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"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

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Hell, I don’t know Where This is Going

February 27, 2006 by Jack Steiner

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Hell, I don’t know where this is going or what the hell I am going to say. I am just frustrated and going to rattle off at the mouth, er keyboard. Not that it makes a difference. Found out a while ago that some people had discovered this little corner of cyberspace. They know me and were not all that happy with what they read here.

My initial reaction to this was to tell them that if they didn’t like it they could go find a hot poker and see how far they could shove it up their tuchus before it became uncomfortable. In some ways I thought of it as serving a purpose because when they removed it I was confident that they would release whatever had crawled up their ass and died. That had to be a good thing, but some infections run deep.

I never did express my true feelings. They were given a taste, a small sample similar to the little piece of burrito they might provide you with at Costco. It wasn’t easy to restrain myself, to hold back. It is not my nature. I am a bull, a Taurus. I am Ferdinand the Bull. I want to sit underneath the cork tree and relax but people keep poking, prodding and pricking me. And sooner or later my easygoing temperament is going to be replaced by my sending my horns up your ass as I trample you. How many times must I ask you to respect my wishes. Obviously my wishes do not matter so I might as well say it in no uncertain terms.

OTOH, the beauty/ugliness of age is that in theory you mature and I must have because I didn’t say or do anything in particular. And while this might have been the better part of valor it infuriates me. I hate it. I hate having to watch what I say for fear of pissing someone off. I don’t look to offend but I am not in the habit of censoring myself with this kind of formality.

I am tired of this post, on to something else.

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