No Accounting For Accounting

No Accounting For Accounting

(PM LXI)

It absolutely boggles my mind

when somebody has less

aptitude in mathematics

than myself.

They are required to print

out three sheets, each

numbered on the top

right corner, one, two

and three.

I stamp and return copy

number two, and I keep

and file one and three.

Oh, yes, I have to staple a

sample to copy number one

if there is one.

Anyways, some people come to

the dock completely Fubar

and can't get the idea of three

fucking copies set in their

head.

Some demand all three copies

stamped and returned,

I refuse,

others keep copy number one and

give me two and three.

I try and explain to them but I get

many a gape and a long

soul-less look in the eye.

Some just throw all three

copies at me, drive away and

supposedly hope for the best.

I think I would like to take up

origami and make little

white cranes for the people,

hoping it might brighten their

day and even make them

a little smarter.

MCC

Despair and Depravity

Despair and Depravity

(PM LX)

I have become one of the

"bad machines"

from Midnight Express, doomed

to walk around

in a circle in the basement

until I can be fixed

How I want to break free from that

condemned walk,

and go counter-clockwise,

shoving people out of the way and

drawing the attention of the

fixers,

that maybe I am slipping

slowly away from their grip.

Why do we have to reach the

very pit of despair and depravity

before someone reaches out to

help us.

Wouldn't it be easier to catch

sight of the souls tumbling

through the cosmos and try

to soften their landing pad

instead of trying to pick up the

pieces that have shattered

on a cold, tiled bathroom floor.

The neurons in the brain misfire

at times or do not reach across

the synapses to fire the motors

that drive you,

or so I've understood.

One of the drugs I take tries

to make the connection better,

and in doing so,

will better help me function

in society, with my family,

co-workers,

blah, blah, blah,

Wouldn't it make more sense for

me to learn to live within

society with what I have,

workable or not?

Altering my brain function

and usage has not worked,

it has alienated me more from

reality, and if I didn't have

a more patient wife and son

I would truly be fucked.

I can live inside the boundary

for a short amount of time

before slipping over the border

occasionally to dabble in what I

call "semi-blind futility".

I forget to pay bills

I spend compulsively and lose

track of money and time.

I procrastinate like crazy and I

do not complete half the

tasks I am obligated to

undertake.

Importanly I lose my vision

of reaction,

consequences disappear and

lock themselves into a part of

my brain that I can see but I do not

hear or take heed.

By the time I react,

its too late,

and I suffer because I

am conscious of my faults,

just too late to try and

avoid them.

MCC

We Don't Need A Better Mousetrap

We Don't Need A Better Mousetrap

(PM LVI)

Someone should come up with

a drug that makes you feel

as though you were twenty years

old again.

Not physically, but just to have that

feeling of omnipotence,

that you had the world by

the balls,

nobody would fuck with you

and you could pretty much get

away with anything.

You don't worry about speed

limits or wearing seat belts,

you don't worry about heart attacks

or whether your insurance

is going to go sky-high.

Once the pressure sets in

and you start to feel

it,

that's when you begin to age

and unlike a fine wine,

you age poorly.

Death is frighteningly foreshadowed

by the first grey hair

or the discovery of a wrinkle

on your forehead

when you smile in the mirror.

Later you notice that it takes

you longer to stand up and take

a piss than it does to sit down.

You get sweaty from eating

and you can't stay up

drinking for three days straight

like you used to.

Your hearing becomes impaired,

knees crack when you get up,

and it takes a little bit longer

to scrape yourself off the floor

when you pass out on the hard-wood

floor, some broad has stolen

your car,

and you start your day at work

by adding a little

Bailey's to your coffee, and

by noon you're

into the Ballantine's.

Life is fucked up!

MCC

Catnip

Catnip

(PM L!V)

I heard the thud on the floor

as he cat made a less

than cat-like jump from the

couch onto the hardwood.

She was graceful, lithe

and had a beautiful shiny

coat.

She came home doped up

after the operation

and was in a bit of a daze

for a day or two.

She would occasionally look

at me closely as if to ask

why we had put her through

a hysterectomy.

Surely her instinct couldn't

tell her what we had

done,

and what she would be missing.

I don't think she was really

mad at me but since

the whole episode,

I feel she doesn't wholly

trust me anymore.

Last night I woke up and she was

batting my feet,

I don't know if I had been

disturbing her,

or she was just playing with me.

She gets groggy when she sleeps

and the first half hour after she

wakes up is usually spent in

what I believe to be a

hallucinogenic paradise.

I hear her cry sometimes when

I am asleep and when I

go and search for her,

I will find her alone, staring

at the wall where maybe there

was a caterpillar a minute ago.

She cries to go outside when its raining

and when I open the door and she

sees the water coming down

she looks at me angrily and berates

me for allowing it to rain

on her property.

MCC

Barbecuing 10

Barbecuing 101

(PM XLVIII)

In honor of Goose-Gate I am

going to bbq chicken tonight.

I have come close to perfecting a

dry-rub which is very basic

but it is mine.

Rubbed basil, fresh thyme and a triple soupçon

of Cayenne pepper form the main ingredients

along with kosher salt and fresh cracked

pepper.

I also add garlic powder, dry parsley,

dry hot mustard, fresh chopped rosemary and

dried oregano.

I cannot stress enough the fact

that I use absolutely no tarragon

at all. I have always disliked

tarragon and I would notice even

the smallest quantity.

Don't fuck me around on the

tarragon!!

Lately I have added two new members

to the dry rub although in

minute quantities.

Allspice, just a pinch, enough to feel the

aroma gently caress and meld

with the already pungent rub.

Now, thanks to the Food Network, I

also grind a good size tablespoon

of nutmeg into there.

I tried Bbqing steaks with nutmeg

a couple of weeks ago and

they were an instant hit,

incidentally one of the diners was an

adamant nutmeg hater!

I think I cured him, the only problem

is if I tell him,

he wouldn't like it.

I'll bathe the chicken in this

concoction rubbing it into the more

tender and hidden parts, making sure

I get plenty under the skin.

After letting it sit for maybe an hour or so

I'll bathe it in a little President's Choice Habanero

tequila BBQ sauce

just before putting it on the grill.

Depending on the size of the chicken

pieces, I usually leave them on for

an hour and a half on low, indirect

heat. This broils them up nicely.

caramelizing the BBQ sauce and just letting

them bathe in their glory.

Result- Perfect tasting chicken,

a little exotic with a zing of Habanero

and Cayenne pepper tickling the back

of your throat with each bite you take.

You won't specifically taste the nutmeg

but it will speak to you

all the way down your throat,

so brush ip on your Spanish!

By the way, don't fuck with the

chicken while it is cooking,

it will take care of itself.

Dried cumin and epices Provencal,

use them if you got them.

Could Be Any Large Corporation

Could Be Any Large Corporation

(PM XLII)

One of the stations located here

in the plant where I work

experienced a restructuring

recently. What that means is

they shook up all the points of call

in the whole area

and packaged the routes out in

different orders for the paeons

to bid on and then

own.

Everytime they do this, there is

always a lot of tweaking to

be done and the union is forever

accusing the company of eliminating

jobs and making employees work harder

to cover it up.

This time has been no exception,

although it has been the most blatantly

poor restructure I have

seen in my short while here.

People who were outside delivering

for three hours are now lucky

if they finish in five.

People are calling in sick at a

tremendous rate,

leaving more work for those left

behind as they are now "forced"

back to work everyday to pick

up the slack.

People who are forced back often

call in sick the next day to

cover their anger

and the situation worsens.

Phone calls from irate customers

begin pouring in,

demanding to know why

their things are being delivered

at four in the afternoon

instead of ten in the morning.

The company will say anything,

blame it on a labour disruption,

the weather, Wikipedia or YouTube.

It doesn't matter, the real reason

will never make the news as the

loudest complainers will quickly

be silenced by superior, supervisor,service.

In other words one of them will

drop of Grandma's pension cheque,

and maybe get their cat out of a tree

while they happen to be there,

leaving them heroes,

and leaving us a bunch

of disgruntled, spoiled, overpaid,

lazy civil servants.

And that's why the country

is in the mess it is today.

MCC

Workplace Hazard

Workplace Hazard

(PM XLIV)

Red had left early that day,

much earlier than usual as

said he had a number of errands

to run after work.

I think he only drank about

three beers that morning

which was light for him.

I vaguely remember saying

goodbye as he flew out the

back door like a wet cat.

Fifteen minutes later there was

a commotion in the back parking

lot by the loading docks.

I got outside in time to see Red

standing there in his underwear.

His clothes, mail bag and mail

lay strewn on the ground beside

him.

"I'll fucking see you all tomorrow,"

he yelled as I wondered what had

got into him.

His car exploded out of the parking

lot leaving the remnants in a lonely

pile on the concrete.

Within ten feet of the pile, reasons became clear

the smell of skunk rose in my nostrils

once again inspiring my gag reflex.

MCC

Extraordinary Coping Skills

Extraordinary Coping Skills

(PM# XLIII)

I witnessed a pretty magnificent

marvel coming home on the bus

last night.

The bus stopped to pick someone

up,

the bus driver got out of his seat

and made the people on the bench

by the door get up and move

along.

He flicked a switch under the bench

and it swung up leaving quite

a large space.

He then activated a ramp that ran

from the door to the ground,

a guy in a supersonic futuristic

wheelchair inched his way on the

bus using a toggle he operated

with his nose.

He was very agile and it only took him

a moment to wheel the chair

around and out of everyone's way.

He couldn't talk and he could only

move his head. He had an ipod

directly in front of his face by the

controls which he operated

with his nose.

His head moved back and forth\not in any nervous fashion but

obviously in time to the

music.

There were a number of zippered

pockets on the back of his chair

making up an elaborate backpack

which I assume contained a

washroom and any other things

he would have needed in a day.

I don't know how he would have accessed

anything in there as he

was alone and had no use of his arms,

I guess he would have asked one of us.

Either he had secretly signaled the

driver or he knew where to let him

off because he got out just as

quickly as he had embarked

and I watched how he motored

off into the pouring rain,

driving with his nose.

If one of my eyes had been

gouged out at that moment, how

could I have complained about it?

And who on that bus would

have listened?

MCC

We Have No Need For A New Yogi Bear

We Have No Need for A New Yogi Bear

PMCCLVII

It took a while to be able to tell my true feelings about the

new Yogi Bear 3-D Movie, I was upset when I first

found out. Yogi was one of childhood heroes and probably

for all the wrong reasons. First of all he was a rebel, he lived

off the main highway and had to steal to survive

in his own habitat. He refused to be himself and do what

bears do and eat what bears eat. He ridiculed authority,

Ranger Smith, who was quite obviously gay, was his nemesis

and he concentrated all his time into outwitting

him yet still they formed a symbiotic relationship. There were those

that thought Yogi might also be gay what with his little buddy

Boo-Boo and all but we must remember his love for Cindy-Bear

and that other weird female bear that escaped from

the zoo. I just think he thought more of his stomach

than he did about sex and lets just leave it at that.

Yogi Bear was the Homer Simpson of the seventies, surviving

despite stupidity could have been his motto and his

inexplicable need to do the opposite of any sane individual

left us reeling in laughter and breeding a special

love and respect for his foil, Boo-Boo. I have not seen the new

3-D movie or for that matter, even read about it. I'm afraid

what we are in for is a politically-correct, green, Obama-loving, Bush-hating

tamer and smarter bear that we should have left back in the

seventies with his buddies Huckleberry and Quickdraw. The idea

that children will clamour to hug this new, gentler, wild bear is not sitting well

with me and I urge you not to see it. Stay at home with some good

old-fashioned pot and watch all the episodes on Youtube.

I leave you with the immortal words of my hero;

"Looks more, like a sycamore, to me!"