Jul 22
A Sacrifice to the Gods of Industry I did not help usher my son into this world so that he could give his life over to Hydra Hydraulics, slaving through twelve-hour shifts in stifling heat for shitheel managers. However, I didn’t intend to have him sit around the house playing video games all fucking day, …
Jul 15
Living Ain’t For Everybody I emerge from my study for two goddam minutes, just trying to grab a cherry limeade Frostie out of the kitchen when I hear a raspy voice pronounce ominously. “119.” I don’t have to ask what the number signifies; it’s all the old bastard has been talking about since the first …
Jul 08
You Gonna Bark All Day Little Doggie, Or Are You Gonna Mourn The Passing of an American Legend I always take off work the week of the fourth of July. I never actually celebrate the holiday. I dislike the government, got too much cool shit to embrace anarchy, so my politics are complicated, but more …
Jul 01
She Has Steve Buscemi Hair (And Eyes) I end the week with a little extra money in my pocket. Perhaps my son’s bills were not quite as harrowing as they had been in past months. I don’t know. It’s likely I forgot to pay something. Anyway, since I don’t believe in saving toward retirement and …
Jun 24
For Fernando One day Fernando is here, the next day he is gone, like a Middle Eastern restaurant in rural Alabama. We sing songs to honor the two days he spent with us, straining his guts out to lift forty pounds of metal off a rack. Fernandooooo! Gone but not forgotten That lazy Guatemalan …
Jun 17
Slave Labor We’re into the second day of chrome shop training with Fernando, and I’m still not entirely sure he understands a fucking word I’m saying. I continue speaking what passes for English in Alabama accompanied by frenetic hand gestures, pantomime that becomes increasingly agitated with his every expression of surprise and disbelieving shake of …
Jun 03
Every Idiot is Somebody’s Son When my son loses his job as he invariably must, he won’t admit it right away, but I always know. He gets a squirrelly look in his eyes. I’ve no better way to describe it. His eyes get squirrelly. Now, I’ve been told squirrels can be stupidly industrious. I don’t …
May 27
I May Not Control the Narrative, But Occasionally I Supervise It For four and a half years I supervised the assembly plant at Hydra Hydraulics. It wasn’t what I set out to do with this life, but I settled into it easily enough. I even grew to like it. The job appealed to the lazier …
May 20
If You’re Reading This, Then I Must Have Managed to Write a Column Yesterday So, my plan for last weekend ideally involved relaxing for hours on the front porch with my feet propped up and a book in my lap. I even had my clothes picked out, white linen trousers and a thin sky-blue button-down …
May 13
You’ve Been Milted I’ve managed to escape the factory for two whole days and I’m intent on wiling the hours away in as lazy a manner as I can muster, sitting beside my wife on the front porch, watching the world pass by. For this brief moment, I experience the closest sensation to contentment the …
