Marzuki Online

THE MASTER VISTS “THE MASTERS”….zuki struts his stuff…. sort of

Jan 27

Posted by Marzuki in Bigotry, curmudgeon, Golf, Masters, Mr. Hankey, Road Trip, zealots | 6 Comments

Good Morning Hootie Johnson Wherever You Are,

In the ever widening technical gap between youth and curmudgeon-dom, there was a small but significant victory for those struggling with continual flashing 12:00’s.  Working for a high-tech company forever on the leading edge presents an ongoing challenge for this observer of things.  For those of you not aware of my current employment dilemma, I’ve submitted a plan to increase our market share among less populated cities utilizing a number of federal grant programs.  The younger sales force, several of which were hired by me some 13-15 years ago, has complained about my plan, crying these smaller departments are not worthy of their valuable time.  Considering their collective dismal year in 2011 they have little to stand on.  It’s time to do something different!

Our Product Manager and I were sent to what would be a typical location in my grand scheme to organize and execute a sales presentation to three county and five city (7,000 largest population of five) police departments.  We were to assess and report back.  This morning when I arrived for work, there were two email messages from this abbreviated list asking for formal quotes totaling $9,895.00!!  I was pleased to say the least!

Our Representative who only lives two hours away, declined to show up.  I suspect it was his way of thumbing his nose at my plan but ultimately it did not serve him well.  Not only did the new accounts become house accounts with zero commissions but was put on probation for his f-ing job…long overdue if you ask me!  I’VE BECOME THE MESSINGER OF DEATH!!

Having the mettle and wherewithal to conciliate small town Georgia law enforcement brought about an ebullience I’ve not felt for some time.  With a sense of purpose we made our way to Augusta National Golf Course; home of “The Masters” one of the major tournaments played by professional golfers.  The place is a conservative institution where decorum is paramount; it is a place where traditions and the integrity of the game are jealously guarded.  In short one the last bastions of bigotry that segregates financially; covering their collective asses.  

As we approached the course it became clear this hallowed ground developed by the legendary Bobby Jones is in fact a barbed wired compound with armed guards at every entry point.  It’s like having a beautiful couch but covered in plastic.  You can see the beauty but can’t feel and inhale the luxury.  We were forced to park in one of several overflow lots and cross a busy street.  Once at the “Member Entrance” the large Black man guarding the entry looked at his watch, and without looking up told me I had three minutes to take my ‘photo op.’  This explains the above photo.

Knowing the Augusta National Golf Club to be what it is DID NOT dampen my victory lap at the office though, and strutted around telling my fellow workers and execs “The old man still has it!”  I’ll have to tone it down today as I suspect it’s become a bit over the top.  Even though the immediate order was probably a fluke occurrence, I’m sticking to my story!

zuki

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NURSE CUSH SAVES THE DAY….zuki discovers beer

Jan 23

Posted by Marzuki in Beer, brain dead, Colonoscopy, Cush, Health Issues, Humpty Hump, Innocent, Pain, stinky feet, Urinal Cakes | 9 Comments

Good Morning Victims of Self-Esteem,

This weekend provided some much needed rest to at last defeat the first malady of the 2012 rotation.  This one has been pretty aggressive.  Not only the congestion normally associated with a cold, but this one included the dreaded dry coughing fit at 2:00 AM.  I took ‘Zicam’ to supposedly lessen the cold’s severity, but it’s difficult to say whether or not it worked.  It’s taken most of a week, and the symptoms have diminished somewhat, but that’s about as long as I remember a cold lasting anyways!  I’m concerned I may have fallen victim to two things; letting hope overcome reason, and a slick marketing campaign.  But to be honest I didn’t follow the directions and was inconsistent at best.

I was walking to Blondies on Friday for Dawn’s (our tough as nails bartender) birthday/bon voyage party and noticed the wind to be howling through the breezeway my pathway to the bar.  It had to be near 80 mph!  Half-way I noticed a large garbage bag (empty) zigging and zagging its way toward me.  Every time I moved it would shift directions and again fling itself at me until unavoidably it hit me in the face and immediately wrapped around my head.  It smelled of burnt rubber but more importantly I was blind.  For reasons unknown to me I continued to walk while trying to extract myself and ran directly into a metal sculpture.  I don’t know the artist but ironically it was an abstract of a man hoisting what appears to be a beer.  I had knocked myself unconscious.

When I came to the first thing I saw was Cush holding a sandwich to my face telling me to eat it.  Words don’t begin to describe the horror of such a visual assault.  Besides all he could offer was a potato and baloney with Mayo; it was actually pretty good.  Cush helped me to my feet but I still felt a bit unsettled and found one of several benches and sat down.  Nurse Cush in his zeal to heal disappeared into Blondies and returned with a plastic cup of beer.  You must understand, drinking beer is Cush’s cure for everything!  Sipping my medicinal beer I was puzzled by his insistence that beer has mystical powers.  “What other maladies do you think beer cures?” I queried.  Cush puffing up his chest replied, “Oh shit there’s a ton of things beer can treat!”  He then began to list them.  “It cures phlebitis, jock itch, sausage fingers, constipation, dandruff, cock-eyed-ness, worts, pancake breath, dry mouth, and makes a damn fine colonic.”  I was stupefied!

I rubbed the rather large goose egg that had appeared after my collision and got to my feet.  Nurse Cush insisted that he pour the remainder of my beer directly over my wound guaranteeing me it would greatly reduce the swelling and ease the pain. Unfortunately, he also managed to spill beer down the front of my shirt.  I made a silent promise to kill him.

Still a bit unsteady I began to stagger toward Blondies and as luck would have it the Littlewood Police was parked in front.  Holding the few drops of beer left in the cup and smelling like a brewery I was arrested for public intoxication and taken straight to ‘De-tox’ for observation.  Jeez.

If the two or three of you reading this remora happen to see Cush please tell him his days among the living are numbered!!

zuki

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A ROAD TRIP ONCE AGAIN….zuki finds ezana and blow job

Jan 20

Posted by Marzuki in Art, Beer, Blathering, Celebrities, Changes, Drunken sloppy, Dwarfs, Foie Gras, Mardi Gras, Nipples, Road Trip, Sackcloth & Ashes, Urinal Cakes, Virgins | 8 Comments

Good Morning Revelers,

I’ll be in Augusta, GA next week.  For most business pros getting on an airplane to make a sales call is routine.  It’s nothing out of the ordinary simply because it would be one of many during the year, but for me it’s something special.  I haven’t made a sales call in about five years!  The closer the date gets the more excited I become.  In fact every time I think about it my nipples get hard!  While it’s only get in and get out I’m there to deliver a message and facilitate a sale.  Wow…

In thinking about this it’s actually pretty pathetic. Being so excited about something I did for 25 years seems anti-climatic.  But this life style went away so quickly and without the formality of a gold watch, that it’s never been finalized in my mind.  It’s like I’ve made a deal with the devil to deucedly redeem myself and once again claim greatness!  Okay that’s a bit melodramatic, so let’s just say I’m pumped.

With just a twist of irony, I’ll be in New Iberia, LA Feb 15th just a week from ‘Fat Tuesday.’  I’m thinking that the two or three of you reading this cortege didn’t realize Mardi Gras celebration is conducted throughout the state starting the 1st of February ending in the ‘French Quarter’ Tuesday the 21st.  New Iberia has the Krewe of Ezana Mardi Gras Parade starting on the 12th so with any luck at all I’ll be blessed with a blow job.  The challenge of course is not to get so hammered I’m unable to perform at a high level.  At the very least, based on my two previous visits, it’ll generate a righteous story for the ‘Diatribe.’

Ezana (active early to middle 4th century) was an Ethiopian king during the Axumite period. His reign marked a turning point in Ethiopian history because Christianity became the state religion when he became the first Christian king. (Answers.com)

The additional benefit to my leaving town centers on a change of scenery.  Bluster and bullshit seem to go much further around people that don’t know you.  The old shtick is new and even interesting to strangers; particularly over a few drinks!   Can’t wait.  

zuki

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JUST ONE MORE TEBOW RELATED THING….zuki spills his beer

Jan 18

Posted by Marzuki in Acceptance, Bagwan, Beer, Blathering, Drunken sloppy, Football, God, Jesus, Old People, Tebow, zealots | 12 Comments

Good Morning Prophets of Profligacy,

Never being one to lavish praise upon my own head, I’m somewhat reluctant to unfold this small mishap.  But given the events of this weekend I feel it’s relevant.  While some of you, you know, the two or three of you reading this outrance know me to possess a keen eye for detail and carefully examine all options, when in reality my consequences are random at best.  This was never more apparent than last weekend.  We mountain folk had worked ourselves into a frothy’d frenzy that bordered on lunacy watching time crawl to the Bronco’s 6:30 start.  You could witness “Tebow-ing” in every parking lot and restaurant in town!  I even saw proud parents watch their prodigy(s) mimic “adults” and provide their own version.  It was sad really.  Never-the-less the excitement filled the air and all public places saw old and new  jersey’s worn and “GO BRONCO’S!” replaced the typical “see you later” as if this would be enough to carry the day.  Unfortunately, these people really did believe God would finish what young Tebow had started.  In my 60 plus rotations I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

As you may have read over the last two weeks I enjoy making sport of this sort of blind and in this case misguided hero worship.  Certainly if you’ve followed this forum for a while I take plenty of ribbing if not direct shots to the groin now and then, but I wasn’t prepared to be physically accosted for a minor ‘truth in jest’ comment directed at one of these morons.

I was at Appleby’s having lunch cashing in one of several gift cards received this Xmas, and as I always do sat at the small bar.  It quickly got crowded so the bar became a 2nd option for seating and eventually made room for an older couple (older than me).  I had finished my cardboard with sweet & sour sauce and was nursing an ice cold beer when Helen (wearing her #15 – ‘Jesus’ jersey) introduced herself by asking me if I had prayed for Timmy to have a good day.  But before I could respond Helen launched into a stream of consciousness rambling about Tebow’s righteous example to our youth, his football prowess, and his eventual place in the “Ring of Fame.”  It was clear her husband Frank didn’t share in her enthusiasm as he’d roll his eyes behind her so only I could see.  I couldn’t help it.  Frank’s rolling eyes and mocking hand gestures simulating her babbling caused me to blow beer out of my nose and onto Helen’s prized jersey! It was only a few drops and easily absorbed by a napkin but my continued chortling must have set her off. 

 I thought I’d lighten the moment with a comment about Tebow being God’s other son and would forgive such a minor indiscretion thinking we’d all get a good chuckle; I was mistaken!  The syrupy sweet smile was immediately replaced by a loathing wish you were dead look, and got off her stool.  Snagging her purse Helen blindsided me on the top of my head causing me to spill the half a beer onto the floor and broke the mug.  “You smug son of a bitch” she screamed and took another swing at me only this time I was able to grab the purse and took it from her.  This only served to further enrage her and in a flailing of her little fists she once again came at me.  Frank and the Manager finally overcame their shock and came to my rescue.  Frank in a bear-hug move grabbed his wife around the stomach and pulled her away still kicking and swinging at me.  She finally calmed down and apologized to the Manager.  However, upon their exit Helen turned around and flipped me the bird. 

I happily waved goodbye

zuki

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AFTERMATH OF TEBOW’S CRUSHING DEFEAT…..zuki examines carnage

Jan 13

Posted by Marzuki in Jesus, Murder, Pain, passion, Sackcloth & Ashes, Suicide Pact, Tebow, Torture, Virgins | 26 Comments

Good Morning Porcellous Dupes,

I spent a rough night in sleepless agony reliving each bungled play of yesterday’s implosion.  The apocrypha brought about by young Timmy Tebow will at last come to an end.  The saddened believers can now go about the business of life’s rich pageant and perhaps begin to believe in themselves.  Clinging to 24 year olds to deliver us from mediocrity is not a question of faith as many have supported this week; rather it’s become a football thanatopsis with Tebow’s burial scheduled for 6:00 PM tomorrow. 

I really haven’t checked but highly suspect a dozen people couldn’t face life without Tebow and ate a bullet.

The self-imposed deaths may have saved them from perhaps a more ignominious demise.  There was rioting in our sparkling city last night.  I couldn’t bear to watch so I closed my shutters and bolted my doors to ride out the killing, looting, and burning.  Finally the chaotic cacophonous grating of broken glass and screaming was silenced.  I instinctively felt better.

It was still and quiet as the sun began to lift us from the dark.  I dressed, unbolted the doors, and then took my first step outside since the tragic chain of events in Boston.  The early dawn revealed thousands of smoldering fires, the smoke rising straight up seemed to sit in place in the cold air like ropes that fell from the sky.  Sporadic gun fire could be heard in the distance as I began searching the rubble for friends and loved ones.  I was stupefied at the level of destruction!  Broadway literally looked like a war zone complete with bombed out buildings.  The death toll is no doubt staggering.

With the smell of death heavy in the air I kept asking myself, “Why did this happen?”  “How did we get to this point?”  We the nation’s mountain people turned on ourselves and devoured our young simply because we believed!  Was not Tebow the chosen one?  As it turned out in front of a national TV audience, Timmy does not walk on water nor can he read an NFL defense. 

This hideous example of human kind could have been avoided.  Think about it.  How is it in an 8 and 8 season losing their last three games backing into the Division Championship led by a young quarterback with less than a 50% completion rate generate such obsequious flattery?  It really defies explanation doesn’t it?  Yet I think I understand how an entire city or country for that matter tried to touch Tebow’s robe.

The old adage “perception is truth” has been used in sales since the beginning of time.  With the help of today’s media we perceived the traits normally assigned to Gods or heroes were personified in Tebow and he dragged us kicking and screaming to higher ground.  Let’s just hope we as a people have learned the lesson we at the ‘Diatribe’ admonish almost daily; NEVER LET HOPE OVERCOME REASON!!!

zuki

There are 26 Comments to this post.