Archive for category Mr. Hankey

FREDDY KRUEGER RUNS THE I.R.S….zuki finishes bottle of ketel one

Good Morning Seekers of Alms,

I have ambivalent thoughts in just about all themes or categories.  I apologize in advance, but honestly this feeling of worthlessness comes each year at tax time.  There’s nothing like filing taxes to reinforce what a fucking loser one has become.  The fact we’re not alone is of little comfort. Birthdays…piece of cake!  Drop smoking…nothing if not a sense of triumph!  Artwork, professional recognition (zero enumeration), both of which are things important to me; but pale when compared to the I.R.S. and its handiwork.   Have you accessed the I.R.S. website lately?  If not, I’d encourage you to hit the ‘forms’ link.  There are at least 1,500 forms representing all manner of tax obligations, explanations, penalties, as well as payments due!  While there are a few of you (they know who they are) that can afford competent professionals that understand and keep up with current tax revisions.  But for the unwashed making payments to the I.R.S. we can’t afford such trust.  Do we REALLY need 1,500 tax forms and addendums?  I think not!

God I hate to sound so ungrateful, I do appreciate the freedoms and opportunities that avail themselves to those of us willing and prepared to receive them!  But you have to understand!  I’m the victim in all of it!  Please bear with me because I know this is the seventh (7th) annual spewing of distain and contempt for the tax system we’ve adopted as law.  However, in spite of my willingness to pay my fair share, I must “Rage against the machine;” nothing less than you would expect.

The above certainly explains my rational but doesn’t really get to the heart of the matter.  Finishing off the Ketle One and Pinot Noir in the same evening, thrust me into a state that could only be described as a mix of blind hate and self pity.    The act of accounting for the year serves as the “Oracle’s Eye” revealing the raw truth both ugly and odd.

DAMN IT!….I REALLY MEANT WELL…THIS SHIT HAS BEFALLEN ME INSPITE OF MY BEST EFFORTS!

Okay, I’m sorry for the emotional outbreak, but it couldn’t be helped.  Roger the ‘Hairdresser’ has been beside himself over his alleged $15K tax bill making everyone’s life miserable in the process.  If I take on similar countenances please choke me out.  No charges will be filed. 

I think we’re all familiar with the scripture regarding how “the truth will set you free.”  I’m here to tell you that’s a load of skid marks!  Hyperbole wins most times.  I can hear you mollusks now,…”zuki isn’t what you’re saying is that your best efforts are a lie?”…WAIT A MINUTE…not so fast!  What I’m trying to tell the two or three of you still reading this post mark is absolute truth is not always beneficial!  It’s difficult to gage the right mix.  Never-the-less, it seems times have changed and it’s become necessary to secure someone better at it than I am.

zuki

THE BEAST OF BLONDIES SUCKS….zuki owes life to cush

Good Morning Leviathans,

As we straighten the perennial stack of papers, clean the Cheeze Whiz off the desk, and leave our collective cubicles for the weekend, I think it important to contemplate the joy of life’s rich pageant and it’s never ending surprises.  Keeping on one’s toes while perched atop a bar stool takes careful planning and attention to detail.  Where alcohol is involved waiting for something to happen is simply a matter of time.  Granted we can’t always predict the exact activity, but it’s always entertaining! 

Cush is a good man even though he wears his ‘Teamsters’ jacket like an old letter sweater.  While Cush couldn’t chew gum and walk at the same time, and never owned a letter sweater, but I sense he drives a truck well enough to earn a stripe.  Having said this though, his antics at Blondies have become legendary.  In fact, for the two or three of you actually reading this hose-clamp his fearless display of grit against overwhelming odds has the entire bar abuzz!  Sipping a Vodka Tonic (double or triple) a foul odor wafted through our establishment simultaneously with the plodding vibrations only Phat Ass Patty can generate.  I looked around just as an entire speaker to the sound system got sucked up and completely engulfed between her cellulite cottage cheese rippled with fat legs and up and into her gargantuan ASS!  Bent on revenge for the bar’s collective cold shoulder, the Phat one intended to throw the fear of certain death into the hearts of all Blondies patrons. 

Fearing for my life I pulled up from my stool and climbed over the bar to hide hoping I’d not be discovered.  I crawled on my hands and knees working my way to the kitchen door which would lead me out the back and into fresh air.  I could hear screaming as chairs, tables, and stage carpeting were being sucked into the Phat one’s ass.  It sounded like the perfect time to make a break for it.  As I was about to turn into the kitchen, waddling before me was Phat Ass’s blubber-ous pustulated pockmarked legs!  They were wrapped with miscellaneous power cords and carpet remnants hanging from her ass and had already inflicted tremendous devastation!  It was too late.  Laughing maniacally the drooling beast began sucking in through its ass.  I was stupefied by the level of suction generated and felt my 250 lb frame begin to move.  I clung helplessly to the bar mats as my legs were now lifted in the air forcing me to fingernail the kitchen door knowing my awful demise was moments away.

I had no strength left and had resigned myself to the black hole of death when out of the blue Cush leaped on the back of this deranged ogre causing it to release me while it tossed Cush around like a rag doll.  Only thinking of myself I escaped through the kitchen and out the door to sweet freedom.  I cringed and covered my ears as Cush’s screaming died down and then complete silence.  My good friend gave up his life for my wretched existence!

Feeling ashamed of my selfish behavior some two hours later I returned to Blondies vowing to kill Phat Ass!  Upon my arrival though it looked as if it was over as police and fire – rescue people were everywhere.   Phat Ass had finally been overpowered by police stun guns and tear gas lying on her side shitting out various pieces of furniture and glass beer mugs.  Cush was nowhere to be found.  But just as I turned to grieve for my friend, I saw Cush’s arm drop into view.  I got the attention of JJ who was still shaking from the scare and together we pulled the rest of Cush’s shit stained body out and called the paramedics. 

They were able to revive him, but our good friend is in a catatonic state and unresponsive to outside stimuli.  Currently he’s under observation at the Loretta Heights ‘Cotton Box’ and it wouldn’t kill you to give him a visit.  They say he likes candy cigarettes.

zuki

WE’VE BECOME A POLICE STATE…..zuki ties a yellow ribbon

Good Morning, and Malfeasance Aside:

I’m particularly troubled today (surprise there eh), at the unabashed harassment of those of us that drive within reason, and always with a purpose. As many of you are aware, Police traffic officers are primarily made up of young 23 to 27 year old men and now have admitted women to the club. This has created a senescent-gap between the “Baby Boomers” and the Sub-X generation. I’m old enough to be their fathers, and represent an authority figure such as a school teacher, or probably a coach they hated and not far removed from their lives. This has not only become a problem, but has now reached societal persecution on the highest level, there needs to be governmental protection. Let me give you an example:

I’m driving down the street enjoying the recently arrived Spring weather (Denver is always 6 weeks behind the rest of the country) listening to one of my favorite CD’s from Tony Orlando and Dawn; “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round’ the Old Oak Tree” and had the volume up, as it’s a real toe-tapper. Unbeknownst to me a young motorcycle cop was two car lengths behind and in the opposite lane, and couldn’t help but hear my musical selection. Within minutes he pulled me over. He said it was because of my excessive speed. I was going 29 in a 25 mph zone! I had no idea he was harboring such animosity.  What a supreme prick! The truth was finally revealed as to his motivation.  Just as he returned my license, he said, “sir, as a word to the wise, you may want to either turn your music down or select another CD, because you’re going to piss off every officer in ear-shot of your car”. He walked away grinning at me with a smirk reminiscent of the playground; “naa-nan-a-nan-ah”. I wanted to ground him for a month!

So please, those of you who can see the victimization and brutal prejudice permeating our great land, join with me in writing your Senator. It’s never too late to write a strongly worded letter detailing your outrage.

Revolution Now!!!!

zuki

PHAT ASS PATTY SLIMED IN….zuki has little time left

Good Morning Lovers of Life’s Rich Pageant,

It’s finally sinking in that my days on this rock are numbered and could jump off any day now.  The chickens of my youth have indeed come home to roost.  When you combine that with my non-existent exercise program, being fat, and having an all around bad attitude toward my own future has become a lethal combination!  Further signs of numbered days waddled into Blondie’s last week, and have made several appearances with her good friend ‘Touched.’ These two examples of God’s willingness to tolerate the ugly, justifies my agnostic mind set.  Yes I’m sure you’ve already guessed by now, Phat Ass Patty sees my home bar as fertile ground!

For the two or three of you actually reading this conniption that haven’t had the loathsome experience of meeting this human sap sucker let me provide a bit of background.  She plodded into Dewey’s (our former home of seven years) and immediately began to hang around the peripherals of the former ‘rules committee’ and I immediately took a disliking to her.  Anyone so desperate for companionship they feel compelled to force themselves on you is undeserving of air.  Then she upped the ante by sitting at the bar in chairs normally reserved for our trivia players displacing me and others.  Forced to sit at a table behind the bar one couldn’t help notice that Phat Ass Patty’s ass literally sagged over both edges of a fairly large chair. Her moniker seemed obvious to me and “Phat Ass Patty” stuck.  Eventually she was shunned and browbeaten away from having direct contact with the ‘rules committee’ and life was good.

Her absence was short lived though, she reappeared and hung out on the smoking patio where she’d target men and get them to buy her drinks.  She’s so fucking hideous she’d strike out a half dozen times before she’d close the deal.  Typically there’s never a shortage of men hanging out at a bar so it fit her shameless system.  However, when things got tough and finding new prospects became difficult, she then threw herself at both men and women with a pathetic story of suicide and how her miserable life left her nothing to live for!  After a week of watching this act I felt it necessary to confront her.  So with the entire bar watching I told her to “pull the trigger!”  “Quit talking about it and do us all a favor and jump in front of a bus!” I screamed.  The tirade was brief but to the point so being highly embarrassed she sluggardly shuffled out the door.  There were a few patrons that were not familiar with Phat Ass’s tactics and thought I was an asshole, but the majority gave me a standing ovation and even bought me drinks!

Sadly there doesn’t seem to be any limit to her mooching; now older and Phatter she’s offering blow jobs for beer.  All I can do is hope this sad excuse for a woman will eventually run out of prospects and take her greasy Phat Ass to another bar.

I’ll keep you posted.

zuki

PATRICK FANNING HAS ISSUES…..zuki finds love in a coat room

Good Morning Archie Wherever You Are,  

With all the Fanning hype I’ve been somewhat reluctant to bring up what’s sure to be controversial if not embarrassing for the Fanning families.  The only reason I’m unveiling this story now, is to prove to the two or three of you reading this ‘muff dive’ that Patrick Fanning is not infallible.  That’s right Mr. Clean got a little out of his league back in Chicago. 

Few know or remember that Fanning was awarded membership in the Phi Beta Kappa Society in 1997.  As you know, the Phi Beta Kappa Society “celebrate and advocate excellence in the liberal arts and sciences”; and induct “the most outstanding students of arts and sciences at America’s leading colleges and universities.” Unbeknownst to most of you I also am a member in good standing of this wonderful organization.  There’s an annual meeting of the society membership and like most such conferences they’re held in a different city throughout North America each year.  I normally don’t bother with this or class reunions, but I happened to be in Chicago in 1998 on business at the same time so I registered.

I’d finished with my sales calls (formal suit and tie) and headed directly to ‘Water Tower Place’ home to the Omni Hotel.  I walked in and secured my name badge and gift bag.  I never know quite what to do with a cheap logo bag containing stationary and a meal ticket so I generally leave it on a chair and move on.  I used to bring them home to my kids until they got old enough to realize Dad was a cheapskate!

I found the cocktail ‘mixer’ and headed in.  There was already a pretty good crowd gathered with a line four deep at the two portable bars brought in.  I snagged a Vodka Tonic and began to survey the room.  I’d been divorced almost a year and continually on the lookout for ‘nasty’ women seeking “hump-hump” particularly at an out of town hotel!  Standing near the fireplace were two nice looking women talking with a young Patrick Fanning.  Although his rookie year being the #1 draft pick I immediately recognized him and joined them in conversation.  The older woman ended up being the young woman’s aunt who was also a member.  The drinks flowed non-stop so by the time the band began to play Evelyn was feeling no pain, and I saw a big ‘green light.’

Young Fanning and Evelyn’s niece found a quiet spot in the adjoining ball room.  However, soon after, everyone heard high pitched screaming.  It wasn’t a scream of pain or pleasure, rather a scream of shock.  It was muffled a bit by the band, but was distinct.  Evelyn sobered up and acted like she knew exactly what was happening.  She grabbed my hand and together we made our way to the ball room and walked in hitting the light switch at the same time.

The squealing was coming from Patrick!  It seems the niece turned out to be Evelyn’s nephew and had our new quarterback pinned trying to force the hapless Fanning into a perverted ‘69’ position with our boy’s trousers around his ankles.  Evelyn screamed “Larry get off him right now…you heard me…right now!  You promised me….Damn it Larry you promised” and then quickly turned around and left the room with me in hot pursuit.  Pulling out a cigarette it was clear Evelyn was upset.  I tried to console her but was inconsolable.  “Does this mean you and I are not having sex” I plied?  “No I’m not in the mood” she quipped stubbing her cigarette out in a soiled coffee cup.  Brushing me aside she got her coat and left in a huff. 

Damn it!

Fanning appeared soon after straightening his coat and tie.  Without a word we briefly made eye contact as he walked past me to the elevators and disappeared.

Welcome to Denver Patrick!  If you need to get hooked up let me know.  I’ll put you in touch with JJ who also enjoys visits with his nieces.

zuki