Thursday, December 30, 2004
Fuck 2004
It’s been another year. I wouldn’t call it “good” straight off, but it was something. From smoking crack in the slums of Phoenix, to canvassing for John Kerry, to another failure of an election, and then back into the rat-hole of call-center customer service – it’s been emotional.
Phoenix
Back to Portland
One evening at work - after I had finished up a day of canvassing - I was sitting outside the office with a co-worker sharing a bowl. One of our fellow employees (who was later promoted to Team Leader) walked up to us, and I asked him how his day had been. He hesitated for a second and then said, “It was great. I laid in a park shooting dope all day.”
Getting coffee. $5.50 for a latte and water. The fire alarm starts going off, but it is met with total apathy. A recorded female voice says “please vacate the area immediately.” No one moves.
More budget work needed. Massive overruns on discretionary spending. Bush and I have something in common – massive debt.
My body craves coke and speed. These desires ARE the source of my suffering, but I have obviously not yet reached the spiritual plane where I can deny them and thus find my inner peace.
“I’m talking about flagellation. Who gives a damn about parades!”
The mail-in-rebate industry is just one example of a larger trend of companies adding outsourced “products” and “services” that provide short term revenue at the cost of customer satisfaction and long term customer loyalty.
“Do I strike you as someone with a high degree of self control?”
bad comedown now
must have more
approaching stop
“Consumer Christianity” – love, money, excess. Biblical porn: “The Second Cumming of Christ.”
Gomahdiarmy.com
The shooting of Jahar Perez occurred shortly before I returned, and the public inquisition took place in my first week back in town. At the time I was a little strung out on meth and cocaine, and I had nothing better to do, so I decided to go.
There was a kind of irony in the fact that I was doing coke in the bathrooms of the courthouse where they were holding an inquisition into the death of someone who had been murdered by the police as a result of cocaine. Sometimes this made me feel smug, and at other times it made me sick, but most of the time I didn’t feel anything.
A little taste might help. I probably need some more muscle relaxants. I must have something for this anxiety.
Audio tape - recorded directly after shooting…
[Recorded by Dennis Marty, who is narrating as he watches.]
-noise in background
[distraught yelling]
“Haven’t you given him enough yet?”
-Sirens. Another car.
[voice breaking – talking fast]
“Now they’ve been tasing him for about fucking three minutes at least.”
“Guy looks like he’s fucking dead.”
...
“Kerry up 8. With McCaine on the ticket - 18.”
“Kerry should stop wasting time campaigning and start sucking McCaine’s cock.”
What about Bush? He’s probably on his knees right now.
“He could offer to toss McCaine’s salad if he stays off the ticket.”
How about Rumsfeld sucks his [Bush's] cock, while McCaine watches and jerks off. Make it fast – and sexy.
“When he finishes, I want you to say ‘oooh - what a lovely tea party.”
Despite all the wild fantasies being spun across the political columns at the moment the chances of a Kerry/McCaine ticket are nil minus one.
Now I know why the Democratic party can't win any fucking elections.
One evening at work - after I had finished up a day of canvassing - I was sitting outside the office with a co-worker sharing a bowl. One of our fellow employees (who was later promoted to Team Leader) walked up to us, and I asked him how his day had been. He hesitated for a second and then said, “It was great. I laid in a park shooting dope all day.”
