Sentential Links #193

And now we’re back in the swing with this regular feature. Enjoy….

:: This entire decade has been pretty much end-to-end suck.

:: I once quit a job at a dollar movie theater when we were bought out by a larger chain that would require me to cut my hair to serve popcorn to the dregs of humanity. I wasn’t willing to alter my appearance that drastically for minimum wage, in what I now realize was an asinine statement about me expressing my individuality. Ah, youth. I would go on to cut my hair about 2 years later on my own whim, basically after realizing that I can piss people off easier if I blend in among them. (Heh, I can relate — I once interviewed with an outfit that does inventory for retail establishments that told me I’d have to cut my hair for the job, which started at $7 an hour and involved a lot of working overnight, when places were closed and therefore would involve absolutely no contact with anyone other than other people working for the same outfit. I didn’t bother returning their calls for a second interview.)

:: I wasn’t aware that being a rapist made you one half of an awesome scifi couple.

:: It is a recurrent irony of certain film artists’ lives that upon their death, no matter what other accomplishments may have been theirs, if they won an Oscar the headline will read “Academy Award Winner Dies.”

:: Beavers — they’re back! (I just love the ongoing sagas of the beavers and the ducks outside SDB’s apartment building.)

:: Anyone could win all the money on Jeopardy every night if they wanted, because for each answer given on the show, there are an infinite number of technically correct questions.

:: I spent the morning wandering around the Southeast Lighthouse, which is so beautiful and so intense I almost felt like I was mainlining some awesome drug of choice.

:: Once again 6,000 people (my guess) came into Buffalo, spent money in our bars and hotels, and supported the Sabres by paying the ridiculous ticket prices from the box office ($237 a pop for seats in the 200’s or the 100-Level-I) and ordering $7 beer after $7 beer. And once again they went home with nothing but empty pockets and the stench of failure.

:: But I kept it up, clumsily, whether muse freed or fettered,
and now I have written a poem every day. (Awesome!)

And there we end for now….