(ART BY MENTALLY ILL VOLUNTEER)
.”is that, that painting called “the potato eaters”?” Asked Carolyn, as she looked at my latest blog entry. “No,” I answered her, taking a lot of pain killer for my joints, “it’s called “very crazily colored painting by very crazily – colored artist”, why do you ask?” “Nothing,” she finally replied, giving it up.
I had just been trying to call the long-distance number for the post office, trying to get my package rerouted so it would be picked up at my local post office, instead of being delivered to me on a day when I couldn’t stay home to get it. It actually took me two hours, calling and calling, and calling and waiting on their wait line,before the long-distance post office said, “no, you have to call up your local post office to arrange for them to keep your package there so you can pick it up.”
Thanks so much, federal post office department!the next time any of the states decide to secede from the union, and become independents, countries, themselves, I’ll remember this, and support them.they couldn’t be any worse getting a hold of individual post offices, at individual tiny countries post offices, any worse than our own big federal post office. So what the hell?
Back to the pony express, YAHOO!
besides the fact that Trump was running for president on the Republican ticket of, “I am just so much better than Obama could possibly be, and I’ll probably get rid of Obama care –” there wasn’t much chance that Obama could one up him. Not that I like Republicans or believe them, it was just that, all my experience with Obama and Obama care, was pretty much similar to dealing with a autistic three-year-old boy, who didn’t realize the world was round, and usually spent most of his days holed up in a ball in a drain pipe.
there was no doubt at this point that ANYONE could do the presidency better than Obama, and maybe not lie so much as well. – – Plus, “INACTION” was Obama’s middle name. Who could do worse than that?
HILLARY!! HILLARY! ONE TWO – THREE – HILLARY! (LOL)
Caroline was saying, over a cold drink,while all this manure was being discussed, “I can’t find any REGULAR WATERMELON!” With a sob. “That’s because,” I replied, swigging down awhiskey and pineapple juice, “there IS NO REGULAR WATERMELON anymore! I found that out myself, I can’t find them either. There is nothing except seedless genetically manipulated watermelon!”
“AND,all the seedless watermelon taste like crap, like cardboard, no sweetness, no flavor, nothing that leads me to think it’s a piece of fruit. And NOBODY has any regular old-fashioned watermelon now! I never thought I would get so old, I would see the death of watermelon. But that’s what happened. “
“These things we are supposed to call watermelon, taste like flavorless turnips.”
“I have lived too long,” I replied, sitting down very hard. “When a woman can run for president, and I refuse to vote for her; watermelon all tastes like-year-old turnips; the Republican might get into the White House, just because the present Commander-in-Chief was ALSO ACTING like a year-old turnip rotting away in a deathly bad old garden.
“–Any of our diplomats or officials overseas are no longer physically safe because our federal government refuses to send troops to rescue them, and China can just zonk right into all the federal employees’ records and all information, just by using a couple of XBOXES.– – because the federal government’s computers are no longer able to stop them or to encrypt all the information.”
“are you trying to call us a Third World, or fourth world, or even a fifth world country,now?” Asked Carolyn, slurping some more pineapple juice/Whiskey. “yes, I guess I am,” I said, yawning in the heat of the day. “Then,” replied Carolyn drowsily, “you’re absolutely correct. We’re more like some desert in Africa, then any United States I ever heard of. – – And I bet they’ve got better watermelon then we do now,also! “
talk about having the worst of both worlds, instead of the best. High tech watermelon, low-tech, Washington DC.nobody had their priorities straight.
not that Eugene, or Lane County had its priorities straight, either. The Oregon Legislature decided to ignore the Oregon drought, in favor of making all the guns in Oregon completely ill legal, or registered, or, if they passed another cute little anti-firearm bill, requiring you to take out federal insurance on your firearm, or face a $10,000 fine if you didn’t.
okay, that was another Obama – Bill against firearms. How was it supposed to help us keep from getting invaded eventually by ISIS,which was rushing its way through every country it encountered, heading eventually for our shores?so that any ISIS , secret agents hidden in America, would have a very tough time paying the insurance on their firearms, thus rendering them disabled?
Caroline looked out at my backyard, and all the huge amounts of overgrown blackberry bushes, high weeds, and high grass, and asked me “aren’t you ever going to get your junky yard cut, ever, this summer?” “Are you volunteering?” I replied, looking for the whiskey bottle, and the lemons, and a CD of “baby doll”. “NO,” replied Carolyn hissing at me, “I just want to know if you’re going to finally get declared totally ill legal by the County, and get your whole place condemned?! It would definitely happen!”
“yes,” I sighed, “I know it’s going to happen, I just don’t have the money to do it, and all my joints are in so much pain, I can’t make up a huge amount of oxbow, and go out and spray them all myself right now. And don’t tell me to hire high school kids, they refuse to do that work anymore! They all want white-collar jobs in offices tapping on keyboards, even for the summer!”and I turned and looked at her – – “and don’t say I should hire a bunch of Mexican or Latin American wet backs, ill –legally, because all I have to do, is hire some poor, unemployed schnook -adult who can’t get a job here to save his life!”
“so, continued Caroline, looking up at the sun with one hand over her eyes, tentatively, “I think you’re probably going to let all the bushes, weeds, grass, and even the blackberry bushes DIE in the heat of the sun, in July instead, are you? So you don’t have to kill them yourself? Like some third world or fourth world peasant who has no money, has gotten old, and still is required to kill the weeds on his place by his dictatorship?”
“YOU GOT IT!” I said happily, finding the whiskey bottle, and making myself a lemonade and whiskey sour. “Welcome to the new third and fourth and fifth world country!hi Tec watermelons, and low-tech people! Low money, low politics, low action, and most of all low ethics and morals!Brazil is sending all of its unwanted criminal-peones to Oregon, I hear, because that countries getting too high tech filled with middle-class jobs, and hard up Europeans! Oh, and also lots of Chinese.”
“EVERY COUNTRY has lots of Chinese now,” replied Caroline, finally remembering to put on her sun–hat, although her nose had already burnt to a crisp. “They’re everywhere except in China. The only Chinese in China, are the ones who can’t afford to get out, and the ones who were running the factories.” She looked at me quizzically. “Is it true you’re trying to make some business deal with Ali Baba, the Chinese business website? What the hell are you up to? You’re not going to get some little tiny factory to manufacture quilted checkbook covers for you, are you? And sell them on eBay? Are you that much of a copycat?”
“NO! NO!”I replied vehemently, throwing the whiskey bottle into large blackberry bush, now that it was empty. “I’m not doing that at all! It’s a completely new invention, it’ll make us wealthy!” And Carolyn looked at me with the sick look in her eye, as this, “he finally gone off her rocker for good!”
“it’s just this,” I said, picking up a knife and slicing off a long length of blackberries vine, and shredding off all the leaves and thorns, and showing it happily to Carolyn. “I’ve invented a way to make shepherds hooks, ear rings, out of the matter of Oregon blackberry vines, the don’t have any metal in them, and are completely allergenic! They’ll revolutionize the ear wire industry! I just have to get some factory in China, to take all the vines, and manufacture the ear rings out of them! You could hang anything you want from ORGANIC – BLACKBERRY – VINE – EAR – WIRES!” I can hear Caroline gasped behind me.
“Sandramina,”she said my name slowly, as if trying not to scare me or upset me. “Maybe we should take you on some kind of vacation, like an ocean cruise to Alaska? Maybe you’ve been thinking too hard lately?and all that cold would take down the inflammation of your brain? What do you think?” I didn’t pay any attention to her, I kept talking about my new invention, ORGANIC – EAR––WIRES!
For women who could not wear any kind of metal in their ears! And MEN!ANYBODY could wear organic ear wires, even little babies, because they were made out of any kind of metal anymore! Not even titanium! And whoever heard of an Oregon blackberry vine hurting somebody’s ears? No way!
“you can’t take me, Hillary will hear about this! HILLARY will save me! I’m a feminist, Hillary loves feminists!Hillary loves all working people, middle-class, and all the good people of America! She’s going to get into office and reward us all! She’s going to get rid of BenGhazi, she’s going to get rid of Isis, she’s the GOOD FAIRY! she should’ve gotten into office, instead of Obama, she would’ve fixed all the whole country by now!”
– – I yelled, as the guys in white jackets from the mental health department, dragged me away, while I was wearing a very nice, totally locked up white jacket myself. Carolyn got in the back of the ambulance, and held my hand. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay,” she said soothingly,”it’s just the heat of the summer in this drought,the strain of not having any good watermelon anymore,not being able to vote feminist, and having your country designated fifth -rate-below Africa and Canada and the Sahara Desert, and smelling all the high=potency pot blowing off your new neighbors’ porch next door”, finished Carolyn.
“OH,” added my friend, “also having your latest chiropractor leave the United States, for Australia, and not being able to find another one in the United States on Medicare. That could be a lot for ANY SENIOR with back problems, having to put up with, and wigging out on narcotic painkillers, and newly bought marijuana – derivative – pain products.” Carolyn nodded sadly, as they took me away. “Was she ever be okay again?” She asked, but they looked at her and replied, “WAS SHE EVER ALL right?”
that’s a hard question to answer, if you live in Oregon, home of the fifth rate, fifth world – country and state, and even the Sahara desert is starting to look a lot better for watermelon than here.
(Sandraminadotty, being written for by her best friend, Carolyn, who is noncompus-mentis-temporarily, probably in the slightly disturbed wing of peace health Hospital, as it’s way too hot and way too dried out, and way too “Third -World -country to the- max.” In Eugene, Oregon. no longer the home of summer fruits and vegetables; cuz we only get ours from Mexico, Chile,Latin America, New Jersey, and Baltimore now.
Nobody DOES ANYTHING in Eugene, Oregon, or Lane County now, except steal transportation-grants from the fed. govt. and use them to land-blast-all the business and sidewalks on 7th Ave., take all the traffic off, and put a big green bus on 7th; so all the rush-hour traffiic will spill over onto 3 lanes, hit passengers, and conjur gridlock for 3 hrs. that is usually only ONE HOUR!!
CELEBRATE EUGENE!! WE GOT THE DUMBEST COUNTY, THE MOST RUTHLESS MAYOR, AND THE MOST CHICKEN-SHIT VOTERS AND TAX-PAYERS IN THESE HERE CRUMBLING U.S. STATES!! and no watermelon, fruit, produce, or MAIL!!!
HAIL THE PACIFIC-NORTHWEST-FLOOSIE-STATE!! “HOOKERS-R-US-WE VOTE THEM INTO MAYOR!!”…