Long greeting…. But never mind, okay shit I owe the two or three of you reading this farrago some sort of an apology.  I’m simply fucking sick!  Flu like symptoms to be sure, but have a tough time dealing with flem in a gracious manner.  It’s very similar to the malady suffered last month, only worse!  Fever and ever increasing thoughts of suicide plague both my conscious as well as night terrors.  As you might guess, this leaves little time for rest let alone sleep.   I weep for my future!

My trifling maladies really aren’t relevant to today’s posting, but certainly must be considered when contemplating a reply/comment.  This will be a brief admonition but nonetheless important.  Okay, here goes, when Life’s Rich Pageant suggests working with animals, don’t fight it; just give in to living in animal squalor.  In nearly every case, Hollywood animal acts bring in twice union scale, leaving the actors twisting in the wind abandoned by their respective agents.  Go ahead pet the dog like you mean it!

zuki

PS:

I seem to be meandering looking for something that isn’t there, and for that I apologize.  For those of you and God knows who you are, rooting for me even in the most modest fashion, God bless you and yours.  Those of you wishing me ill, let me quote a well intentioned curmudgeon, “Look it up your ass!”  I hope I didn’t shock you with this abrupt and coarse language.  But I’m just sayin….

In this world of gadgetry and slick electronics designed to streamline one’s life it’s hard to imagine a world without this magic.  I remember vividly pounding out 50 words per minute on an old Underwood typewriter.  Remember ‘White Out?’ It made typing much easier with a clean copy free of strikethroughs and marveled at such a simple idea.   None of my children would recognize a typewriter.  Curmudgeons in general try to keep up with the latest technology and swell with pride when we figure out how to use an ‘Ap’ on our ‘Smart Phones.’ But most are like me; flashing 12:00s on all appliances, universal remote controls dumbfound us, phones that double as a camera, and MP3 players that can hold more songs than all of us know combined tend to escape the curmudgeonus ones.  Give us something we can wrap our collective arms around, you know, something like a truck or car, now there’s something we can handle!

I had the great opportunity to travel to New Iberia, LA (home of Tabasco Sauce) on business and was accompanied by my camera man Vinny.  For the two or three of you reading this flounce Vinny is the official videographer of the ‘Diatribe.’  He is also the holder of a company Visa card therefore responsible for our travel expenses; in particular hotels and rental cars.  Getting off the plane in Baton Rouge we were immediately taken in by the 75 degree humidity free air.  I felt rejuvenated as I stuffed my leather jacket into my bag and rolled up my sleeves.  The ‘mountain folk’ were basking in 35 degree bluster.  While I watched for our equipment cases to arrive, Vinny walked to the Hertz counter and selected a cute little Mazda that had an electronically controlled 4-speed auto/manual transmission with slope control.  However, this wonderful feature came as a surprise to our Vincent.

Vinny is all business behind the wheel and generally drives 10 to 20 mph slower than the irritated traffic flow.  He managed to find reverse and we at last were on our way! Unfortunately when he gave it some gas he redlined the engine but could only manage 4 mph.  Lurching forward then stopping then forward, and then stopping etc…  Vinny began to panic and I began to laugh hysterically.  Like a mad man he slapped, clicked, pulled, pressed, and violently shook the stick until accidentally he found the proper slot and we were free of low gear.  It reminded me of the day I taught my daughter to drive using a manual transmission and clutch, our little Honda was never the same.  It took me a bit to regain my composure.

Earlier in the week I got an I-Phone 4 and proved I also was not immune to a technology meltdown.  My alarm sounded reminding me to call a local Pizza place to arrange for delivery to those attending our sales presentation.  I had written all the information necessary on the reminder but soon discovered I lacked the technical ability to multi-task.  The least little breath on an icon will cause the screen to change losing what I had so frustratingly found.  Trying to use my I-phone was bad enough, but when you combine that with the depth of stupidity of those I was trying to order from staggers the mind, and after the 8^th attempt I lost it.  I grabbed the phone as if it was the moron at the other end and choked it shaking it back and forth screaming a line of profanity at the illiterate footle on the other end.  While it accomplished nothing, I felt much better.

Yes technology is a good thing overall, but I contend it’s a double edged sword.  As Vincent as well as I demonstrated, we can embrace new technology, but only after a humiliating display of incompetence.

zuki

I wanted you good people to be the first to know. I hit the Powerball numbers last night! While I had to split it 32 ways $10.5 million should cover my remaining days on this rock.  Life as I know it no longer makes sense. Oh I’ll be around from time to time, as I have substantial history here. But let’s face it; Kona is damn pleasant this time of year, or any time of year for that matter.  

I’ve already sent my children ahead to locate the perfect spot for old Dad. While I have the final say of course, my eldest son is in charge. I got the pic yesterday afternoon and the view posted is first on their list. In the meantime though, I’ve reserved “Huggo’s on the Beach” for my extended family and moronic associates. I’m flying the Hooter’s girls in from Honolulu to assist the local wait staff as well as a few “professionals.”  I’ve rented it out for a week; March 17^th through the 24th.   You should be receiving your tickets/hotel reservations within the week, so don’t kill or hide from the delivery guy.   

Don’t hold back. Really, I won’t be happy until everyone pukes! I’ve employed full Para-medic services, and have secured a chopper to stand-by.  I intend for this party to be epic! There’ll be ‘roast beast’, Shrimp (double dipping is allowed), all manner of cheese with the appropriate wines. A WEEK LONG OPEN BAR! Did I mention we’d have an open bar? In return, I must insist on mandatory attendance the first day to witness a ceremonial jigger melting that is essentially our official ‘opening.’ I’m sorry but I won’t budge on this one!

Accoutrements suitable for the occasion are of course optional. “Tell them what they’ve won Johnny!” As an added bonus, those of you that manage to outlast ole Marzuki will have the option of staying an additional week and be an honored guest at my Kona housewarming party! This will be followed by brunch at the Four Seasons Resort, Hualalai where you and your guest will stay the remaining week.  

There’s one more requirement I must impose on you good people. This will be on the final evening and will have an air of solemnity to it.  You may have already guessed it; shit, you have haven’t you? This party will more than likely be the last time I see many of you, and I wanted to leave a lasting impression; something you could pass along to the grandkids. I will ask everyone to arrive at Huggo’s in formal attire, raise a flute of Dom, and hear the tale of “The Clean Spot” as told by yours truly. For some of you, this may be a deal-breaker and I hope under the circumstances, you’ll choose wisely. Because the entire soiree will last ten days, then it’s back to the mainland for the lot of you while zuki breaks out the hammock.

For future reference, there’s no need to make advanced arrangements, you’re all welcome to drop by anytime. However, I strongly suggest you bring raw meat to distract the dogs.

zuki

The time has come for all of us to re-examine our collective position on children aboard a plane.  Look, I’ve only traveled for business once in the last five years, but always surprised when well-intentioned parents drag their whinny snot-nosed spoiled kids on a plane full of adults looking to relax.  This is not a good mix!  Against the advice of the ‘Rules Committee’ I have taken the initiative to remedy this blatant act of selfishness.  I have drafted a list of demands that will be sent to the FAA, all major airline companies, as well as everyone’s legislative representative.  If that doesn’t work we’ll have no trouble getting the 20,000 signatures to put it on the ballet.  While I don’t expect this will help me this particular travel year, but I’m confident we’ll impact those self-centered parents in the years that follow. 

ALL AIRLINES SHALL BE MANDATED TO ADHERE TO THE FOLLOWING S.O.P.:

1. All children under 12 years of age are forbidden to board any commercial flight unless under emergency conditions.
2. Those parents who’ve not been able to secure baby-sitting or care and insist their children share in their travel experience will be assigned to the “Children’s Travel Bus¹ ” for delivery.
3. While in the care of our screened and highly trained drivers all children are subject to their will.
4. A Priest will be on every trip to ‘comfort’ those children upset by the separation from parents.
5. Every effort will be made to appease screaming children, but if it’s determined by the CTB staff the child is ‘inconsolable’ the staff member has permission to chloroform and subdue unruly child.
6. Those children still in diapers will be changed at least once per day
7.  Children taking prescribed medicines will be put under an induced coma until 2 hours prior to arrival.
8. “Happy Meals” and Diet Coke will be available ‘on demand’ with no additional charge.
9. Infants still breast feeding must be accompanied by a certified ‘Wet Nurse;’ clothing optional.
10.  If no parent or approved guardian is there to meet CTB to retrieve child, the child will be considered ‘abandoned’ and sold for medical experiments.

¹”Children’s Travel Bus” is funded by the Airline industry and extra baggage charges will be allowed.

The above is a small price to pay for a quiet, cozy, and enjoyable flight free of screaming children.  I know it sounds a bit harsh, but honestly wouldn’t you rather be chloroformed and out cold for your next flight to Chicago?  You’ll thank me after your first childless flight!  It’s safe to assume the above will sail through both houses no doubt unopposed.  Just sayin…

zuki

The following account is in tribute to our missing associate Dv’ant.  Nobody does shit like Dv’ant:

Has it ever occurred to the two or three of you reading this peroration that the cause of most misery stems from being constipated?  Yes that’s right.  The inability to have a normal bowel movement is what made Hitler such an asshole.  Historians have now determined the steady diet of goat cheese and fish heads plugged up the average Norsemen so badly they were incapable of any pleasantry thus from shear necessity had to rape and pillage their way to relief. 

Being plugged isn’t limited to old people either.  In American school aged children the rise in obesity has been front page news of late but has now been directly linked to this vile malady.  For years the skyrocketing weight gain of our children was blamed on ‘Happy Meals’ and at last is now being vindicated.  Not only are stopped up bowels uncomfortable, the added time in the system is causing weight gain.  Dr. Joe Philpot of the Children’s Hospital stated at a recent enclave of gastronomes “We owe the McDonald’s Corporation an apology.  We can now prove beyond all doubt the hated ‘Happy Meal’ is innocent!”

Philpot held up his hand signaling a pause, and then said “We’ve been able to create a drilling mechanism that will effectively and gently drain the stoppage allowing for normal metabolic activity” continued Philpot.  According to the good doctor the only side effect stems from excessive gas build up.  When the devise is inserted there is a release valve that is meant to gradually reduce the pressure.  If the attending staff isn’t careful a complete and utter ‘blow out’ can occur leaving the patient with what doctors call a ‘singing sphincter.’  It takes years for the stretched out tissue to regain its elasticity and until it does, every crop dusting and bowel movement results in the old Disney tune “Zippity Doo Dah;” all in A minor.   

zuki

Well another Super Bowl has come and gone and I for one am grateful.  Two weeks of bluster and bullshit about a football game is way more than enough!  Be that as it may, I was pleased to see ‘Mr. Wonderful’ and ‘Yoda’ taste defeat at the hands of a guy who spends his days ‘gaming’ with other nerds. 

Humiliation comes in many forms and not limited to worldwide audiences of 100 million!  Humility is generally served with “A fine Chianti and Fava beans” as one’s heart is ripped from its natural resting place.  With some kind of Cosmic arrangement humility is normally doled out just when one thinks his/her fecal matter smells of lavender; pleasant to all it encounters.  The ‘Bagged One’ has a lovely turn of phrase to describe this phenomenon calling it “Flying up their own asshole.”  Excogitation is painful at best.  This is why it’s easier to rehash or resurrect an old idea because it’s a ‘no risk’ proposition.  New and brilliant is reserved for those yet to suffer humiliation.  As we all know it’s just a matter of time.

This was never truer than over the weekend.  The football game aside, (these millionaires will no doubt recover and move on) there was an ugly incident involving Cush’s big night out.  Given the thumbs up from mama, Cush took advantage of Blondie’s Super Bowl bash where one could order anything from the menu and an open bar from 4:00 PM until the end of the game, all for $35!  To most ‘Teamsters,’ it’s tantamount to double secret triple overtime paid under the table!  The innocent Polish proprietors had no idea who they were dealing with as Cush downed 5 (count em 5) French Dip sandwiches, a bottle and one half of Crown Royal, and nearly a case of Budweiser. 

Nobody was prepared for this level of carnage.  I asked one of the ‘Pollock’s’ if he made any money from his little soiree’ and all he could do was muster a wry smile while shaking his head no.  Evidently they lost their asses and to a man blame Cush, JJ, and Roger the ‘hairdresser.’  The little hairdresser spilled more beer than he consumed.  JJ left then returned with his coat to better facilitate carting his beloved grilled chicken sandwiches away by stuffing his pockets.  

Shameful, just shameful was the collective sigh of the remaining patrons left twisting in the wind.  With nothing to eat or drink justice seemed unattainable as they watched the three old farts inhale enough food and drink for 50.  Yet as most of us know one can’t consume that much without consequences.  Sure enough while chomping down his 5^th French Dip Cush began to choke on the Dill Pickle.  JJ and the little hairdresser were so busy stuffing themselves they failed to see Cush’s distressed situation.  Unable to speak, Cush stood up signaling anyone that cared of his dire need for oxygen.  Turning blue the other patrons turned away and acted as if they didn’t see him feeling very smug about the changing state of affairs.

Running back to JJ and the little hairdresser still pigging out at ‘curmudgeon corner’ Cush blacked out falling directly on the corner of the bar and self administered the Heimlich maneuver launching the soiled pickle directly into JJ’s beer.  Only then did he look up from his plate and assess the chain of events leading to the desecration of his beer.  “What the f—k” JJ screamed, and turned in unison with the little hairdresser as Cush regained consciousness and faced the hungry patrons.  As if scripted, they began to applaud and whistle jeering all three of them.  Needless to say, all three left in a huff.  Really I’m not making this up.

zuki

Do you believe in ‘Karma?’  What goes around comes around?  Do you believe there’s a ledger sheet in the sky in which deeds are measured and balanced?  I’m a bit conflicted about an incident last Friday and seek solace here at the ‘Diatribe.’  As you may have heard, we mountain folk got hammered with two straight days of blizzard conditions dumping more than 2 feet of snow!  Even by Denver standards this was a big storm.    My greatest challenge from these storms is not being locked in.  Riding out the weather watching “I love Lucy” reruns or reading some goofy spy novel is not my idea of fun.  I know from past experience if I can escape and get onto a major thoroughfare I can get to those places to enjoy my normal lifestyle.  Yes, you’ve already guessed it, “The Bar.”

It took nearly 30 minutes to dig my car out and make it street worthy.  I plowed my way through the lot and down the breezeway leading to the street.  There’s only one way in and out of my hovel and low and behold there’s a women stuck in the V shaped gutter adjacent to the street full of snow and slush as anyone with a brain would expect.  Sitting in my car I knew I’d be called on to push her, besides I wasn’t going anywhere until she could extricate herself.  I put the gloves on and got out just as she did.  

It was clear she had no idea what to do so I explained she’d need to rock it back and forth using ‘D’ and ‘R’ while I pushed during the ‘D’ phase.  Traction being a premium it was impossible to make headway.  Sucking it up I kept pushing not for her, but for me so I was motivated to continue.  Sensing escape was near she gunned the engine spraying me up and down with slush but finally made it out!  However, just as I waived acknowledging her “thank you” she unexplainably turned back toward the curb and got trapped again.  Having to deal with oncoming traffic I was reluctant if not afraid to help her a second time.  I was exhausted and cold.

From the car I continued to watch her in disbelief.  She again got out of her car and futilely kicked snow from in front of her tires.  All she managed to do was further enmesh her so she gave up, got out of her car, and stood behind it like the ‘damsel in distress.’  Not once did she make eye contact with me, so as soon as it was clear I took off fast enough to get through the gutter and onto the street never looking back. 

Was this bad?  Am I a terrible person?  Was that my responsibility? Does her abject stupidity factor into this?

Look I’ve had my share of unfortunate situations and certainly don’t need additional pain.  Yet I did work hard allowing the nitwit to escape.  Is not that worthy of the plus column?  But as Ron White would say, “You can’t fix stupid!”  Just sayin….

zuki

“(Our critics) are absolutely right. We are professional liars,” said Everett Davis, founder of the Internet-based Reference Store, which supplies pumped-up, but false, resumes for job-seekers having trouble landing work. Davis and associates are, he told Houston’s KRIV-TV in November, ex-investigators schooled in deception and therefore good at fooling human resources personnel who follow up on the bogus work claims. Davis admitted he would even disguise a customer’s past criminal record — but not if the job is in public safety, health care or schools. [KRIV-TV, 11-16-2011]

I read the above with alarming interest!  Are you kidding me??  A for profit business in which dystrophic “Puffery” is the delivered product?  The ‘Diatribe’ has been involved in a non-profit effort to spread fictitious rumors and innuendo for years!  Once again, I failed to recognize the marketability of bullshit!  Jeez.

zuki

Life’s rich pageant is full if not overflowing with all manner of injustices.  Sure this is probably not a revelation for most of you; nevertheless it’s time to blow the foam off the Demitasse.  I fully understand that for the two or three of you reading this oblation, the ‘occupy this’ movement is silly and incomprehensible.  Most of us believe if you work hard, good things will happen.  Let’s face it, we are the sum total of a lifetime of decisions good and bad; “reap what you sow” if you will.  This isn’t difficult to grasp and I admire those individuals who are self-made; driven to succeed as most of us do.  Yet, there are some individuals even on a level playing field who always get the little extras in life. 

They make me sick.

The over-pour, an extra slice, and the ever popular mint on your pillow seem to happen for a chosen few blessed with an aura that acts as a magnet pulling ‘nice’ from everyone they meet.  I think all of us know someone like this.  I need not look beyond our own for an example.  I walked into Blondies the other day and by chance JJ was there eating a wonderful looking sandwich.  The chicken was thinly cut into narrow slices, while the lettuce was trimmed to frame the lightly toasted freshly baked bread.  The tomato slices were taken from the heart of the red fruit so just the edges appeared beyond the crust.  It was perfect!  I’d never seen the sandwich before and wondered if it was new to the menu.  “JJ what kind of sandwich is that, it really looks good” I drooled.  “It’s a grilled chicken sandwich” he casually replied.  “What!…I’ve had their grilled chicken sandwich before and it never looked like that!.”  JJ shrugged his shoulders and kept up his frantic pace cheeks stuffed with yummy.  My ‘grilled chicken sandwich’ was a smashed partial breast on a raggedy hamburger bun, lettuce sprawling six inches from the bun’s edge, onion and tomato cut a half-inch thick.  It honestly looked like something you’d see at a ‘Frat House.’

Look I’m not complaining (too much) but this is simply not fair!  Rest assured I’ll be having a word with the Pollock owners about this, but I think you get the idea.  While I can’t blame JJ or the countless others treated better than me because I’d accept an extra slice of affection as well.

Now you’ll have to excuse me as I must run to the ‘Mission’ to see if ‘seconds’ are available.

zuki

Aftermath, consequences, wallop, impact, upshot, offspring, wake, fallout, all describe the ultimate reaction to an event or action taken.  “For every action there is a reaction.”  I’m not sure who said it but it’s become an axiom of sorts.  I open today’s posting with the above primarily to set the tone for what I’m about to unfold.  It saddens me that I should bear the mantle of educible iterations of an obvious disturbed person.  A smarter man than me once said, “No man was ever so much deceived by another as by himself.” Sadly I must report than one of our own has succumbed to this level of deception.

Before I begin in earnest I’d like to point out the many years of service our good friend has proffered on behalf of the ‘Diatribe.’ Their stature is legendary but hardly epic.  He/she has personally assisted in countless acts of futility never seeking compensation or even thanks.  This person is first to rush toward danger, first to throw water on a grease fire, and first to leave the building as it burns to the ground.  You can’t buy that kind of loyalty, nor should you, but just the same this person is in a class unto themselves!

I know what you’re thinking.  “Zuki, why would you heap such praise on this person only to turn around and denigrate them?”   I’m hip.  Please don’t think I enjoy exposing my good friends to ridicule, because I don’t.  But when they fuck up, as they often do, I’m bound by our by-laws to reveal it without prejudice.  For the two or three of you reading this palingenesis you can be certain justice will be administered by lethal injection.  Not literally JJ rather metaphorically.  This infusion of righteous indignation will hopefully bring our associate to an about face.  We can no longer tolerate continued skidding leaving the mess for someone else to “Borax” away.  While our troubled friend has been pampered and spoiled its imperative this shunning is taken seriously.

I got a call from Dr. Slimsy who heads Orthopedic Surgery at Swedish Hospital.  He explained that our good friend had spine surgery less than 24 hours ago.  At long last they have a spine!  Unfortunately they used their newly found posture to wander away.  I thanked the good doctor and had a gut feeling as to where our ‘rules committee’ member was hiding out.  

I got in the car and headed north.  15 minutes later I pulled in front of the bar.  Wrist band still in place, goose-stepping to the Elvis tune “Burning Love” our associate lit from patron to patron displaying the freshly stapled scar.  The manager saw me and immediately rushed toward me begging me to get them out as customers were leaving in droves.  I know for a fact our associate can be dangerous when confronted, not to mention defecating on the floor, so I called for reinforcements. 

Having driven out the last of the stunned patrons, the attendants from our local ‘Cotton Box’ finally arrived with a dart gun and straight jacket.

I followed the ambulance back to the ‘Box’ and glad to announce they’re resting comfortably under the fog of Thorazine.  Officially under ‘observation’ for the next ten days, I’ll update you when I know their disposition.

zuki