Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Friday, October 14, 2005
Looking at the world (from the inside of his ass)
Once again, the cleanup has begun at Chez Broad for the impending arrival of the Snidge; this time, she's bringing along her baby brudder, and we're going to see this massive hunk o' musical genius at Park West Saturday night, to which I've never been. Save for Roger Clyne this summer, it's my first real concert in a long time, so I'm pumped. And thankfully, the crib still is in pretty good shape from when she was up here for the races in September. Could it be that I'm becoming less of a human pig?

(snicker)

In the meantime, I'm taking a break from picking up, and I check the competition's Web site to see what they've got going; it's something I do to a) see if we've been scooped and b) compare stories with the reporter I covered something with. So I scroll down to the columnist section, and I see this one columnist has a new one up about an incident that happened last Wednesday near East Chicago where this pigfucker named George Soltis made a couple homeade bombs and took his soon-to-be ex-wife Dora on the ride of her almost-death. By the grace of God, Dora was able to jump out of the moving vehicle, but not before pigfucker beat the will to live out of her with the ass-end of a .357. As well, pigfucker called Dora's son to tell him his plan to blow the two of them to kingdom come, and the boy was able to call police, who then found the two, arrested pigfucker and detonated the explosive devices.

[A side note: This all happened not more than five minutes from Chez Broad, and I DIDN'T HEAR A DAMN THING. I was home all night, too. And not drunk.]

Naturally, the event was front-page news with the requisite photos of a badly beaten Dora, so the columnist wrote about it and how yeah, it was great that Dora escaped from the pigfucker alive, but you know, she saw the signs that the guy was bad news. Why didn't she get out sooner!?? Or why did she go out for that one last dinner with him!?? And I thought to myself, "You know, [name redacted for not wanting to pimp out the competition, plus this guy's a jerk], methinks that you're spending too much time in the casinos observing people's behavior -- to which you devoted a whole column -- or you've forgotten the time you spent over in the Balkans covering the war, or you're just not getting a whole lot of real-life assignments, because you really don't have a clue, do you?"
Posted by Broad4:19 AM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



Save the Net Now



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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