RRRAAAGGGEEE!!!

Yes my disciples, I feel I must unleash a maelstrom of rage for you all to bear witness to, work related rage as well. You see I work in a building with many different personalities all clashing, and one of these personalities is worse than all the others. We will call her, oh I don't know...Michael Bay. I am amazed that A) I am protecting her identity, and B) actively combining her with someone I hate almost as much, making my RAGE levels somewhere near Olympian.








Anyway, so Ms. Bay, I say Ms because I do not know if she's married or not, is effectively a secretary for a very important person in the company. A secretary in effect, with some ancillary powers, like looking after employee goods, as in "There are not enough forks in building D, could we please order more forks." Anyway, she has an extremely inflated sense of worth, and also absolutely hates security. When I say hates I mean it, in the most detached and pointless way possible. she hates us in that kind of weird way where you want to ruin and destroy a group of people...people who are trying to in all regards help you. People who if you get rid of them you need to replace...but with what? I mean seriously, of all the groups at a company to try to eliminate and belittle security is not the one, because if you get rid of us, who will grant you access to the buildings? Who will reserve your parking, and most importantly, who will call the police when a gun wielding maniac shows up demanding to see the Flaming Lips in concert. So anyway, Michael Bay hates us, and no amount of racism, misogynistic high school sex sub plots or explosions will satisfy her rage. She will find access to a building denied and will call us in a fit of rage, explaining that she has always had access, and that to not have access at this critical juncture means that the doors need to all be replaced by us, and that we should all also be deeply ashamed of ourselves for not foreseeing her misfortune.





Then there was today's rage inducing sub plot of her regular war with security, you see today I was notified I would need an extra set of keys, specifically to lock cabinets in the building E break room. Why you might ask? Because coffee and coffee cups were going missing, or rather, that they were having to order more, more frequently than they used to. So because she is some kind of 'hate harpy', a winged mythological beast whose utterances and dark tongue are all derived of that same said emotion...



She assumed that this change in a traditional dynamic could only be explained away by theft. Someone was stealing coffee and styrofoam coffee cups. Now instead of requesting any sort of investigation, or even consulting with the people who would know she instead decided that all the cabinets in those areas needed to be locked at seven and unlocked in the morning. So when this trend continues she will naturally blame security because they are in charge of the locked cabinets where stuff is going missing from. Here are a few things wrong with her thread of logic...

1) There is no cups or coffee leaving the building. I know this because the janitors in charge of that break room have not just been here for years, they also have never received complaints about theft. Oh, and just in case you think that perhaps they have turned to a life of crime using their good credit with the guards I will also note that the actual physical evidence shows that when they leave, they don't leave with bags of cups and coffee. Well then? Who is it?
2) Michael Bay works in another building, in a whole different place than me, with different procedures, admittedly I can walk to her building, because the two are directly connected, but she doesn't come by here, and she has no clue what goes on here. The reason the coffee cups have started to run out faster is because in the last few months it has become common practice for the employees to take a bag and put it next to their respective coolers. Rather than have to walk all the way back, this of course has led to an explosion in cup use as it is no longer a work breaking ordeal to walk across the large space to get a cup of water. As for the coffee, guess what fucko?! It turns out that times are a little tough so there has been a dramatic decline in 'Starbucks Runs', meaning we are using a lot more in house coffee, and also, the employees have been placing bags and bags of the stuff near their portable, localized machines. Of course this is all pretty obvious when you work in the building, and perhaps if you asked someone who worked in the building, but NOOOOO, you have to assume that it's theft, change the rules of the game, and also tarnish the reputation of the only decent janitors we have. Michael Bay you are the biggest and most reviled bitch on the planet, and I fucking hate you. You should probably ask us if it's possible that there is some other reason more coffee is being used, besides theft. Christ!


You get em Nick!

H-H-H-History for 22nd of July!!!

So it has been a while since I illuminated you to the various personages and events from recorded history, however I set to rectify that, with this!


1099, Godfrey of Bouillon, leader of the first crusade is named Defender of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. He apparently preferred the term princep, as the original title was to be 'King of Jerusalem', a name he thought was a little too...what's the word, sacrilegious. Unfortunately for him he only held this position for around a year, before succumbing to either arrow, poisoned water, poisoned apple, or regular run of the mill death at 30.

1298. Battle of Falkirk, King Edward I uses longbowmen to stone kill the Scottish Rebellion of William Wallace, star of Braveheart. In effect Wallace showed up with a bunch of surly guys with pikes, and Edward showed up with organized guys, archers and cavalry. So roughly at the moment sharpened sticks fell from the heavens on the heads of the Scots it was all over.



1812, Arthur Wellesley, who will become in no time flat the Duke of Wellington, defeats Auguste Marmont, French General in Spain at the battle of Salamanca. Of course it's fair to add that Marmont and his second were struck by shrapnel from artillery bombardments within minutes of the fight beginning, so you know, there was that part.

1864. In the United States, or rather what was left of it, William Tecumseh Sherman was busily marching his way towards Atlanta, rather unopposed as the only army between him and the city was under a General Joseph Johnston. Johnston would always pack up and retreat the minute he saw Sherman coming, and was thus becoming unpopular with the higher ups, so it was requested that perhaps General John Bell Hood should go and thrash Sherman. Mind you that this is the end of the war, the Confederates aren't exactly a great fighting force, and Sherman has the whole of the Western Union army under his command at the time. Hood being dramatically outgunned, but under fairly direct orders tries to engage Sherman before he makes it to the Confederacy's rail hub in Atlanta. It fails spectacularly and the Rebels lose 8,000 men, men who are completely irreplaceable at this point. Sherman laughs all the way to Atlanta.

Here we see a depiction of Hood's 46th 'Fightin Paunches'.

1934, America's most wanted man, John Dillinger, is shot by FBI agents as he left the Biograph Theater. Leaving the building he noted FBI agents waiting across the street for him and made a break for it. Unfortunately the Fed's were faster and shot him in the back as he tried to escape. Rather amusingly after death Dillinger gained some notoriety for the photos of his corpse which appeared to showcase him with an enormous 'dead man' erection.

Hot damn! Look at that enormous wang! Is what folks would say, if I wrote for them. in reality however it was quickly revealed that it was merely his arm after rigor mortis had set in, and that his wang was unremarkable...ly HUGE! No, sorry, that's a lie, just a regular...HORSE PENIS! No but seriously folks, John Dillinger looked like a tool and had a tiny penis...COMPARED TO THE PLANET EARTH!!! I better keep going...

1943, The allies role into Palermo! Patton rather enjoyed this stretch of the war, as after he landed he was placed in direct competition with General Montgomery of the British Army. The plan was to land on the South coast of Sicily, then Montgomery would drive North and capture Messina, whilst Patton would take the 'long' way by going West and then up and around capturing Palermo on the way. it certainly worked out for Patton though as somehow rather magically he still managed to beat Montgomery into Messina despite what would have a lengthy delay.

2003, you might remember this folks, the 101st Airborne division kills Saddam's sons Uday and Qusay. Apparently the 101st was simply cruising through town when an informant tipped them off to the location of the brothers. Dropping by for biscuits 200 troops began milling around outside, and it was only after one of the soldiers hot wired Uday's Lamborghini did they actually start shooting. Four hours later the four dudes inside the house (one of them was Qusay's 14 year old son Mustapha) were dead and full of bullets. That goes to show you that in the future, war movies about this will be extremely boring. Imagine just 200 guys all shooting at a building for four hours while jets fly by shooting vulcan cannons at it too. It kills dramatic tension when the underdogs use overwhelming force.

As for celebrations for today, let's see... we have

RATCATCHERS DAY!!! A celebration of the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Or rather a remembrance to pay of companies you owe money to or they'll take your children.

Fuck You Insurance Company I Work For!!!

Alright, here is a little gift from my work. We have a internal service and homepage here at Wellpoint, the insurance company I'm security for, and they have boring articles about how awesome they are every day. Come to think of it, it's like working for a slightly more advanced super capitalist Soviet Union. today however was special because they had on the top of the page a link to a transcript from an interview conducted on NPR, between Steve Innskeep and Dr. Sam Nussbaum. Inskeep hosts the Morning Edition news program on NPR, and is fun to listen to, Nussbaum is Chief Medical Officer for Wellpoint, which means he is a major PR guy for the company, because he is a doctor, and when people become doctors they have more credibility than say anyone who disagrees with them. This is the exact reason I became a doctor...of theology, so that in a pinch I could put Dr. in front of my name and win arguments. Anyway, I present here the transcript of the interview and my commentary on what Nussbaum has to say, and why i hate him. All in all since I copy pasted this from my companies website this might be a 'career' decision where I am fired and sued for distributing unfriendly things about the company via the internet. Mind you that we have a tendency to take peoples complaints and amp up security because anyone who disagrees with us is a bomb throwing anarchist, in the companies eyes. So perhaps, just perhaps I'll get lucky and this will be discovered by company lawyers and they'll make a big case of it, and I'll finally have more than four readers. I'll get so big in fact that I won't be able to afford web hosting and be forced to CLOSE DOWN.

So lets jump right into the interview shall we?

NPR MORNING EDITION TRANSCRIPT

STEVE INSKEEP, co-anchor: Next we’ll hear from a leading insurance company, one of many opposed to the so-called public option. That’s the plan for a government health insurance program to compete with private insurance. We sat down with Dr. Sam Nussbaum, chief medical officer of WellPoint. What’s wrong with the public plan?

(Let me begin by saying that the statement 'compete with private insurance' isn't exactly the way to describe what's being suggested, I would like to think that rather than having the goal of this be a competitive market, the goal is FUCKING HEALTH CARE, besides this Steve's a nice guy.)

Dr. SAM NUSSBAUM (Chief Medical Officer, WellPoint): Steve, we do not endorse a
government-run health plan. We absolutely want to see universal coverage for all Americans. We believe the private sector can provide innovative solutions to healthcare.

(In effect what insurance companies, like Wellpoint and others, want is for the government to create a plan or outline that requires we all have insurance, by law, kind of like car insurance. This is a preferred environment because it means that all Americans will be paying one of the companies something, otherwise they'll be committing some kind of 'health crime'. So, do you see an interesting angle on his argument, "Yes I want healthcare for everyone, wherein no one has a choice but to pay me". Insurance companies have been becoming progressively less and less competitive in the past years via major mergers. Now there are probably only three actual companies operating in the U.S.. For example Wellpoint is actually 'Wellpoint Anthem Blue Cross' those being three different companies in order of ownership. So under a system where everyone has to get a plan under one of the companies you can see a situation arise where the few remaining victors of the consumer insurance wars can artificially control the market for their services because when you have only two other competitors and everyone’s comin' out about equal there's a big enough pie for you all to FUCK.)

INSKEEP: Dr. Nussbaum influences the coverage received by WellPoint’s 35 million customers.
It’s the country’s largest health benefits firm. He argues that the private sector is more efficient
than the government.

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Let me give one specific example, Steve, that I think will be informative. When we look at advanced imaging, and this is MRI, CAT scans, PET scans, we know that as much as
30 percent of those procedures are not necessary and we’ve been able, over the last several
years, to have growth in imaging procedures of between zero and 5 percent. The government
under CMS has seen imaging grow 15 to 20 percent during the same time interval. That’s an
example--

(Yes let's look at your example you pig fucker, he says that around 30% of MRI, CT and PET scans have been determined to be unnecessary. Beyond just fudging number here you have in the same time frame he's describing insurance companies actually eliminating millions of customers who used their insurance too much. Likewise it's in the best interest of a private company to avoid using expensive procedures and to find reasoning, any will do, to not use it. Cases of course arise where Doctors will explain that a patient needs a life saving liver transplant only to have the company say that "No, we're sorry but that seems like a dodgy maneuver, we'd prefer they simply die so we don't have to pay." Now then when looking at this efficiency rating you'll note that also the 'government programs' are less efficient because they use it more, which is hard to explain away unless you consider that the government programs are dealing with a narrower slice of people, and ones that generally require scans more often than the 'healthier' private insurance users. Remember, if you are unlikely to fall ill you are the best candidate for a private insurance companies largesse. So the whole measurement system is cock-eyed because it depends on both entities having identical demographics, which they don't. COCK SUCKERS.)

INSKEEP: You’re talking about Medicare payments. The Medicare program.

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Yes, the Medicare program. We’re talking about the use of imaging services
and the cost of imaging services. So, I would argue that where the private sector has been far
more effective than government programs is in limiting clinical services to those that are best
meeting the needs of patients. Important as Medicare is for coverage for Americans, it has not
been effective in controlling costs, in integrating care, and bringing the advances in medical
treatment to all Americans.

(Advances in medical care? You are equating the advancement of medical care with the limiting of services to narrow group inside your company. Also, I ask that you pay attention to how he keeps referencing the high 'cost' the government program creates, or it's poor control of costs, because that will come up later.)

INSKEEP: There are people who would argue with you about the effectiveness of Medicare or
the efficiency of Medicare. I’ll take the point that you have a different perspective on that, but I
would just ask if you’re not undermining your own argument. If the government is lousy at
providing efficient healthcare, why is a public health plan a threat to you? You’ll just be more
efficient than they are and make money.

(Hmm, Innskeep, that's a good start, but I'd prefer you bait him then sink him, instead of just teasing him with a little "I know some stuff you don't think I know.")

Dr. NUSSBAUM: I believe we will be far more efficient than a government program. I think that
when you look today--

INSKEEP: Then why worry about it? Why not just let them establish it and you won’t lose any
customers to them?

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Here’s the issue, Steve, is that we’re talking about competition not on a level
playing field. The government can negotiate very different for healthcare costs. They can
basically set unit cost reimbursement. They, today, set unit cost reimbursement approximately 20 percent below that paid by the private sector.

(OH YOU DONE FUCKED UP, YOU DONE FUCKED UP! Remember the higher costs of running that government program earlier, how much money was being spent doing CT scans and x-rays on sick patients, it turns out the government pays a sum total less than what private companies have to pay, which forces the private companies to COMPETE against the government program. So in essence the reason the insurance companies prices are so high is because they want to make a profit, and thus want to cut the amount of use they have, which forces clinics and doctors to raise their prices to stay in business since insurance companies don't want to pay out in the first place. whereas under a government program a clinic or hospital is guaranteed to have a check and can't artificially raise prices without engendering the ire of a legislative body that can refuse to keep paying them. Mind you that the operating cost of a public system is roughly 3% of the operating cost of a private company, so the insurance companies are extremely bloated in how much they charge and make.)

INSKEEP: Let me just translate that. You’re saying that if a hospital provides a service, it’s
covered by insurance. Medicare, for example, would pay 20 percent less than WellPoint would
pay for a patient with the same service.

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Exactly. On average, the private sector subsidizes government programs by
approximately 20 percent.

INSKEEP: Oh, when you’re saying subsidizing, you’re arguing that that hospital makes up the
shortfall from Medicare by charging you a little bit more?

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Absolutely. It’s the hidden tax, the hidden cost shift.

( Some kind of hidden tax on a insurance company? Those guys hate spending money, why are we trying to take their precious dollars, because if we just stopped and got rid of all the cheaper government plans then the insurance companies would thank us and shower us with FREE health care, just like Goldman Sachs made a 3.1 billion dollar profit this quarter and as a thank you for the bailout they plan on giving us gold plated hoverboards that they'd been saving. I'm sorry but we don't exist in a thwarted Randian paradise where unfettered capitalism means that the capitalists will succeed in uniting and equally benefiting everyone, no in a system like that the executive and the board of directors buy twenty yachts while you are forced to live on mac and cheese for the rest of your bloated sack of shit life because you can't afford to climb the ladder with the rest of them, them being the people already born at the top. We can't all be rock stars or famous actors, the same can be said of executives or businessmen, we can't all be on wall street making billions, so telling me that our work ethic sucks and that if we'd all just work a little harder we'd all have private jets, or at the very least three houses. I'm sorry there's no more room in the tree house, the forst closed, now please go and die because we don't need you anymore, we already have your money. Insurance companies are always trying to paint themselves as a business one minute and a service the next, and that's what's fucking this up, they want sympathy, but don't want us to notice that they're just as bad as the bankers and commodities traders.)

INSKEEP: Given that lots of lawmakers are insisting on a public plan of some kind, but there’s
still some flexibility as to what kind of plan would be, is there any form of a public plan or a
government plan that you think WellPoint can accept, can live with?

Dr. NUSSBAUM: We’ve talked about the fact that a government plan is not necessary to
achieve the insurance market reform, the delivery system reform that is so necessary for
Americans. We do not believe there is any need for a government plan.

(Insurance market reform? You assholes have been saying that every damn time we want to have health care coverage for Americans, you say it so that we can pretend you are actually intent on fixing things, the only problem is that YOU ARE THE PROBLEM you fetid hippo shit! You don't want any competition because you're making shit tons of money, the sad reality is that it's hard to argue that as a capitalist society we need to protect you because every dollar you make is related to a human life. This isn't about taking money from bankers or Oil Tycoons, who deal in limited assets or other fungible bullshit, your trade is the health and safety of human beings, and when you cut a couple million peoples plans, or adjust their rates your deciding whether a disease or injury will kill them or not. Insurance companies have been switching up their system, raising deductibles, and putting the cost of procedures increasingly onto their own customers, there was a time where for every dollar you paid in insurance the company matched that dollar and ten cents, at this point insurance companies have shifted that, for every dollar you spend they pay 70 cents, and they would like that to get lower. Doesn't that seem kind of crooked, that maybe this company that's supposed to be providing you with a service is actually a way for you to provide them with a major financial windfall?)

INSKEEP: But I’m asking given the political realities of the situation, if somebody says to you,
‘OK, look, we know you don’t like it but tell us what you can live with,’ is there anything that you
can live with in this department?

Dr. NUSSBAUM: I think we have to look at the plans that exist today that are viewed as being
government plans. The federal employees health benefit program, that’s a plan that is managed,
that is run, that has all of the advantages of a private health insurance plan and we at WellPoint
are proud to provide benefits for 1.3 million federal employees under that program.

(Yeah, a lot like the military we decided it's pretty easy to sub contract out our insurance to Wellpoint, I don't see any conflict in interest with politicians and this arising.)

INSKEEP: It sounds like you’re basically saying, ‘Look, we just don’t want a government-run
health plan. We’re just not going to sign onto that.’

Dr. NUSSBAUM: That’s correct. However, I think the American people need to understand that
even the government health plan that has been most highly regarded, the government health plan that our senators and congressmen and president has access to is actually a plan run by the
private sector.

(Yes, because we don't have an actual government plan, because you wont let that exist. you know how these greedy pencil dicks keep saying "You don't want a bureaucrat coming between you and your doctor." Well guess what that’s what we have now. You see under a public system you go to whoever the fuck you want, you select your place of care, and go there, as it stands now you have to ask permission from your insurance company where you get to go, you have a CEO coming between you and your doctor of choice, that's the reality of the situation not the horseshit their trying to shovel off as facts. No seriously think about that, how is a bureaucrat coming between you and a doctor? Under a public system you go where you want for care and get the care you need, at no point do you have to ask permission to see someone or have an injury looked at, there is no "You can't se Dr. Johnson because he isn't covered under your plan." because there is no FUCKING PLANS, THEY ARE LITERALLY TRYING TO DESCRIBE THE PUBLIC OPTION IN THE SAME MANNER YOU WOULD DESCRIBE THEM!!!)

INSKEEP: Dr. Nussbaum, one other question, our correspondent Mara Liason had a report last
week that focused on the language politicians use, for example, when President Obama talks
about someone who is working with him, he’ll describe that person as a stakeholder, whereas if
they’re working against the White House’s agenda, they’re a special interest. I’m wondering if
right now you think you’re a stakeholder or a special interest.

Dr. NUSSBAUM: That’s a terrific question, Steve. I’d like to believe we are a stakeholder, that
we are collaborating strongly to produce and share our knowledge to produce health reform that
is sustainable, that produces high quality healthcare that makes the healthcare experience for all Americans as terrific as the clinical science and innovation that we have in America.

(You are contributing precisely twenty dicks in our collective American asshole)

INSKEEP: Sam Nussbaum is chief medical officer for WellPoint. Thanks very much for your
time.

Dr. NUSSBAUM: Thank you, Steve.

(FUCK OFF SAM YOU MOON EYED JACK RABBIT DIDDLER!)

If you're interested in how Insurance companies like to screw you in many other ways here's this awesome transcript from Billy Moyer, wherein a PR guy from CIGNA explains why insurance companies love you and hate the government, and by love 'you' I mean love your money.

http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/07102009/transcript2.html

Now I'm going to try and chill out and not have a huge aneurysm thinking about how in spite of the suprvillainesque evil insurance companies represent we aren't going to do anything about them because everyone is bought and sold for millions of dollar every day, except for FUCKING ME!

Last Person on Earth Meme...

I shall use it. Apparently this is making its circuit around the world as a meme, and I figure that so long as it's relatively fresh and interesting I'll add my own two cents. The question goes as such...

"You wake up tomorrow and every person on the planet has vanished. What do you do?"

The replies are:
Day One
Week One
Month One
Year One

Day One: Since tomorrows Tuesday I will have work, and I'll also have been sleeping in my apartment. The first hour or two will be odd, since I'll have gotten up and gone to my families, undoubtedly not noticing the lack of people. In my house I'll assume that my parents had gone off somewhere and will think nothing of it. Depending on my choice of actions and how our power grid works I'll either discover that there is no one around when I start scanning news stations and see that there is no one there, or perhaps if the power grid or Internet is down I'll find out when everything is off and I go outside. Regardless if the time gets close to when I need to go to work I'd attempt calling or messaging my associate Abe. I will feed my cat, as she will be the only one around.

There would be no answer, there would be no one to speak to. I would quickly discover that no one is picking up, and within an hour that there is no traffic on the street outside. I would become paranoid and fearful of some unforeseen disaster, attempting to analyze my previous night, hopefully pinpointing some event or action I took that would spare me yet seemingly eliminated everyone else. I would then arm myself and take a walk around the neighborhood, going to the local government center and marveling at the lack of security, but also fretfully acknowledging that there is no sign of anything, no uniforms and rumpled clothes laying where their owners were last standing, there is merely a void. Behind all of this will be a white knuckled terror, that I will be unable to shake, why did everyone disappear? Langoliers? A new weapon outside my ability to understand? Am I in a coma and this is my creation, a Silent Hill for me to occupy. I will live in fear of the sound of sirens and the sight of industrial rust, I will quake when night falls, waiting for the sound of clattering metal, clutching a knife or metal rod to myself in my dark house believing that I will self manifest Pyramid Head to annihilate me for my own tortured crimes against myself. However this will not be the case, because there is merely no answer, everyone is gone, I am alone, and there is no boogieman out to get me, unless you count the ones I can create for all the shadows and unseen corners of a room.

Week One: Depression will set in almost immediately, probably a soul crushing malaise will capture me during the first day once I realize everyone I care about is possibly dead or that I am and will never see them again. Knowing me however I will think of The Mist and determine that the real enemy is my own despair, that if I quit then it really will be over and I wont see anyone again. I will assume this is some form of insane test, and that I must survive to be reunited with humanity. Armed, dining on simple cold things, those things which are good out of a package and are still fresh from grocery stores I will take my haversack, cloaks and hats and set out for my friends Matt and Owens houses respectively. I will walk to Matt's in under an hour and break inside, acknowledging that property rights ceased to exist when everyone vanished, I will take his prized katana, sharp as my wit and then make for Owens house. At each place I will look for signs of life, some sign that possibly some relative or friend of mine survived as well, that perhaps I am somehow the center of some bizarre cosmic right of passage. At Owens I will break into his car and steal a book of survival techniques from the turn of the 20th century. I will get a leash for my cat, and we will begin walking and riding in cars to a new destination. I will worry endlessly over my cat and whether she'll get loose, and if so what she will do for food and shelter. The rest of the week will be spent walking and hiding at night, moving North towards Amanda and Derek's house. If within the week I arrive at Santa Barbara and have seen little more than birds and bobcats I will be forced to re-evaluate what is happening. Considering that once I reach my next friends house I will be able to undoubtedly determine that there is no one there, and that there is little chance that anyone is anywhere. I will eat little, drink whenever I can and sleep lightly, dreaming of friends and waking in a sickened depression.

Punishment, some unseen force, though not a God must be punishing either humanity or me, either I am a clerical error in a cosmic number crunch or the victim of some scheme or carefully concocted revenge by an entity I never knew existed. I will steal a copy of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, wishing I were Arthur Dent, hoping that Ford Prefect will show up and show me that Earth was merely an accident and that there are other 'people' alive elsewhere in the galaxy. I will look up and hope that this isn't universal. I will grab a towel, preferably green and stuff it in my haversack.

Month One: I will be thin and weak, I will worry too much, and spend too much time moving North. I will decide within the first two weeks to finish my plan, I am intent on moving to Portland, land of delicious salmon and majestic trees. I will drive when I can, stealing cars when I find them, I will find one that suits me and steal it decorate it, I will live in my own hollow version of the Road Warrior. Everyday will be a struggle and I'll go days without talking, in the evenings as I'm falling asleep I'll worry that I will lose language in time, through simple lack of use. Pressing on there will be many hard sights, familiar places and memories of friends now lost to the 'event'. I will instinctively hold onto the sword, convinced that in a cinematic sense the moment I release it I will find myself beset by monsters or wild men. I will not have smiled for weeks. On the way I will pick up apple seeds and plant them, becoming a modern Johnny Appleseed, I'll ponder if the missing can see me, if they're dead and are all watching me, wanting to see what I do. Perhaps they know what happened, perhaps they know there's a way to save them, bring them back. I'll spend long hours wondering if my intuition is leading me somewhere, if a subconscious narrative is forming, and if I'll be challenged to save them, everyone on the Earth. I'll fret over it, I'll battle with Hope, wishing it to go away so I could simply accept the grim reality of things and go on living for the pure bullheadedness of it. I will hope however that there is a chance to save everyone, even if I have to switch over and go into the nothingness they went into to bring them back. I will wish that I could simply be offered clear and simple a choice between not existing and everyone being back or remaining in this world with everyone missing. I will make it to Portland, and there will be no one around, I'll find Oriana and Stacie's house, and if I have used cars to get there I may be able to save their cats and add mine to the mix. I will stop wandering for a while, I will sit and stew. Gardens will spring up and I'll learn how to make fire and sow seeds, how to raise plants and fish.


Year One: I will either be alive, living off the land, devastated at the state of things, going mad with every passing day, clinging to pictures of friends so I don't forget their faces, or I'll be dead. I'll probably be an alcoholic, or merely someone who has nothing better to do than drink because otherwise he must sit and contemplate the miserable state of his life. I will be unhinged, fencing with shadows, shouting soliloquies from rooftops and tending the cats. Every morning I'll wait for the sound of a door opening and everyone coming home and I'll scratch my beard and long hair wondering what became of me. Of course at some time earlier I may have died, via sickness or accident, so many things coil around us that when left completely on our own could finish us off. I will go on living, hoping that I die peacefully, but preferably before I have to remove my own teeth Castaway style, or set my own bones if I break them.

I will be in a waking nightmare, but the cats will be okay and I'll take solace in that. I will patiently await everyone's return, or death, whichever finds me on the couch first.
How awful this was, how completely depressing. Please everyone, go and watch something humorous starring Steve Martin or someone of his ilk, and don't assume that this extremely nihilistic narrative is indicative of my own moods. I'm usually rather chipper.

Terror on a Holiday

Since I have to work today I shall make you work as well loyal readers. I shall keep a little diary of my hours here, like a guide to my afternoon and how I spend it during a holiday. You see everyone is gone today and except for a few dedicated souls in another building I am the only soul here. My duty is to inspect and keep secure every one of the five unoccupied buildings, walking their perimeters and inspecting their various closets and chambers. Naturally this can get both maddeningly boring and slightly unnerving as there has been a history of 'unusual' events here. But why waste your time with explanations of what is plainly obvious, I am alone at a large complex of buildings for eight hours, and I am here to tell you what happens in each of those as I wait for the clock to wind down.


15:00 hours, 3:00 PM: I entered the building with a book, which is strictly prohibited, you can't be seen inspecting or reading a book otherwise the illusion of professionalism will be wiped away. This however doesn't extend to using the Internet, as it's use is accepted and ignored, seemingly for no other reason than you can't prop the computer screen on your lap and lean back to view it. I brought the book along because I have developed a strategy to mete out my activities to fill the four hours at the end of my eight hour day. the first four hours of work is spent dealing with events around the office, after seven however the buildings are empty, thus the Internet is my only friend. To keep from exhausting my Internet however I opted to bring a book along to fill the time up more evenly.


My first order of business was to relieve the officer that was here during the day, and receive any additional instructions from him. There were none, save a notice that a laptop had been left out, a notice I was well aware of because I had reported it last night, and since this was a holiday there was no way the fellow had dropped by to fix his unknown mistake. With a few pleasantries I hurried my coworker out and seated myself behind the counter in the front office. Cracking my knuckles and raising my office chair to its maximum height I tapped away at the keyboard. Once i had checked my in office email for any events or important memos i was free to indulge in studying up on a topic or two before getting down to brass tacks. My area of study for roughly fifteen minutes was Haida art, the Haida being a tribe from the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately for me, either the Internet had no information about their art, or the strict search parameters set by the company were blocking all relevant searches. This has proven to be troublesome in the past as well, often when searching for information about painters or historic events I will find that everything is blocked or unreachable, generally accidentally. "The battle of Waterloo wasn't a video game, this isn't a video game website, it's a damned historical website you idiot box!" I would say. The attempt made by the company being one of saying "please don't look at video games or pornography while at work." Which is perfectly acceptable if the sites they blocked were actually related to either one, but more often than not they are accidentally blacklisted, whilst sites that really do need to be aren't. A search for Haida art yielded no results for actual Haida art, the few that were listed were then blocked by the companies own parser, and the one that wasn't turned out to be a woman's portfolio of self shot nudes, of which none of them had anything to do with the Haida.


Exacerbated I got up and went inside the building, I had to make sure the laptop was still sitting, untethered to its dock, sitting where it was left yesterday, sitting where no one would think to go for it, on an employees desk. We need to maintain a constant surveillance of such equipment in case corporate saboteurs sneak onto the premises and start making off with company secrets. My very presence here is a symptom of massive corporate paranoia.


I walked through the darkened aisles, between the cubicles of building E. You are probably wondering why it's so dark at three in the afternoon. Well, the short answer is that it's cheaper to keep the lights off when no one but me is here, this also goes for air conditioning and food. So proceeding up a darkened aisle, eyeing the distant double doors that lead to the lit hallway I catch a sound from behind me. I stop, look over my shoulder and casually lean over the sides of the cubicles closest to me, listening for any other signs of activity. Odd sounds tend to crop up at odd times here, and it's best for the guard on duty to ignore them, unless they want the painful surprise that there is never an answer as to what was making the sounds they heard. Of course I double my speed for the door, eager to leave the building, building E being one of 'haunted' buildings, wherein phantom typing can be heard from the far wing of the office, well away from the route I would take. Pushing open the door I turned to regard the vending machines, I was thirsty for something akin to a sierra mist or sprite and had a dollar in my pocket, saved from a pair of pants I was discarding the night before. I peeked to my right and gave a little bob of the head to see if anything was happening inside the atrium. Between buildings C and E is a strange tropical atrium, it's plexiglass windows old and scratched into a filmy grayish haze, the temperature perpetually ten degrees warmer than anywhere else in the building. At night golden lights would turn on at about knee level and illuminate the ferns and tropical leaves. This area too was haunted, the atrium was said to be the home of a very angry man, whispering can be heard inside it at night, and at times the feeling of being watched and followed is overpowering.


Turning from the atrium i made good time towards building D, where the laptop resides. i push my hands into my pockets, feeling the money in my left hand, the vending machine didn't offer any acceptable substitutions. i glance to my left, there is a pair of double doors that lead down a long hallway, flanked on both sides by more large doors. This hallway is usually pitch black, the doors often left open, leading into even more shadowy rooms. i rarely use this hallway, it always feels like there's something there waiting for me, that it creeps along behind me till I'm about to exit and because I quickly change my speed it is thrown off and returns to whatever corner it crawled out of. This time however there is something extremely unsettling about the hallway, the lights are on, bright white lights running the length of the corridor, banishing the shadows, even the rooms, with their yawning doors are lit up. I keep walking, it's obviously a trick, there is no reason for the lights to be on, there is no one there, ahead of me the lights are off, somewhere just ahead of where I'm going. high on the wall there i can see a mirror reflecting the hallway around the corner, the shadows are dark, but in the middle of the concave surface is more white lights, the hallway leaving the building is still illuminated. Before I'm forced to go into the shadows I turn to my left at another double door, this one leading into building D. I glance one more time down the hallway, leading into the shadows, and now it seems just a little bit further away than i remember, I click my card and push open the door.


I am pinned in place. The office lights are on directly around me, but past that the darkness extends to the far wall, where low lighting shows the exit rows more clearly. I am frozen because on the far side of the building, resting on a cubicle frame is something looking at me. At five foot nine I am too short to look over a cubicle wall without standing on my tip toes. Whatever stares at me rests an arm languidly over the partition between two, leaning forward, a large head tilts a little to the side, it is easily seven feet tall. I collect myself, my job is to ensure that there are neither intruders nor wendigos prowling my halls, so i begin walking with anxious fear towards the shape. I can remember the other times I went into building D when no one was working, the shuffling running sounds, moving up and won the aisles parallel to me, the sound of someone hurrying to head me off at the intersections, then when the moment of attack came silence. the lights detected my movement and kicked on, the figure was cast out in an instant, now not much more than an odd shaped balloon and streamers piled about a cubicle wall. This however was still unsettling, i hurried towards the opposite door from where I came in, the lights turning off again abruptly, everywhere I looked I could see balloons, and all of them seemed to be looking at me. I could almost feel it, when my back finally turned to them they would begin moving slowly forward, one aisle at a time, when I turn they seemed maybe a little closer, one would bob in an non existent current of air. I hurried down a short flight of stairs grabbed the handle and glanced over my shoulder to pin any that might be hurrying faster than the more patient terrors that sleep under the raised floorboards of the building.


Free, in the hallway closest to the bathroom, by the cafeteria I was free. No odd feelings, no unusual sounds, merely a hallway. I grabbed a sprite from the coke machine and made good time back to building E, entering from the opposing door, far from the one i had exited from earlier. This side of the office was darkest, and the hardest to get the motion sensors to trip on. I moved quickly surveying the surroundings watching for odd shapes or movement, I was on the home stretch and that's always when the floor falls out from underneath you. i looked to my left down an aisle of cubicles, all of it reassuringly black, nothing out of place, merely dark, at which point a shaft of light spilled out of a cubicle. It danced against the wall closest to it and i made sure to keep moving, there was no reason to go looking for trouble now. As I passed the break area I heard the sound of a door open and close and a muffled shout. I stopped and whipped around looking behind me for the culprit, an employee working on the holiday perhaps wanting to know if they could get back in after hours. No, it was no one, the door was closed, no one was there, just the absence of light. I rushed as quickly as I could back to the front desk, bursting through the door into the humid front office I sat down and began writing.


It was somewhere after the first paragraph that I heard the THUD beside me. In the office beside me, every so often you'll hear odd sounds, sometimes they even come into my area, except they're overhead, in the ceiling. Scrapping, wheezing thumps, shouts and bangs, much bigger than the ones a rat would make. That was the sound i heard when i started typing the second paragraph, a bang against the wall, and a muffled scream, like a woman yelping. I stopped typing and rushed into the building, i needed to make sure that everything was secure, that there was someone in the office. But when I got there, to the massive glass windows, looking into the pitch black meeting room all I could see was shadows and my reflection off the glass. I watched both, looking behind me int he reflection then changing my eyes focus to look into the abyssal room. Nothing, there was nothing there that could have made the sound, even now I hear it, the thump, no more screams or yelps, merely a thump, moving further from me, sometimes frighteningly close. I backed away from the glass, I backed away from the shadows, my spine against a filing cabinet, I moved with cautious steps back towards my lobbies door. When i needed to remove my back from the cabinet I turned, keeping as much of me away from the office as I could, keeping my eyes on the room on the other side of the wall from me. I crept back to the door and eased it open while looking out into the growing gloom of the office building. I sit typing now, the bangs and thuds are still there, squealing sounds come from outside and by the time I reach the door to see what could be causing them there is nothing. I remember having the doors locked, shut on a moonless quiet night, when abruptly they both pulled on their hinges, straining against their locks, shaking. Something was trying to open them violently and nothing was there. I watched as they heaved away to the night air and relaxed, after that the locks worked funny, they wouldn't bolt right, and the doors had to be replaced. So I sit here typing, waiting for the sun to set, waiting for whatever lives here, under the building, in the shadows and the vents, to come out and try to catch me again.

I'm Running, Police On My Back...

I keep running Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday! What have I done? What have I done?

To quote The Clash. Yes, I am on the run. From who, you might ask? Why none other than the management of my apartment complex. You see, for those of you who follow this blog you may have noticed I am intent on moving out of California as quickly as possible, fleeing if you will like a coward from the army, AWOL from my personal cultural army. I am through with this place, this town, I need room to breath, a chance for a better life in a town that could give a damn about me, instead of one that asks me to keep quiet.

Naturally there have been some...obstacles. Money is one, my visit cost me financially and has thus slowed my ability to collect enough cash to escape. Then my car went kablooie, meaning I have to move on foot, and the rules changed a little at work. The most important problem though is that due to repair work on my car (which shall now be scrapped) and a tow truck for it, plus a suit for a wedding, 300 dollars in spurious fees by my bank, and a few other miscellaneous expenses I am completely broke and probably slightly overdraft. This means no rent for July, which incidentally would be my last month anyway. So after depositing my thirty day notice I have decided to work as feverishly as I can to empty my apartment and hide someplace so my landlords can't come begging for more of my money. To be honest I am completely mortified of them, they have been pushy, sneaky, and nosy. They act like parents, asking me why my girlfriend left, what my plans are, where they can find me...the list goes on and on. On top of that they can be extremely threatening, in the way that says "Give us money or we'll make bad things happen to you!" and my only response is "Stop yelling, I don't have any money for you, nor will I be getting any." They act like I have a secret pot of gold hidden away from them, and I need to collect from it or they'll feed me to the bears.

It's that situation in movies that makes me exceptionally uncomfortable, where a character knows nothing of what's going on, or doesn't have what the antagonist is looking for and gets threatened or tortured to cough up aforementioned item. They're all like "I don't know, i have no clue what a positron collider is!" and the villain is like "Fuck you pal, I'll just jam some bamboo under your nails till you suddenly know, which will be NEVER!"
Anyway, because I am completely terrified of them, and don't want them threatening me when I explain that I don't have the money, and more importantly that I don't want to give them any money, because they scare me, and I don't give people that scare me money, I have started hiding. Yes I am hiding in terror, convinced that some clawed management type will swoop down and demand money from me, and if I don't have it right now they'll keep hunting me till I give them more money, or promise them money in the future. I hate giving all of these bullies money, when from the get go they kept trying to get me to leave, or scared away my potential room mates, and all the other rude little things they threw at me. I'm terrified and pissed off and I'm not going allow myself to be placed in a situation where they get some money.

So this morning I rose, nervous that they were on my doorstep watching for me, and as a result of this I crept silently along the floor till I got to the peephole. Flattening a hand against the door I leaned in, toes stretched in the hopes of keeping extra quiet. My eye moved into position over the peephole and flicked left then right, confirming that unless they were positioned right outside my line of sight they weren't there. I stealthily back to my room to dress, grabbing my work clothes in the process, my mind plotting a course, one that was unlikely to draw attention, and also would conceal me from my crafty opponents. Returning to the front door I took the bolt in my hand and gave it a quick turn then lifted on the handle to keep the door from catching and sending a reverberating sound through the next door and down stairs apartments, because who knows, perhaps they were waiting in the downstairs apartment, eager to swallow my head, while simultaneously picking through my wallet. With the door open and no one outside I was well positioned to make a break for one of two alleys that lead to my families house on the far opposite side of the complex. With swift feet I peddled down the stairs, knowing that if a maintenance cart came by I would be helplessly trapped. Fortunately no cart came and I carried on down an adjoining alley, till I reached an intersecting driveway. Another wide open space, the street curled up and away on both sides, providing a little coverage, but if a cart came it would be too late by the time I heard it. Gathering my wits I ran as quickly as I could to the opposite alley and proceeded cautiously forward. Alley by alley, i made my way to my families, each time I came to an opening I would drop and peek my head around a corner, then proceed on cautiously. In time I was safely inside my families, a space with plenty of closets and drawers I could scurry into if the landlords showed up breathing fire and looking for me.

Eventually though I would have to leave the safety of this place, go out into their territory, open myself up to capture again. I could sense them, they were waiting for me out there, dead eyes fixed on the house wondering where the phantom tenant who owed them money was, somewhere, miles away on a breeze you could almost hear the words "just take the deposit and leave me alone." As the time grew close I trusted my ride to simply pull up and contact me, allowing me the minimum of time to get there and get away. However once 2:30 rolled around I worried and felt compelled to sneak out the back door and slink my way up to the front driveway looking for him. I crept up the back way, away from the windows of the front office, I could picture all future paycheck flying away, Ventura laughing maniacally in the background, punching me in the ribs while Santa Barbara and LA tied me to a chair. I moved along the side on an apartment and made my way to a sidewalk, then plopping myself down I waited, watching anxiously for my confederate to come and get me out of there. As I watched the school bus arrived, dropped off it's cargo of children, parents waiting at the ready, then it eased forward and began to leave. At roughly this same moment one of the landlords came charging out of the office, on a trajectory angled towards a tenant who had just gotten out their car.


"Shit!" The word leaped up and out of my mouth, I vomited expletives as i tumbled backward and down a grassy hill away from where I saw the landlady. I was in a dither, I pressed myself against the closest apartment wall and inched towards the alley next to the parking garage. I leaned slowly forward and watched to see if the first landlady was headed back for the office or was pursuing the shadow she caught of the corner of her eye, the shadow that seemed to owe her money. Nothing, no one was there, I knew though she was out there and my heart crept into my throat as I pictured her walking along the sidewalk at the front of the building, while I stared out the back, could see her now, turning the corner and spying me, at which point I would melt away and promise her months of paychecks, months of indentured servitude anything to keep her from using a stern voice and threatening me with hard time or worse, disappointment. Abruptly, out of nowhere, the second landlady appeared lumbering towards where the first one had been.


"Fuck!" I expelled another expletive as I leaped from the alley to the wall overlooking the dumpster, I teetered a bit then fell forward into the enclosure between wall and garbage receptacle. Now I pictured them both hunting me, eyes furtively searching every inch of ground, until I was discovered. Fortunately, although they knew quite a bit about me they did not know that I was a champion at hide and seek, untraceable Trebaol as it were. I crawled towards the dumpster, pulling out my phone 'where the fuck is Abe?' I pondered, he was late and as such I was now in danger. I plinked away at the tiny keypad, beseeching him to hurry, to skip his regular stopping spot and head for the back gate of my families house, just past the dumpster I was hidden beside. I glanced up at the alley just over me, did I try to press myself against the wall just below it and hope that in a quick search they wouldn't look at their own feet, or did I simply take my chances and play an ace only I could play by climbing in the empty dumpster, it would be through underestimating my fear and zeal for hiding that they would lose me. Thinking twice about both plans I moved back towards the alley and wall and peeked around the corner. the whole office staff was now arranged in a neat circle at the end of the alley, chit chatting. I hadn't been noticed, I had escaped at least temporarily!

I turned and ran as quickly as I could towards the back gate of my families house, carefully opening the door and ducking behind the grill. Abe still hadn't arrived, he texted me back and seemed perplexed as to where he needed to be.
"In the back, behind the house, go to the back alley!" I shouted in a restrained murmur, watching through the cracks of the fence. finally his Volkswagen GTI slid into view, stopped at the end of the driveway. 'Perfect' I threw open the gate and ran headlong towards the car, praying no one was coming, that the maintenance truck wasn't on its way at that moment, ready to identify me, ready to spill the beans as to where I had crept off to, ready to wreck months of intended hiding. I grabbed the handle and glanced won the driveway, there, at the far end, shining in a sickening white was the maintenance pickup truck. I was in full uniform, a black and white target, pinned against a wall. I slammed the door and Abe began to pull forward.


"Not that way!!! Turn around, right, right, right!" I shouted, crouching in the seat, I knew I had been seen, at least I could assume I had been seen. My only hope was that the day workers hadn't bothered to notice my regular uniform i wore in the late afternoon. I prayed that I was imply an anomalous sight, some strange event like deja vu or a previously unseen bird swooping by. "For the love of Pete get me outta this place!" I shouted again. Glancing behind me I could see the truck was gone, had it been there at all? Was I cracking up under the pressure of hiding all the time? The GTI rolled onto the street and sped away for my work, where no one could find me for eight hours.


Tonight when I return home I will remain awake. I will stalk the alleys and garages of the complex with impunity, everyone will be asleep and I will be free to move about unmolested. I will use this freedom to open my apartment and empty out it's contents, in time hopefully leaving it bare, leaving an abandoned husk for them when they finally beat down the door with dollar signs in their eyes. I will move with speed, and regret no loss, so long as I am not caught. I have lost quite a bit in the past few years, but on this I will win! I will laugh all the way to Portland while the slavering crowds in Ventura smash coconuts over their heads, demanding to know who let me slip out of their grasp! Ventura will throw everything at me, the town is trying to kill me and will succeed if I'm not craftier than it is. I'm certain you must all think I'm crazy to think that a city would actively try to eliminate a favorite son in such a manner, but I assure you, beyond a shadow of a doubt if it's not the city that's trying to kill me it's the whole freakin' planet. The moment I find a nice place to live...WHAM! Car trouble, bank trouble, house trouble, job trouble, every possible iteration of trouble all comes sliding down the chute, the world becomes a fetid fish cannery of misery, all in the hopes of crushing the spirit of a single person so they won't try hard enough to break free of the madness surrounding them in a state called California. I think for Southern Californians the biggest trick we played on ourselves is believing that this is all worth it here. The grinding financial degradation, the lack of culture, leave SoCal to the rich, let them sip their champagne and frolic on their beaches while the rest of us take on three jobs, I say shove it SoCal, I'm outta here! Go ahead and try and stop me, nothin's worked yet!