Finally a chance to wear that Hawaiian Shirt I got from Aunt Helen

I am always looking for new places to dump trash. Lardass gave me an idea last week at the Monthly Dumpf*cks Ideas meeting when he said - "Hey, why don't we just dump all the crap into a live volcano? Is it break time yet?"

The idea was sheer genius and pure Lardass: simple direct and impossible. I looked on a map and the nearest volcano is in New Jersey. But the idea was seductive and eventually I thought of the Hawaiian Islands. Now that would make a perfect dumping spot, because most of the islands are uninhabited stretches of rocky lava slopes and beach sand. A perfect junkett.. A scouting trip that can be expensed to the dump research budget - and a few days of sun and surf.

Try not to hate me. I know you are stuck in the doldrums of a ghastly winter and I am wending my way to a warm beach in Hawaii. Let me remind you that though you may be miserable, cold and sick, please try to have some empathy for me: stuck on a so-called island paradise in 78-80 degree weather, with nothing to do but to sightseeing, snorkeling in the lagoon and hanging around the lanai bars, inundated by young tanned buxom women who are wearing practically nothing. How is that supposed to be fun?

Pity me. You get to go to work everyday, catching-up on the news in your car radio while stalled in traffic, arriving late under the friendly and understanding hawk-eye of your manager. And your coworkers, sure they may be petty, back-biting shits, but they are your shits - team-mates and soul pals. And while you are getting the love from your social network, here I will be with hardly anything to do, out of the range of electronic signals, forced to meet new people many of whom are wearing skimpy outfits, and no one to talk about the news with, because all they care about is their freaking tans!

I’m telling you this is going to be a hellhole. And the worst of it is, this goes on for a month! Crikey! Who the heck can afford to stay in Hawaii for a month?

So I may be er too busy to keep posting while I'm on the road, but keep checking back just in case. I love those flower wreaths that they put around your neck. I think my first question to the cabby will be “Hey, where does a guy go to get leied around here?”

Videotaping The Competition

I was sitting in the Hummer in the parking lot of the Starbucks (where I often stop on my way to work), sipping my Vente Verona and reading the newspaper that I had stolen from the stack of papers when the clerk was looking the other way. I know what you are thinking: If you can afford the Hummer then you should be able to afford the paper. Well suck on this factoid, dude: The Hummer was stolen too! Hah! Not that anyone who is alive today is going to report it stolen... if you gather my meaning.

Look, go ask Obama how he got his house - Ask Hillary about how she made a skillion in the market - Ask McCain how he got rich as a US Senator... the facts is: when you have power opportunities sometimes come your way to acquire things... You don't ask questions.

When you run a busy suburban dump, certain people seek you out and start talking about how "one hand washes the other..." - unless your name is Lardass (he hasn't washed his hands since Bill Clinton was in office, "getting his ashes hauled by at least the one intern in a blue dress, lying under oath, dismantling the military, giving secret technology to China." as Clooney likes to remind us.) Anyway the point is that you do favors for people and... well, one day you have the keys to a new Hummer. It's the way life works.

So, I guess some day, I should tell you about how I came to be driving the Hummer. Some day.

Not today. Today I had this huge idea while I was reading the freshly purloined copy of the Globe Sports section. I was searching in vain for a piece on Bull riding, which has become the fastest growing non-team, spectator sport involving bovine animals in America (at least by the 23 fans who attended the rodeo in Worcester last week. The previous year only 10 fans came to the event so that is a 30% increase, if my math is correct.)

Browsing, idly while sipping and munching on the pumpkin cake free samples that I grabbed, my attention was caught by an article bemoaning last year's flap concerning the New England Patriots who were caught red-handed filming the defensive signals of the opponents. The writer of the article wanted the readers to "get over it." I was just about to think, Dude, It might be easier if you news whores would stop writing about it.

And that's when I had this killer idea. Eureka! I need video of competitors' dumps. How can I expect to keep my facility "State of the Art" when I don't know the state of the other guys' dumps?

When I arrived at the FEMA trailer that I call my office, I was excited to tell the crew about the idea. Strangely enough the usual gang was out working when I arrived. Achmed the new guy was sweeping up, sucking around the boss like most new guys do, looking for more work so he could show-up the rest of the crew.

I handed him the old recycled Super Eight (millermeter) camera and told him to go out and get some footage of some of the other local dumps. Natick, Needham, Newton.

"What ever you say, dude. " he said as he grabbed the camera and headed out the door.

I yelled. " ...and stop going around calling everbody 'dude.' It makes you sound like a damned Valley Boy." He grimaced. I'm sure he didn't know what a valley boy is, but it sounded kind of unmanly. He was raised in Kabul under Taliban rule, so anything that smacked of androgeny was both feared and loathed.

This was his first job since sneaking into the USA. He had been hired to replace Clooney while he was out for the "operation." After Clooney returned, unexpectedly, I did not have the heart to fire him, so I found enough work for both of them to do. It was easy to fudge the budget for the first few months, since I paid Achmed in Canadian dollars. Now the shit was beginning to hit the fan, because the dollar has fallen and - according to my calculations the Looney is now the bull goose currency - having increased by about 30%.

"And for Chrissakes, don't let them catch you with the camera!" I yelled.

Progress

A 14th century inventor, Irving Pascal, noticed that the drains on sinks were too big. People were constantly losing babies when they pulled the plugs after bathing the infants. He proposed smaller drains, and of course now we seldom hear of a baby actually being thrown out with the bathwater. This my friends is progress.

The Strike is Nearly Over

It occurred to me that I could explain the dearth of creative prose lately by pretending that I was "witholding my essense" in sympathy with my brother and sister writers.

But that would not have fooled you, would it? So I may as well admit that I have just been lazy-busy lately with more rewarding activities.

The term "crazy-busy" is the title of a book about people who live lives of frenzy and distraction.

Lazy-busy is a nicer term, describing people who drift from breakfast to lunch to nap to dinner to bed and get 8 hours of restful sleep. We fill our time with satisfying experiences, meeting friends, going to lectures, languishing at the library, drinking coffee at Starbucks while reading the entire paper... that sort of thing.

Who the hell has time to lay his ink stained soul out on the rack of public opinion where mooching freeloaders get to read it free of charge?