My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Well ifn it ain’t my favorite font, down here in Kettleman City.

Lets take a good long look at this wanderer’s cart. 2 area rugs are obvious. He’ll be selling those tonight on the sidewalk in front of the closed roll up door at the brake place on 16th and Valencia. But did you notice he saved some used scratchers?

Look down low. A little cooler! He brings his lunch? Perhaps. He wouldn’t show me the contents. He hangs around the drug house on the block so more likely it’s bags of weed.

Hidden at the bottom and held by a zip tie is his melon opener.

Old MacDonald painted yonder blunderbuss but the second littlest lady of the house said, “I don’t like guns!” so in a bipartisan inspiration I took possession and painted “kitchen” on it so house guests wont come rummaging through my bedroom looking for bagels. Right?

So Al, I finally got the interview with Rooter Bong. Cost me $150 too. Wasn’t even Mr. Bong himself, it was a hired hand. He snaked the drain in the tub, pulled out a toupee.

“Do you get a lot of work because your name is a drug reference?”

Laughter, then, “Nooo. It’s his name. But when I’m on Haight Ashbury, everyone wants to take a picture of the truck. When I drive away, they say, ‘Don’t go, I want your picture!’ Then they ask for a t-shirt. ‘Send me one, for 5 dollars’ they say. It’s only for the company I tell them.”

“Bong is Filipino, right?” I ask.

“On New Year’s in Phillipines they have fireworks, and it makes that noise, Bong, Bong. We don’t say Bang. He’s a New Year’s baby, so they call him Bong.”

“That’s the only question he should be asking you,” Mr. Hawkins tells me.

We’re talking about how to deal with people you got working for you.

Best thing is to hire illegals that don’t speak English so there are no arguments.

While the honey badger vacations in Rhode Island he’s hunting down inspirational hand painted signs. Don’t need to throw this one back.

Practicing my lettering for a new paint job on the back of the truck. On a pizza box.

This is the project that broke up the band so to speak. Operation Last Straw I’ll call it.

Will’s friend owns a bar called “The Broken Record”. We were asked to remove old trellis work and put up a gate to section off the keg storage area.

Here are the before and after photos. You see Will in the before photo but not in the after. Because he walked off the job.

“7/19/11 9:30 to 11:30 listen to an asshole be an asshole”

So read the invoice he sent me. It bummed me out that I wasn’t able to communicate effectively or be a good boss.

It opened up a lot of self doubt and misgivings inside, recalled my anger with Rusty Sunshine when I worked for him. I heard Will say to me exactly what I said to him.

“Everything is ‘Wrong, No, No, not like that.’ You don’t listen to anything I say or let me work something out my way.”

These are cotton hats to put over your amputated stump when using your prostethic leg.

Everytime I hear the phrase prostethic leg I think of an excellent fight story told by Kenny “hawkeye” Hawkins (who refuses to be called Kenny any longer). To put words in his mouth:

“This was in Burlington Vermont. I come out of a bar feeling froggy and bump into some guy. He pushes me and I stumble a bit then yell at him, ‘come on man, I got a prostethic leg!’

The guy pauses for a second, so I punch him in the face and run.”

Dear Mr. Hawkins. Thank you.

Had lunch here. Egg on my hamburger. Waitress was new. Young. Poured my beer straight to bottom of my glass and the head poured onto the table. I showed her to tip the glass and pour it on the side.

It’s a question I’m forced to ask myself every day. As I try to put something back together I’ve taken apart, and the wires won’t lay flat enough to allow the cover to close and the tiny nut won’t thread on the recessed post, I ask myself, “Why the fuck why?”

It’s a prayer of the unbeliever who doubts any of this makes sense. It’s the Mad Libs of talking points for the frustrated. You can fill in the blank with anything you’re angry with and expose how the world is built to work against you. Furthermore, it reveals you have bitten off more than you can chew when you decided to enter adulthood and the workforce.
“Why the fuck why can’t I get the Phillips bit out of the screw gun?”

Either I’m too dumb to understand a tool mass produced for the very application of quick changing between jobs, or people are building corporations selling construction tools that don’t work. Either way I lose and I’m forced to ask the question.

It’s not a pretty question. I apologize for that. But a question born out of the fear and confusion of a world freshly revealed to be working against you, a world that thinks you’re dumb, a world that wants to kill you too quickly, this question deserves to have the F word right up front.

By up front I mean to say there are two questions within this one question.

Why the fuck
and
Why.

Why the fuck is the question directed at the whole thing. Why did we stop being cavemen? Why does sugar taste so good but give us diabetes? And same about alcohol, but it makes us drive onto the sidewalk and kill indiscriminately. And why do people like to bite during sex? Why do I hate the ones I love?

That’s the gist of the first question. The second question is reserved for the more local and immediate example.

Why do I keep banging my head on that same low pipe? Why can’t I pay a parking ticket in 20 days? These little why’s make me think I’m still not an adult. That I should go back to school where teachers have answers. That I should be getting a higher level of care from the state because I can’t live up to these expectations of buckling up every time and coming to a stop at every red light.

When things get really bad, well, that’s what hammers are for.

Went to the flea yesterday. Lots of weird skateboards up for grabs.

Kathleen and Seth are moving to LA so we had a sidewalk sale. This guy came through with latex exam gloves and cigarettes.

He buys used appliances. Pays no more than $40. The place is full of spare parts all stacked up like a junkies bedroom.

Saw this in our travels today. Was hooked up to a hydraulic switch. Guess they retract?