Musk’s Tesla to stay in space for millions of years

That’s what you think. I’m going up to get it. I’ve always wanted one of those things.

Have you seen The Astronaut Farmer (2006)? Billy Bob Thornton? Based on the true story of a farmer who built a dad-gummed rocket in his barn and then (spoiler alert) flew it up into space.

Well get this. I’m a farmer, I live nearish to Houston where all the space stuff is, and I own the Astronaut Farmer dvd. Done deal.

Maybe Musk will want his car back, you say. Tough ti… tough patootie. You can’t park a car in space for a million years and expect it to just sit there. Your insurance isn’t going to pay off if it’s stolen. It’s reckless driving or something. The insurance companies will always get you on some technicality or other. When I bring the car back, I’m not even going to insure it. I’ll just drive it around on the farm.

This rumor about there being a body in the trunk, one of Musk’s enemies? I doubt it’s true but if it is and I find it, I’m going to leave it up there. Not bringing it back. It’s dead weight.

I assume that Musk left the keys in the car.

I was also reading that there is a ton of “space junk” up there, but get this. It’s not junk. It’s all kinds of equipment and satellites and stuff that they can’t or won’t go up and retrieve, so they call it junk to avoid embarrassment. I might snag a thing or two in addition to the car.

I saw a picture of an astronaut sitting in the car, waving. If I find anybody in it when I get there, I’ll just politely tell them to get out. Everybody at church tells me I’m a real diplomat but I will not compromise where the car is concerned.

my socks

When I buy a pair of socks, I mark one left and one right. Either new sock could be a left or a right before I mark them! It’s like they are being born when I open the package and then I tell them which is male and which is female. I always say it out loud while I am marking. Once marked, they are male or female for life unless I decide to change the markings.

I have different feelings about left and right socks. Every so often I will put a left sock on my right foot. Once a year or so I will put a right sock on my left foot. I always mention this at confession but my priest never offers an opinion. I cannot see his socks; his cassock hangs too low.

When I was a teenager and then in my early twenties, I would have trouble finding a matching left and right pair in my sock drawers. If I found two that matched in color, they would both be right or both be left. I missed more trains that way, searching.

After the fire, when I needed all new socks, I bought only one brand (Vulvue), one type (wool, over-the-calf, ribbed), and one color (brown). I keep the lefts in one set of drawers and the rights in another set on the other side of the room. I wash lefts and rights separately. I use fewer drawers for the lefts because I like to squeeze them in together. The rights get more room but sometimes I will ball two of them up, one inside the other. Once I balled up three. I haven’t told my priest about this.

When I was thirty, I hurt my right foot and had to wear a cast. By the time it came off, the left socks were more worn than the rights. I had to get rid of all of them and start over. I packed them in a mini-fridge delivery box and put them down next to a homeless person at the station. I told him that one of the socks had a ten-dollar bill in it, so that he would not throw them all away. It was really only one dollar but I wasn’t sure that would provide sufficient motivation for him.

I have some fuzzy warm cotton socks for cold nights in bed. I keep these on a shelf in my closet, in a box I call “the harem.”

I notice socks on others. Most seem unhappy.

 

 

Can Humankind Avoid Its Biological Destiny?

Don’t like the sound of that. I know what my biological destiny is. Why would I avoid it?

I’m 28. Have not fulfilled my biological destiny yet. Came close twice but one time I said something stupid and the other time the girl’s dad banged on the wall.

What’s wrong with my destiny I ask you that. I hold no brief against those other destiny types in our time but mine is still the most popular ain’t it? It always was in my neighborhood growing up. All my mates did their destiny before they were proper adults didn’t they? In the proper way. On top I mean.

Father Sean don’t agree but he would disagree would he not? His destiny ain’t getting fulfilled any more than my own unless he would take up something like Father Jules has done devil take him.

I took a vow after getting knocked about in the destiny department by girls I fancied and there were many. I took a vow solemn as my soul that I would never pay for it. That was to be my destiny. Do not explain bloody humankind to me or the world’s oldest profession. My biological destiny is waiting for me at The Crown and Pig and I will not avoid her God willing.

I’m Back.

Just returned from Nameria on the Dark Continent. Thanks, Danny, for minding my blog.

My trip went smoothly. There was a coup but that isn’t unusual in Nameria. The businessman is treated with respect by both sides. Money is money.

The hotel has a new chef, a German woman. She works in Schnitzel vom Schwein. Wild pig is plentiful in Nameria.

I looked up Adebowale. He is in fine fettle. The Namerians are wonderfully modern where homosexuality is concerned. Once my business was concluded in the capitol, we paddled a dugout up the Okatawanga to his (all male!) village. The dugout and his village required much more of my energy than my transactions with the government did. Whew.

The country is warmer than before. The Bolanga plateau has become a desert. Who know whence the animals fled, if they have survived at all.

Favored bloggers, you’ll be receiving my postcards with their rare Namerian stamps afixed to them. Be patient, for they must come out of the country by elephant, just as I did.

Birthday!

I’m 21 today. Happy birthday to me.

All growed up lol.

In three days I’ll be a U. S. Marine. Oorah!

Shouldn’t say that yet. Don’t have the right.

At last I’ll be living and working with real men and women.

The Corps will knock the vinegar out of me, the sooner the better. My mom already gave me the haircut. She was afraid if I came home and she wasn’t used to it, she might embarrass herself.

I’ll be starting out fixing jet planes. I never had any luck with mechanical stuff but they teach you. Is a jet mechanical? Propellers are, but jets seem more like rockets. Are rockets mechanical?

I’m doing some push ups, but maybe I should save my strength. If i flush out of training, or whatever they call it, I’ll never get over it. I guess I’d join the Army next but it wouldn’t be the same.

I’ve got an old movie about drill instructors at Paris Island. Jack Webb is the top one. I turn up the sound to get used to all the shouting. I don’t know what the rules are going to be about iPhones and iPads and so forth. They’ll let me know. Probably while calling me “maggot.”

This will also be my first time outside of Valdosta.

Wish me luck!

Diary 01/11/18

Walking along a freeway frontage road today at noon.

Acres of migrant housing have been demolished and are now being replaced by townhouses.

The construction workers on the job, all Hispanic, sat in their cars or next to them, on the street by the current building site, taking their lunch.

I heard mariachi trumpet music. A fellow relaxed in his car, doors open, listening to a mariachi band and playing along at intervals with it. Perhaps rehearsing for a gig tonight.

A Mexican food store and taqueria on the corner, there for years, cannot long survive. All its customers have been displaced.

Man Swallows Severed Human Toe At Bar, Drops Mic, Skips Town

[headline, Huffington Post]

It’s not as bad as it sounds. What I learned: don’t go to the karaoke bar and drink heavily in the middle of an argument with your girlfriend.

I had promised Kathy Sue that I’d put our marriage nest egg in the bank but it was still riding around in the back of my van in a tin cookie box. Since Kathy Sue had earned all the money, she objected to the fact that I couldn’t even make the effort to go to the bank and deposit it.

“You’re taking laziness to a whole new level,” she said.

I couldn’t argue. I’m lazy by nature. But Kathy Sue was up to arguing for the both of us.

And by the way, when did “mike” turn into “mic”? Isn’t that, well, a little girly?

So we went to the Hula Hut and sniped at each other while drinking something called Hut Hooch. When it came time for me to sing, I chose “You Light Up My Life,” but when I got to the part where I go “Finally a chance to say Hey, I love you, never again to be all alone…,” I was looking over at Brenda Poltz, or, actually, down her front, and it set Kathy Sue off.

We had exchanged toe rings for our engagement – you can see where this is going – because Kathy Sue is convinced she has knobby knuckles and doesn’t want to call attention to them. On this occasion, she pulled out the pig sticker that she carries in her purse, pushed up the to stage, leaned over, and cut off my toe, the one with the ring on it. I was wearing flip-flops.

She pulled the ring off the toe, glared at me, and swallowed it.

“I’m flushing you out of my life,” she shouted at me. “Just like I’m going to do with this ring when it comes out again.”

Then she threw my toe at me. I caught it and just to spite her or match her or something, I popped it into my mouth and swallowed it.

Out in my van, I was just arriving at the hospital to get the toe stump sewed up when I realized that I still had the nest egg. Actually, it was more money than I’d had in years, it seemed like, so I tied my handkerchief around my foot, stuffed the foot into its work boot, and just kept on going.