting and without a doubt challenging. It’s often ugly.

I was in a meeting last week where some guy they all respected was there to school us on sales techniques. He had some seven or eight point plan. To be fair, I walked in, in the middle.

It wasn’t why I was in my monkey costume that day. I was there on business. I had shit to do.

I both like and respect the big man. If I can make this work it will be a good fit. The big man, he’s a monster, requests my presence in this sales meeting, so there I am. The guy conducting made some points but there was much about him that made me want to wash my hands.

Again in fairness, I’m a compulsive hand washer.

Such a difference between pitching and closing on the phone and the art of the same in person. I don’t doubt I can do it but I’m not sure how eager I am.

I’ve got an ally and a mentor who gives me as much time as I need. He rocks. We understand each other. He brings a full tool box, loans me whatever I need. He has only one testicle.

Television:

“The Mentalist” -CBS

Crime scene. Some genius figures out there’s a secret safe room, finds the remote, figures out the code and finds the body in like the first two minutes. And he’s cheeky. Next.

I end up on a preseason Laker game against Charlotte. Both benches on the floor. I like basketball. Not tonight.

I turn the sound off. That works.

I understand there’s no good news in my mailbox, so I rarely check it.

My cat keeps peeing on my comforter.

My ass is broke.

I learned from television tonight that everyone has a nice house and a totally pimp office/work enviroment. I’m thinking this phenomena must be a big part of the current financial clusterfuck. They all seem to work in the public sector. They’ve all got huge ultra modern apartments and then they go home to a hidden rustic winery.

How can we afford that?

Throw three or four handfuls of baby peas (fresh or frozen) in with two cans of cream of mushroom soup along with a half can or so of tuna packed in oil, but strain the oil, some butter, sea salt, garlic powder and a fresh ground five pepper blend. Simmer depending on the peas (fresh or frozen) over low heat. Garnish with some shavings of parmesan and thinly sliced scallions. Serve in a shallow bowl.

Or. Grow some labia and chop a few tablespoons of shallots and sautee them in butter. Maybe toss in a few slivered almonds or pine nuts. A few spoonfulls from that can of tuna right before you add a glug of cheap dry white wine and set it to boil. Boil the wine almost completely off. Look for just a hint of crispiness on the nuts and translucence from the shallots. With any luck you’ve charred a little tuna. Add pepper and dill. Crank the heat down and stir consistently after adding the Campbells and peas.

Salt to taste bitch.

A shallow bowl.

A small plate of fresh white saltines and lemon slices sprinkled with capers and paprika. Or a fresh crusty bread with olive oil and a sweet vinegar.

Pour a decent blanc de blanc, pinot grigio or sauvignon blanc.

Touch your naughty bits.

Stuff your ears with moist cornmeal and drink whiskey through your nose.

Remind me to tell you about the guy on the balcony just now. I believe he was a foreigner, perhaps a terrorist.

Drinks for my friends.

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