gorpoespec

In other news: NPMills suggested that I use a humane trap from the humane society. Because it is A) more humane and B)cheaper. To this I felt it necessary to point out that A) revenge is not supposed to be humane and B) revenge is pricelesss. However NPMills have no fear ground hogs are yesterdays news.

Today we are going to poll the on-line community about wealth.

GorpoEspec: what do you think a lot of money is..
GorpoEspec: what do you think it means to be rich..
GorpoEspec: well what defines someone who is rich..

Nirshdaddy: hmmm...someone who can buy whatever they want and do whatever they want, whenever they want and still have a ton of excess money. i'd say anyone worth over a few million, or anyone who makes a few hundred thousand a year, after taxes. someone who could quit their job and live very comfortably(even in excess) for the rest of their lives and still have money to hand down to their children.

Lerppu: how much you blow weekly on blow
GorpoEspec: well how much should you blow weekly on blow..
GorpoEspec: if you were rich..
Lerppu: millions
GorpoEspec: thats very specific
Lerppu: yup

DreDogg1: I don't participate in Faglogs

And thats all that I was able to obtain. Polling people's thoughts at 4PM is apparently not opportune.

All joking aside.

This weekend the two ground hogs that have been living in and around my yard attacked and destroyed several plants in my pumpkin patch. It is painfully obvious that they were unimpressed with my atmepted/sucessful assasanation of the orginal ground hog.

I came out on Sunday morning to discover that some plants had been chewed down to the nub and as a result are unlikely to recover.

I started to sink into a depression until I was told by a reliable source at work that Home Depot supplies, traps, poison and sulfur bombs.

I am going to go there this evening to see what I can procure to combat the ground hog problem.

I feel that at this stage I have no choice but to admit that I have a groundhog problem. Hopefully this will be the first step to overcomming my problem. I have been denying the severity of their presence for several months and at this point intervention is required.

It was awful, the stems of once proud pumpkin plants reached longly towards the sun, who's energy they would no longer be able to convert into starch. The leaves were all gone. They were decapitated, probably in the night, probably in the midst of the Krebbs cycle.

Groundhogs have no heart. They are merciless eaters of Pumpkin seedlings. I know this. Pray that you never learn first hand the horror.

It was a Saturday a month ago that Walther Cadice took a pellet at my hands. As it happened I was sat comfortably on the can in an upstairs bathroom across from his dwelling.

As I turned to flush I spotted him. He was outside, and totally unaware of my presence. I retrieved my rifle and was gratified to see that he had not moved far from my initial siting. I briefly contemplated the fairness of executing the unawares, but found that the rifle was already in position.

I brought the cross hairs to bare on his midsection and squezzed the trigger, gently, carefully, so as not to upset my aim.

There was the dull crack and for a second Walther froze and then stumbled for his dwelling and out of sight. I had hoped to see him fall there, but sure that he had taken the round, I felt certain his odds of survival were slim. I was triumphant!

I entered the kitchen like the returning emperor I was and was greeted by my woman.

"What are you smiling about?"
"I got him -I shot Walther!"
"Really"
"Yeah, from the upstairs bathroom - It was a perfect shot."
"So its dead outside?"
"No -he went for his hole."
"So you didn't kill it?"
Suddenly I found myself doubting my success.
"I dont know for sure -but I defiantely hit him"
"That's so mean -so you wounded the ground hog."
Hero crack sniper to mutilator of small woodland creatures in less than 20 seconds, I could start to feel pangs of guilt -but only for a second. Then I remembered the carnage at the vegetable patch.
"Well the motherfucker should have thought of that before he attacked our sunflower seedlings -lets not forget that -besides he'll probably die in his hole."
My woman had already lost interest and was inspecting something in the freezer.
I went outside to make sure there was no carcas to mount on a stick.


That was a month ago -and for a month the 2300 residence was free of Walther. Then yesterday as I was pulling up the drive, I saw a furry mass dart for cover. Either Walther is back or theyve sent anotherone to replace him.

The hunt shall begin anew.

Monday evening as I was returning to my abode I caught sight of Walther. I cursed myself for being so far from my rifle but thought that a little more information about my victim would not go amiss. I pulled my vehicle in amongst a row of parked cars and fished around in my glove compartment for some digital binoculars.

I had come to learn from a reliable source that Walther was a vegetarian and a keen botanist. The initial I had learned from a trusted source and the latter was observable in that of the sparing venues he did leave his dwelling to visit, a flower bed lined with white daisy’s was one of his favorites. An ex-girlfriend had been a vegetarian, killing one therefore made no difference to me, and in actual fact even made me relish the prospect a little more.

The rhythmical pounding of Puerto Rican salsa was coming from a family barbeque on the far side of the park. I cut the engine and relaxed in my seat. In the decaying light I could make out Walther, he was on a neighbors property, some distance from my previously established kill zone. I brought the binoculars to bare on his form. His shaggy head was now fairly familiar to me now and I was starting to notice after several days of shadowing him that I was starting to develop a kinship with my victim.

I took a picture of Walther. He seemed to be chewing on something. I watched him for some time, he was unaware of my presence and completely immobile. I could not understand how someone so slow moving and seemingly oblivious to his surroundings could be proving such a difficult target. I wondered how old Walther was, my guess was that he was middle aged, but admittedly I had no idea. After some time he made his way slowly back to his own dwelling and went inside.

I replaced the binoculars and leant forward to start the car. I paused however as a thought struck me, perhaps I was going about this the wrong way, perhaps I should be trying to poison him instead. No. I had started down this path and I would follow it to completion, I had suspected at the beginning it might take a long time to come to fruition, but in this matter I had time.

Friday evening I located my rifle at the Wal-Mart arms dealership on 22. The model I chose was matt black and featured an exceptionally high muzzle velocity. An 8X scope was included in the purchase price and it was with this weapon I would bring demise to the hated Mr. Walter Cadice. The rifle was on sale and cost $93.47, imported from Turkey, it weighed approximately 10lbs.

Once home I assembled the rifle and attached the scope. On Saturday morning at a secluded location on my property I tuned the ocular to match the path of a fired projectile. After an hour of careful fiddling I was able to dismember a half dollar sized votive candle from a hundred paces. Satisfied I returned to the rifle to its hiding place beneath some blankets in my closet.

Late Saturday I took a pair of binoculars and made my way to the general area of Walther Cadice's residence. I passed his dwelling and walked onward to mingle with fishermen. I did not want to arouse suspicion as though I was prepared to take some time; I did not want to prolong the task unnecessarily. A failed attempt might mean complete failure if Walther became wise to the plot to end his life.

Once among the fishermen I surveyed the park and the approach to Walther residence. Since he seldom left his home and then usually only for a few minutes to take some sun, the kill shot would have to take him within a 6-8ft radius of his front door. That would be the kill zone. I paused to watch a trout being pulled from the stream by a successful angler and pondered the problem. I needed to find a spot from which I would have a clear view of the kill zone but which was shielded from the park. To the North was hillside which was in fairly open view. To the West was a tennis court and a barn, other than breaking and entering the barn, that was also a no go. I briefly contemplated a park pavilion roof top but ruled it out for being too visible and the woods beyond the park were effectively out of range. That only Left a line of trees and bushes to the East which separated two property lines. I surveyed the foliage with my binoculars and located a spot between two bushes which would be adequately concealed.

I turned my binoculars back on Mr. Walther Cadice’s dwelling but having not made an appearance all day did not seem so inclined.

Later that day I sat in wait. I was for all intensive purposes part of the bush. I found a forked branch on which I was able to immobilize the rifle. I sat patiently for an hour and watched for any sign of Walther. I wondered if he had any sense of the plan that had been laid for his demise or the predator sent to destroy him. He did not show for that hour before sundown.

On Sunday I slipped into that hole for two more sessions of about the same length but once more Walther did not make an appearance and yet again I withdrew to my residence without even sighting him.

About midday Sunday I had heard news that he was out taking some sun and I quickly collected the rifle and headed for my spot. I passed on by when I saw that the intelligence was no longer current as neither hide nor hair could be seen. At this point I began to seriously contemplate that he might have caught wind of the plot to kill him. I dismissed this notion as I had been very careful and so far without any attempts on his life previously he could not possibly suspect the change in his situation.

Some stories may take time to tell. And the Assassination of Walther Cadice may be as short or as long as it takes. It is a story of revenge, a story of patience and eventually, quite possibly a story of death.

It had been spoken in circles amongst those not unfamiliar to the 2300 residence that there was an eventuality that might one day come to pass. It had been eight long months since the first mentioning of the matter. Over food and drink it had been spoken lightly at the time, almost in jest, that Walther Candice might need to be assassinated. Everyone had laughed but none had disagreed, and as time had worn on there was a growing sentiment that metal would need to be brought to bare and bring foundation to those once cavalier words.

A week before the first paycheck of May it was decided. Walther's arrogance was beyond doubt, the trespassing had worsened with the arrival of spring and the damages and the suffering was beginning to take a toll on the residents. The abuse could be ignored no longer and it was time for change. As the alpha male of the clan I had no choice but to start the wheels in motion that would rid the land of Walther Candice and lift the shadow that his business and operations had cast upon our domain.

I would need a weapon. A high powered rifle, with a scope would be preferable. It would not be an easy kill. Walther Cadice was no fool, he was careful about is comings and goings, he conducted his business without schedule or precise routine. He left his residence from one of its two entrances and never ventured further than was necessary for is purposes. Assassinating Walther was further complicated by his residence's proximity to a local park. The transient population of the park consisted of people fishing and families pick nicking, both fairly vigilant to the presence of armed men, and a visible sniper would cause great fear, likewise the echo of a gunshot would almost certainly cause panic. The rifle would have to be silenced.

I just paid off my credit cards for the 40th time in my life..

I think I am going to write a book about how to pay off your credit cards.

Step 1.
Buy lots of shit you wouldn't normally buy because its "free".

Step 2.
Obsess about how much debt you have accumulated with nothing to show for it.

Step 3.
Fantasize that it doesn't matter and that 8-19% APR is a small price to pay for not having to pay for any of this shit that hasn't improved your life at all..

Step 4.
Admit that this is bullshit.

Step 5.
Liquidate $4000 worth of savings by clicking "pay full amount"

Step 6. Be broke and start again at Step 1.

So today I will take a break from my usual verbal incontinence and instead post a couple of other items for those who lives are obviously boring enough to be reading this.

No 1. No better way to kick off a plug for my new website: http://www.mac10guns.com than with a section from the frequently asked questions and answers page of your friendly Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms. I say this is a plug for my website about MAC-10 submachine pistols because if you've got to go through as much hassle to register a Potato Gun, you're probably better off with the latter. Remember: this is an FAQ page!

(A30) How do I obtain a classification from ATF for my "potato gun"?

ATF is unable to respond to e-mail requests for classification of "potato guns," "spud guns," or other similar devices. Any person desiring a classification of such devices must submit a written request to the Director executed under penalty of perjury and include a complete and accurate description of the device, the name and address of the manufacturer or importer, the purpose of and use for which it is intended, and such photographs, diagrams, or drawings as may be necessary to make a classification. A final determination may require physical examination of the device. Such requests for classification should be submitted to:

Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives
Chief, Firearms Technology Branch
650 Massachusetts Avenue, N.W.
Room 6450
Washington, DC, 20226.

No 2. : Still bored - heres some websites that belong to people I know. Do them a favor -click through -recommend them to search engines. More fun than TPS reports.

www.mac10guns.com :Your resource for MAC-10 Gun information
www.livejournal.com/users/hoonwonders/ :The Adventures of Mess -Excellent!
www.blurredvisionracing.org :Import Tuner Extravaganza
www.mp3-player-buyer-guide.com :Buying an MP3 Player?

Kelp K. Mousetrap

Inevitably we will get to Atlantic City…

Weekend weather has been worse than poor lately. Saturday and Sunday were no exception. The banks of the Monocacy Creek were under the brown swell by Saturday evening and yet the rain still came. Water was piddling every where, on the deck, on the road, there was a steady flow down the drive way. The more miserable side of spring I have discovered is reserved for the weekends when one is not trapped in the office, and most able to resent it. Yet it is infinitely better than winter, this winter dragging on so shamelessly that I even heard sixty something year olds who have lived in Bethlehem for most if not all of their lives talk about abandoning their lives and making a break for California.

Mistake number one and so on and so forth…

So anyway, the trip to Atlantic City did not happen as Saturday turned into a soggy mess. Sunday with the rain easing seemed more prudent, and after the girl made some cinnabons for breakfast and the news talked about the Pope dying despite the prayers of millions. We were ready to go. Or rather she was ready to go and told me so. This was mistake number one for me as I then foolishly counter-accused that she had been stalling. She did not say anything and I was quick to ignore the danger signs.

We were then in the garage. I went for the BMW. She said she wanted to take the Mitsubishi. What then ensued was a mini argument about the pro’s and cons of the two vehicles. Not willing to ever loose a fight she settled the issue by getting into the passenger seat of the Gallant and closing the door. Needless to say I was not happy with having been made a bitch of but as usual forced to negotiate with terrorists we were on our way.

So distracted was I at being beaten yet again in the domestic arena I totally forgot that we were supposed to go tanning en route. Hence as I pulled into the left turning lane for the beginning of the trip to Atlantic City there was a sudden wailing in my right ear from the passenger seat. I found myself yelling back that I wanted to go to Atlantic City and now with mistake number two jammed easily behind me the situation was safely well on its way to being a complete disaster.

It was somewhere on the back roads outside of Quakertown as we were nearing the Turnpike feeding area that the flare ups escalated into full out confrontation. I don’t remember what was said but mistake number three was made without hesitation. “Get out!” I found myself yelling at her. Finally after two dry runs this was a mistake I recognized as I was making it. But not fast enough to block the command. I knew as the words tumbled out that I had just sentenced myself to being one of those spectacles that you see every once in a while. You know the one; slow moving vehicle with some poor bastard hanging out the window trailing pissed off looking girl as she walks purposefully down the median.

An hour from initial departure we are back at the house.

So then I tried to make peace but was instructed to leave her alone. Knowing that this works about as well as harassing her perpetually, I thought I’d try it for a change anyway. So I said “OK” and packed my gear to go to the gym. Predictably, as is always the case when I try to leave the scene, I made it as far as the car before my baby bursts forth screaming about something involving “Motherfucker and car keys.” Like the idiot that I am I didn’t leave and instead stumbled head long into a wild goose chase for car keys which I knew full well had either been purposefully hidden or were on her person. I accused her of such and was then instructed to take her home or lend her my car.

This is also a typical chain of events and probably pre-meditated as she knows that I will not lend her my car in the middle of a fight. In actuality the majority of sane people I imagine would not lend someone their car in the middle of a fight. So finally satisfied I have wasted enough of my time looking for her car keys, she decided to let me drive her home. We made it as far as fountain hill with the intention of leaving her at her parent’s house before I am yet again doing a U-turn and headed home.

It is at this point that I have had enough and decide to make my typical bid for a breakup. I start with my usual analysis of “one of us must be crazy”. If it’s me then she should want to leave me, and if she doesn’t she must be crazy and I don’t want to be with her, and if it’s her then its her and I don’t want to be with her. Then I proceed to list all of the things that I am sick of. She as usual ignores the vast majority of it.

A half hour from secondary departure we are back at the house.

Sometime not much later we were on the road again to Atlantic City, in the BMW. The car keys were never found and somehow it had been identified that the days transgressions were ultimately all my fault.

The missing keys were apparently found easily at some later point because she had no difficulty in going to work Monday morning, barely a day later.

Parroting A. Traitorious

Watch your balls with that hand cannon you sleeping fool…

Last night for no apparent reason my female companion decided that someone was intending to break into the house. Why this was of impending certainty last night I have no idea. At her insistence however I was forced to sleep with a loaded pistol under my pillow. Ironically I’m not sure what the worst thing that someone breaking into the house would do, but other than rape or torture it would probably not be as bad as taking a 9mm hydra-shock to my crotch.

Installing a lock on the bedroom door would forgo the need for the gun under my pillow. However, knowing full well that installing said lock will ensure that the next time she locks me out - popping the door lock with a coat hanger will then be impossible, I am reluctant to sentencing myself to that.

Arming the security system for the first time –after months of paying for it -would also be infinitely wiser than cuddling with a loaded firearm. That however would require the memorization of passwords, reading of one possibly as many as two pages of manual and then undoubtedly setting off the alarm a good two or three dozen times by accident.
The amount of hassle associated with the security alarm therefore makes the gun a necessity.

Daylight savings to the rescue..

But that was all before 7AM. 7 AM normally being 6 AM on this particular morning thanks to Daylight savings time. Of all the stupid bullshit in the world this ranks as number one on my list. It takes months of hard work and strict discipline for someone of my caliber of disorganization to develop the complex routine required to go to sleep and wake up in time for work. Then on one fateful day a year, everything is thrown ass asunder back into chaos, the clocks are changed.

I was an hour and 15 minutes late for work this morning. It would have been worse if work hadn’t graciously provided a courtesy wake up call. Of course my tardiness had nothing to do with daylight savings time but rather because I did not properly set the alarm for 8AM. On my drive in I considered blaming daylight savings time for my late attendance anyway, but in the end decided that was as damaging as admitting the truth in that I am too incompetent to correctly operate my alarm clock. I briefly toyed with the notion that I did not practice daylight savings time as it was infringing on my right to religious freedom but in the end decided to stick with the most plausible and least damaging lie, that I had simply slept through the alarm clock. By the time I got to work I genuinely believed that was the misfortune that had befallen me.

Today I looked down and noticed that pudge has replaced what was once firm tissue about my midsection. After overcomming an immediate sense of panic and dismay I quickly addressed a random selection of on-line support group personnell to gauge their sentiments on the subject.

Recently joining a gym could not have come at a better time:

GorpoEspec: Ive got a gut sprout and I aint happy.
EstProphet11: gut sprout?...nother word for spare tire
GorpoEspec: yep.. not quite a gut..
GorpoEspec: but in its formative period...
EstProphet11: ha
EstProphet11: cant wait for volleyball, mine will melt right off
GorpoEspec: You should come to my gym..
GorpoEspec: you'd be impressed with its complete luxury..
GorpoEspec: I want to move into it..
EstProphet11: na..im relishing that ive not nothing to do for a month b4 vball
EstProphet11: just working out my upper body with big rubber bands and a big freakin balance ball
GorpoEspec: It has a huge hot tub. sauna and steam room..
EstProphet11: nice
GorpoEspec: I spend more time in the locker room than I do working out..
GorpoEspec: thats the secret of the place..
EstProphet11: haha

GorpoEspec: Ive got a gut sprout and I aint happy.
PMills: gut sprout?
GorpoEspec: gut sprout!
PMills: what the hell is that?
GorpoEspec: its a gut in its formative period..
PMills: ah.
PMills: yes
PMills: Im currently batteling with mine
PMills: althought mine has past the gestation period and is in its maturity
PMills: I have declared a jehad against my belly

GorpoEspec: Ive got a gut sprout and I aint happy.
Deuce42O: what the hell is that
GorpoEspec: its a gut in its formative period..
Deuce42O: not following
GorpoEspec: its not a full blown gut yet..
GorpoEspec: but with careful nurturing it could be..
GorpoEspec: It must be defeated.
Deuce42O: :-)

GorpoEspec: Ive got a gut sprout and I aint happy.
DrwCont: u need the ab scissor
DrwCont: or windsor pilates
DrwCont: i watch tv
GorpoEspec: and does that help..
DrwCont: they have commericals all the time
GorpoEspec: I thought you were saying you watch t.v. to control your gut..
DrwCont: according to tv they do
GorpoEspec: I was excited that there might be an "American" solution to the problem..
GorpoEspec: IE not my responsibility and something that can be fixed with money and purchasing rather than hard work..
DrwCont: wouldn't that be grand..

On Saturday Kevgas came to my BBQ and proceeded to hit on Justin's date who is my gf's sister.(To his credit he did not know that they were dating, but followig the discover continued unabated) Following this shameless display he then decided on Monday that he wants me to arrange for him to go to happy hour with my gf.

The response to his e-mail was as follows:

Obviously..

But be warned..

I would like nothing better than to take to the life of the desperado.
and hunt down the man that took my last love from me.. You know -like
a Mexican opera.. smelling like Tequila and thick with crazy
gunfighting.. then in a blaze of glory I will make a run for the
border with your corpse tied to the hood of my car.. until the police
equiped with helicopters and submarines set up a final roadblock. They
will set our stolen El Camino chariot a blaze with their grenades and
their hatred.

So after that third beer when you start to think about hitting on my
gf.. think better of it.. and hit on one of the other girls.. instead.

Heres a short that I was inspired to write after the severe frustration involved with getting my cable and phones setup in Aug 2004. As I was enduring the severe agravation and multiple visits at the hands of RCN I discovered that they the company was filing for chapter 11. This was of little surprise to me.

The Cable Guy.


“Hello I’m from RCN, sorry I’m late., you ordered a package, Telephone line, cable, internet..”
“Yes, and your name?”
“Bill.. “
The man looked at him for a moment then nodded.
“–OK well I’ll get started –we’ll do the phones first..”
“Hold on a second Bill, I’ll show you around, but first we need to discuss a few things, please come with me..”
“Ughhh.. OK.. “
The man led Bill from the entry way into a lavish office and motioned for Bill to take one of the leather reading chairs situated around a heavy mahogany table.
“I’ll be right back, make yourself at home…”
“Umm.. Sir I’m ona kinda tight schedule I should really get started.. this could take awhile..”
“Don’t worry Bill this will only take a second.”
The man left and then returned a few moments later.
The man produced a decanter and two crystal glasses and a wooden box.
“Care for a scotch and a cigar?”
“No thank you sir, I should really get started.”
The man lit his cigar and took a couple puffs.
“Now Bill, the reason you’re here as we both know - is to connect various lines and cable to provide media to my home. My people called your people and you were sent as a representative for your firm, it is your job to negotiate, represent and perform service.”
The man paused and took a drag on his cigar.
“What you may know is that the company you work for, your employer, is currently trying to re-emerge from Chapter 11, from bankruptcy in a basic debt for equity swap. What you don’t know is that I happen to know first hand at least one of the reasons why your company is in this predicament”
“umm”
“Do you know why your company has these troubles Bill?”
“umm” Bill was shaking his head. He looked lost and he knew it.
The man removed a piece of tobacco from the end of his cigar and dropped it distainfully into the ashtray.
“Its because your service sucks!”
“I’m sorry I was late sir”
That’s just the tip of the iceberg Bill, “ The man took a sip of his scotch and looked out the window.
“ I was on hold for over twenty minutes, I never got to speak to a customer service representative...”
The man looked suddenly tired, harrowed by the recollection.
“Finally after three consecutive days of calling I got through only to be told to hangup and call back the same number, The same number Bill!”
Bill looked dumfounded.
“Do you know that number Bill? 1-800-RING-RCN. Do you know that number? Of course you don’t.. But I do.. and do you know why? Because I call it every day, trying to get my cable installed.”
“I’m sorry” Bill looked genuinely apologetic, and fingered his tools sheepishly.
“Twice now they have come to my house, your people, twice now they have failed to succeed in providing me with the services that were promised,. Services agreed upon by binding word between myself and your telephone sales representative Laquesha. That was five weeks ago Bill.”
“Ughh.. I’m sorry sir I should really get this connected now..” Bill started to get up..
“SIT DOWN!” The mans voice was commanding. Bill sat down.
“Bill, I know you are a busy man, but you have taken many hours of my life, I feel it only fair that I take a few more moments of yours.
The man took a sip of his scotch and blew a smoke ring.
“Do you know what your represnentative said to me last time he was here?”
“That the RCN high speed line running across my property is not switched on.. that I should call RCN.. and have my neighbors call RCN to lobby to have it switched on.. Assuming I did not have a cellular Phone Bill –how would I do that from my property –with smoke signals?”
“And then Bill do you know what he told me next?”
“Sir I’m sorry for all of this but if you’ll let me I’ll try to fix it now..”
“He told me that I should try a different cable company. A different cable company Bill! Can you believe it, your own colleague betraying your livelihood, undermining your only currency in this world, customer choice…”
Bill could not find anything else in his immediate vicinity on his person or elsewhere to fidget with. He put his hands on the arms of the chair and looked at the man intently. He felt uneasy but tried to sound decisive.
“Sir, I’m sorry but I’ve gotta go, my next appointment is in ten minutes I don’t wanna be late.”
“Bill its much to late for that, you have long since given up customer satisfaction as a bargaining chip –helping you to help yourself isn’t going to be easy, but for your survival, the survival of your firm you must be strong and I must do this.”
The man turned and looked at Bill.
“When I first contacted RCN they said that it would take about an hour to set up these services. Do you understand Bill?”
“Yeahh.”
“But so far RCN hasn’t been able to do this in an hour now have they Bill”
“Well No but..”
“Now I understand that its not easy, but I have faith Bill. I believe that with the right sort of employee resourcefulness, with some engenuity and with some hard work, deadlines could be met, schedules could be adhered to, customer service could improve. And if it does Bill, if that spark can be fanned into a fire and that fire could raise RCN from the ashed and into the sky like a great Phoenix wouldn’t that be something..”
“Ughhh Yeah”
“But in order to do this you must believe that it is possible, and the only way you will ever believe is by doing it.. So are you with me Bill?”
“Ok”
“Good, you have an hour to connect the cable. If I am not watching the discovery channel in one hour you will be executed, if you leave the house for any reason except to connect the cable you will be executed, if you call out for any reason except to connect the cable you will be executed.. Do you understand me?
“Bill nodded dumfounded.”
The man removed a pocket watch and clicked itinto motion.
“Then get started and good luck!”

Before we begin lets ask ourselves some simple questions.


1) Where do really stupid decisions come from?
2) How is it that one simple stupid decision can cause so much disaster?

It was a beautiful day. Everything was going perfectly. The Uhaul Van easily accommodated the mattress set and bedframe from BJS. Thepurchase of which and the use of the van saving over $300 in budgeted cash. The head board and chair had been in stok at Peir 1 and likewise had fit in the van effortlessly. In one day all of the furnishing necessary to complete the décor of the spare bedroom had been acquired and with much less effort and expense than had been anticipated. As if to accentuate all good things even the gas gauge had been creaping up ever since leaving the Uhaul lot rendering the need to refuel before return unessary.

So there we were headed home. Ahead of schedule, under budget and in high spirits. 33 North to 22 West to home. Lisa was talking ot me about something, other people’s relationships – the bedroom, something unimportant but distracting enough that a malfunction occured in my autopilot program and there we were on the 22 exit headed East towards Easton. That was when disaster struck.

My thoughts occurred in this order.
1) I have taken a wrong exit
2) The next exit to turnaround could be miles away
3) This is costing me $.79/Mile
4) I don’t want to take another 15 minutes to get home.
5) All I have to do is drive across the median and take the onramp to the next exit.
6) I have done this 5 or six times before in my life.

Though this may seem like a logical series of thoughts when isolated from reality here are the offsetting facts –not one of which happen to surface in my conscious in time to save me from what happened next:
1) The thawed ground was muddy.
2) The ditch had a serious incline on exit
3) The Van might be rear wheel drive. . (following the production of great muddy rooster tails moments later this was confirmed)
4) My cell phone was dead.
5) The closest exit with habitation was 2-3 miles in any direction.
6) Late day Saturday is one of the worse times to require automotive assistance.
7) Any number of additional things that would make any sane person cringe at the idea of trying to cross the median ditch to get back onto 33.

Stupid ideas are usually well endorsed by fate however and I had to wait only moments before there were no oncoming cars on the 22 exit ramp. I then had my chance to ruin our afternoon and land myself squarely in the middle of the stupidest situation I have ever been in. So I did.

Moments later following a little additional ill though out action and some flailing and the Uhaul van was covered completely in mud, stranded in the middle of the devider, with the rear wheels half suberged in the muddy thaw.

Lisa was speechless and despite a few comments about how she was about to loose it for the most part had the good sense not to say anything. She later told me it was because there was nothing she could add to the stream of self condemnation I was dispensing.

A few moments later, following the checking of the cellphone and the realization, there was nothing that could be done with the nonexistent highway detritus –or anything on the van. I gave Lisa instruction to stay with the wreckage and bailed into the PA landscape.

As I walked up the offramp back towards Route 33 I took one look back at the Uhaul van. I wish I could have ataken a picture. That image will be with me for a long time. The on and off ramps framing the van. The van stationary. The tires and rear section covered in mud. The image was classic, it said it all, it was as out of place as a Baboon’s shiny blue ass: Stupid! It yelled at me. As I made my way up the ramp some people honked, some at me, some at the van. What would motivate people to honk at a pedestrian on the highway or a stranded vehicle is beyond me. The stupidity associated with the gesture is in my mind second only to the stupidity associated with getting one’s Uhaul van stuck in the median strip between a highway on and off ramp.

So I walked, along the highway, in the snow, along the grass, in the snow. Eventually I climbed the embankment and wlaked along the ridge. I thought about a lot of things during that long walk, namely the idocy of the situation, my apprehension at being able to sort it out, whether I would face a Police fine, how much this misadventure would end up costing but more than anything how thankful I was to escape the evidence of my own stupidity.

After the better part of an hour and a couple of large intersection crossed I was finally in an Outback Steakhouse restaurant. This in its self was no easy task as the lot was completely fenced in accept for the driveways. For what purpose other than to stop would be cross country foot traffic from getting to the Outback Steakhouse I have no idea. After ordering a Sprite to catch my breath I endeavored to deal with the less than helpful manager in the hopes of using his payphone. The lack of a pay phone, coupled with the need for an outline acess code coupled with the manager’s short physique and obvious Napoleonic tendancies allowed me only one call to Verizon 411. This in turn gave me two numbers and one auto dial at a charge of $.75 to Outback Steakhouse. The tow company kept me on hold for five minutes and then hung up on me. The manager blew me off upon the request for another chance to dia out so I asked the more friendly waitresses to point me the direction of the nearest gas station.

A mile later and with the purchase of a Gatorade I was using the gas station’s payphone to try to get another tow number. The gas station itself proved to be about as helpful as the Outback Steakhouse but by having a payphone at all was immeasurably more useful.

Following the assistance of several Verizon operators I fnally got in touch with Bethlehem’s AAA of which I knew Lisa to be a member. It was then, an hour and a half after making that fateful decision and with dusk setting in, as I was giving the coordinates of the downed Uhaul, that I spotted ur very van turning into the Exxon. Someone had stopped and pulled Lisa to safety, she had then tracked me down.

In total that was defiantely the dumbest thing that I have done in a long time –if not forever. And as it turned out it ended up resulting in nothing more than $3 in extra mileage on the van, an hour and a half of lost Saturday and a lot of needless walking and stress on my part. As we passed the fateful off ramp on the way back to 22 it was surreal, almost as if it had never happened at all.

When I returned the van the Uhaul desk clerk looked at me and said:
“What the hell did you do to that van.”
“It was muddy at my house” I lied.
“Your lucky my manager isn’t here –he’d fine you for that for sure.”
“Oh really –well thanks”
“Yeah I’ll tell him I was out doing donuts in it –which I was –could you hear me?”
Having heard the screeching tires I nodded.
As we walked out to check the gas level in the van he muttered something about not being able to wait to get off work to go smoke some pot.
I wondered briefly why he would volunteer all this information then realized that like him I was wairing a hoody, had mud on my shoes and to the best of his knowledge also enjoyed doing stupid things with Uhaul vans. We were brothers today. I thanked him again for not charging me any extra and was thankfull to leave the lot and put the day behind me once and for all.