This Is Not Tech Support

Sitting here pondering the meaning of life, I have come to the sinking realization that I have been engrossed in the perusal of other blogs than tending to my own.

Shakes off the dust

The current music giving my writing inspiration is "Ride Captain Ride" by The Blues Image. The song starts out with these words:

Seventy-three men sailed up from the San Francisco Bay
Rolled off of their ship, and here's what they had to say
"We're callin' everyone to ride along to another shore
We can laugh our lives away and be free once more"....

Now I am not even going to try and go into the actual semantics of the true meaning; let's just say that I feel it calling to me telling me to let behind all the pain and sorrow this world has brought me and start looking at the world in the way I want it to be. There is no need to view this thing called Life as it is presented to me.

Recent Events

Yesterday evening BAD1 and my self were at the gas station. I was running on fumes and if I didn't get the petrol we were going to be pounding the pavement. There is also the fact that he loves to feel like a Grown-up and pump the fuel. This is all fine and dandy in my book and it gives him something to learn how to do. I went in and left him with the simple instruction fill 'er up. He set about his task and I went into the store to pay and buy us a couple of cokes. I head to the counter to wait for him to be finished when I look up and he is running to the door.

Eyes a bit wide (kids and petrol do not mix), I ask What's up bro?. Chuckling I explain to him in simple terms that he is to use the button marked 87. Since he is in the store with me I tell him to wait and pay for the drinks adding that we are going to be getting 10 dollars worth of the stinky stuff.

The man behind the counter was a Slurpee Head which is not that big a deal to me. As a matter of fact there is one over by my house and I get on quite well them and have a few chats about life in general, but this guy would have been more at home on my TV with a kalashnikov in his hand shouting out for the heads of Americans, hell, why don't we just throw on some goat skin and a towel and he's fucking made in the shade.

The following conversation (if you can call the guttural sounds mixed with Praise Allah! the art of communication.):

I have these two drinks and want to get 10 in the PT

Li Li, Li, Li! Praise be to Allah! That will be twenty dollars

No man I want 10.

It will be twenty dollars or you shall pay with the life of your sons!

Out comes the Sinbad sword

What the fuck are you going on about? Whoa... easy now... BAD1 did you put any petrol in the car?

The little dude gulps as he whispers to me in horror No dad! I haven't even put anything in it yet

The English language has ceased to be uttered as we enter the domain of La-Di-Li-Li-Li! All I understand is him saying the word twenty repeatedly

Getting irritated, Dude I don't know what the hell you're saying but I am getting ten dollars worth, now ring me up!

Those cowardly dogs! I will castrate them with my thumb nail, and laugh as they scream in pain! My humble apologies for the thieves who took your fuel.

No man how much is it?, Deep voice inflected with a bit of the I'm going to kick some ass soon even if I am wearing my slippers.

The total is$12.84..



There are times where you sit and wonder in awe at the world in which we live. Then the thought slams you back into reality as the realization comes that you have just lost minutes of your life that will never be regained.


Motherfucker.