I got a text from Geilfuss a few weeks ago and it concerned the insanely bizarre world of Essex, Maryland (a town where a women who owned a bra AND actually wore it once a week would be considered queen). Anyway, Geilfuss informed me that on the same day, 2 women, a mother and daughter to be exact, gave birth. Not that unusual in our world, you say (especially the Essex-esque nature of much of our world). Well, that's true. But in this case there's a catch. The 2 women, the mother and daughter, were both impregnated by the same man. And the ladies just happened to deliver the babies on the same day. I faithfully watch Springer and tales of some lowlife banging a girl and her mom (or even Granny) are not super out of the ordinary these days. But I had never heard of a twist like the one in Essex. It will be interesting to see how the relationship between these 2 infants develops over the years. Normally a kid would call their Grandma's child Aunt or Uncle whatever. Or Grandma's child would call their half-sister's kid niece or nephew. I guess those tags technically hold in this weird case. Where it gets even stranger is the labelling of the father of both kids in this situation. Because while he's clearly Daddy to both these kids, things start getting problematic when you start pondering how the moron exactly relates to the mother and daughter and everyone else in the family. It blows my mind to contemplate it. I think freak would suffice. Or no good piece of worthless shit. Or guy who needs to buy some damn prophylactics. Something though. I await news that the same guy knocked up a 1st cousin of the younger of these mothers, or even better, a sister of the same. Hopefully, Geilfuss will keep me posted.
Speaking of Geilfuss, the kid hasn't blogged in like 6 weeks now. And I know we can all get busy with stuff or just not feel like there's anything interesting to write about (especially someone like me who doesn't do any kind of pre-planning or rough drafting, as I just sign in and start typing, and some days it takes a few minutes for something to pop into my brain). But here's hoping Geilfuss will break out of his self-imposed blogging exile here soon. As I've said before, the only blogs I look at on any kind of regular basis are the blogs scribed by Mark Titus and Geilfuss (although I may have to ditch Titus now, as I hear he's going Hollywood and getting involved {not necessarily sexually involved} with the cliche king of ESPN, Bill Simmons).
There is a guy who comes into the Wing Joint on Battleground from time to time. A guy I like to call Fat Chris (although he's not as fat as Fat Adam of Get Bent Lounge infamy, not by a sight). Most folks at the wing joint call him Big Chris. In fact, now that I think about it, lots of guys around the dive bars of the Gate City go by Big ___. I know a Big John, Big Dave, Big Jeff, Big Tom, etc. It's amazing how big guys are. Maybe someday I can get to the point where folks call me Big Brother??? Get it??? I kill myself. I really do. Getting back to Big Chris, the guy is in his mid 40's, has an enormous gut, wears his hair longish, parted down the middle, and sports a horrendous NASCAR style pornstache for effect (what effect, I can't figure out). Big, or Fat, Chris lives with an 84 year old man, next door to his mother. He works occasionally as a day laborer (he'll paint, or mow, or generally tinker around a home or yard for a few bucks {although he has boasted that he will work for Budweiser from time time - I guess that's good as it cuts out the middle man. I mean all Big Chris would do with any cash he makes is go to the nearest Quickie Mart and buy Budweiser anyway...}). The thing about Big Chris is that he doesn't come into the bar with much cash on him most nights. He has limited funds. He's constantly begging someone to buy him a beer. One night a few weeks ago, Big Chris came into the bar and paid his tab with 16 dollars worth of quarters. I, and others, suspect he stole the quarters from the 84 year old man he rooms with. At least on the night Big Chris paid in quarters, he paid. Because, on many other nights, Big Chris walks out on his tab. Inevitably one of the stupid young servers in there will pay it for him. The girls waiting tables in there are generally well-intended morons. Big Chris's favorite activity at the bar is stalking a woman named KC, a 50 year old drunk who, while nice enough I guess, sits and gets hammered from 5 to midnight every weeknight and some Saturdays. KC detests Big Chris. I know KC detests Big Chris. So, I put lots of energy into getting the 2 of them together. It amuses me. And it passes the time. Just yesterday Big Chris came into the bar dead drunk, stoned out of his mind (he proudly showed me the last bit off whatever pot he'd scored), looking for a free beer and a way to score with his muse, KC. I told him he had to have some plan to repay for the beers he was getting for nothing. And that's when Big Chris came up with one of the most genius ideas I've ever heard. His plan is to buy a buffalo costume (the animal, not the football team) and roam up and down Battleground to attract customers to the Wing Joint. The only thing he would require of the Wing Joint in return for this service was for them to attach some kind of device to the back of the buffalo costume that contained cold Budweiser that he could sip through some tube as he prowled the streets. I am encouraging Big Chris with this idea. I think it would be awesome to see him and his enormous gut stumbling out into the busy road, dead drunk, sporting a stinky and sweat saturated buffalo costume. The only problem is getting someone to pay for the costume. I am told a custom made costume like the one Big Chris has in mind, costs about 4 grand. And the General Manager of the Wing Joint isn't going to shell out that kind of dough so Big Chris can fall, piss-assed drunk onto Battleground, and get run over by some truck while wearing a buffalo costume. The kind of publicity that would attract isn't the kind the Wing Joint wants. But it's what I want. And since everything is about me, I'm gonna hold some kind of fundraiser to get Big Chris this buffalo costume. I'm thinking of one of those walk-a-thon deals. You know, like walk for the cure or whatever. I will call it Walk For The Fat Man Who Needs A Buffalo Costume To Get Free Budweiser And Inevitably Die Tragically. I like the ring of that. It rolls right off the tongue.
I'm at Generic Bread at the moment and there is some teacher about 7 feet away meeting with students and some poorly bearded co-teacher. Anyway, the talk turned to what movie would be good to show to her 11th grade English class. Several ideas were thrown out - Barton Fink, Miller's Crossing, Elephant Man, etc. I looked up at one point point and offered this suggestion - "The Devil Wears Nada?" Alas, no one laughed.
I saw some piece in last Sunday's NY Times about Mrs. Barack Hussein Obama's influence on fashion. And it was nauseating, to say the least. I'm not qualified to speak about women's fashion, obviously (my suggestion would be topless, with fishnet stockings, a garter belt, no panties, and shaved raw). But accompanying this article were dozens of photos of various outfits and whatnot that Mrs. Barack Hussein Obama has donned over the last year or so. And I noticed a theme in the said photos. The theme was this - no matter what she wears, Mrs. Barack Hussein Obama appears to always look like James Harrison in drag...
Minimalism, Abstract Impressionism, Postmodernism, Is it?
I am out - TBFH
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