Everything I Love Has Been Taken from Me

1. First Mc'D's removed the supersize fountain soda from their menu in a draconian measure to prove themselves more health conscious--who in gods' name was sold on that one--and far more obviously, to increase profits by reducing our volume buying.

2. Next Joss Weedon programming was removed form the airwaves. (Am I glad no one is reading this—confessions of an emotionally retarded escapist...)

3. Then while completely motionless in front of a red light, some #^$^&%^^&* set of evil p.d.y.'er triplets nailed the Justy. (As if I needed another reason to hate the culture destroying bastards.) The body shop guy has indicated that if the value of the damage exceeds the value of the car they will take the Justy from me. By that logic a broken mirror would qualify the Justy for destruction. After the successful factory transmission replacement of the early 2000's such a response seems barbaric and unjustified.

Can I refuse the insurance claim and keep the car? Can I take my case to court arguing that the car is a dependent? What about my plans for art car semiretirement? Have I been collecting bags full of plastic toys for naught?

I can’t breathe when I contemplate life without my shinning turquoise blue gem. I had been so sure of our glorious end TOGETHER---turquoise blue streak marking the way to our final cement, metal, blood, flesh, silicone adhesive and plastic toy end.

I try to consol myself by imaging a new life in Montreal. I suppose I could learn French for the move to public transport. (And of course better pastries). I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave since the election. But these are all futile attempts to keep the crushing grief and despair at bay. I breakdown crying, cursing the vicious fate that works toward our final separation.

Last night I stood by TFJ in the moonlight. The damage was severe, the body racked into crumpled and skewed disfigurement. I could only imagine the internal damage. Only the dash remained unwounded. It still glowed with a lifetime of promise, of our journeys and adventures together, speeding as one toward the setting sun. And I wondered how I could ever leave.

I am deeply despondent.

The unknowing scoff at my loss and devastation. I cannot fault them for their lack of sympathy or even understanding. This world is empty of passion.

I can’t stop crying….....

IntotheVoid

As an X-er (beginning to think there are 5 or so of us) who has spent way too much time with Silent Gen types (it's them or the pestilent swarm of Y/0's--not a choice really *) I have fallen off all technology interface. This pathetic excuse for a blog** is an opportunity to at least look at a website format for more that 3 seconds. I can only hope that this activity and the lack of cable will provide me a brief but important distraction from the lure of the demon seed. ***

If you should be the one odd individual who stumbles upon this site by a few bad character strokes please continue on. You like the folks at SETI have caught a stray bounce back transmission--this is not a sign of intelligent life. This is not one of those hopelessly irrelevant "news from the family front" updates sent to family and friends. This is not an invitation to online wackos to have endless conversation about what "computogirl really said" three posts back. You have reached the wrong address.

My crazy Aunt Betty had often said that the beauty of our Holiday dinner (lunch in PA) discussions is that we never let a discussion wither due to lack of information. These postings will be chock full of unsubstantiated and horrendously uninformed rant and raves! They will also be characterized by:

1. Unbelievably bad grammar and spelling further abetted by my inability to type. (I spelled grammar with an "e" before my first spell check run.)

2. A complete lack of those grade school English cornerstones -- coherence and unity

3. An absence of subject matter of any import and relevance

4. No prose style whatsoever.

Again, you have found the wrong page

* Please note: I blame the Y/0 Generation for most of our Cultural/Fashion/Entertainment woes-something along the lines of, "...the scourge of our modern world, cultural cannibals manufacturing creatively devoid pastiche for empty souls in a world devoid of promise, where compassion is foreign, authentic expression unknown and a great pop song never to be born again..." and always ending in "This is not the world I was promised!"

** But aren't all blogs just pathetic narcissistic exercises. Why in #$&& would anyone really care that the Jones' have a new puppy and Sally has begun her first day of school. I really think this is the final end form of the brain addled local news/talk show audiences.
No one cares.
We are alone.
I'm ready for Rilke now.

*** The TV-How I love It!!!!!!

My Beloved Justy

I must soon leave to stroke a check for 10X's the actual worth of the 3 cylinder go-cart of my heart's devotion. The anticipation of our reunion is almost more than I can bear!

I waited hours for this, I made my self so sick...(Name that Tune.)

Odes of the ecstatic Justyphiliac to follow....