I don’t give two shits.


NOTE: Tort law is difficult to “establish” claims in — IOW, it’s like, y’know, based on “caselaw” … and all!

SINCE WE GOT THAT SHIT OUT OF THE WAY, HOWEVER:  I gotta admit — this shit didn’t surprise me.

One year (or so) after I worked at that godforsaken place (more on that later — nothing to do with the organization, as such, which, I imagine, didn’t envision itself as being a “solace center” for pushing-30, failed-in-life, state-school educated males) I decided, for some weird fuckin’ reason, to duck my head into Ladd’s — this bar across the street which, again, for some reason, workers at the Fund elected to habituate in lieu of the entire surrounding city of Portland (including this place — a walk of mere 5-blocks over, and 3-up, from the “dive” they got to claim all to themselves) and heard this “choice” bit of dialogue:

“My buddy’s going home with her tonight … and, I’m going home with her roommate … “

WTF, right?

OR, RATHER:  WTFelse could it be?

“Swinger’s Club”!

Yes, kids: mess up yer Karma (“Who believes in that, though?”), your


integrity (structural integrity, that is … ), psyche, drives, energies, loyalties, higher energies, privacies, “privates” … fuck, you can always get it all back together later … at some point … right?

“Hat’s Off” to:

Danika Skaggs, the 21-year old who got tossed around, pissed on, made “Evicted” by a leechy boyfriend, and left to die a slow, painful, lifelong death as the sinking-in-drinking chubby ticket-taker at the Baghdad Theater — until I came and got her sorry ass, fulfilling the barest strand of what I could of a (mutual) Karmic obligation … from here on out, though, all bets are off … she’s “independent” of me, that’s for goddamned sure …

Haley McNabb, who, at age 23, was one (1) of two (2) canvassers I e’er saw (in the year-and-a-half I was there) to hit the “Top 5” list each and every week … whom I never got to meet, mind, until she was done being the plaything of state-school-educated Johnny Nixon, then suffering a “mid-mid-life crisis” at age 28 (read: his longstanding girlfriend was out of town), necessitating he keep her on crews with him (he was a “Field Manager” — ooh! so accomplished and intimidating!) the whole summer long — that is, until his girlfriend came home, the marriage proposals ended, Haley got (one would have to guess) unceremoniously dumped (“Thank you, Dan Savage!” was the herald’s cry, of these “goddamn I love these liberated chicks” cultural ignoramuses, all of whom failed to recognize the “SUPERCHUNK” and “SLEATER-KINNEY” t-shirt I offhandedly wore as part of my revolving stock — but, hey, I was 33 or 34 at the time: that’s a fuckin’ lost continent to these young’uns!); and, of course:

Tate Williams, no longer looking like a fat toad with greasy hair, and no longer (one would hope) a raging (if covert) anti-Semite — but, nonetheless, showing up with his past-life wife, Sara (again called Sara), again thinking his “newspapery” credits even qualify nowadays (you’d better be a bit ahead of the curve than that, bitch — and not needing to fuck 19-year-old’s off the clock, to boot!) … by the way, how is Megan, and her formerly-meth doin’ friend, Lisa Marie Sumner?  I never could figure out why she “esteemed” you — like, at all — but, such was the case with Ms. Skaggs, even after you wore the t-shirt from her work around, I still didn’t get it, silly me … though, it must’ve really hurt, having had me around the office, ’cause, aside from the Canvas Director, who went to Yale, none of you fuckers had come close to my preliminary academic achievements in life (didja soak yer pants when ya tried to take them there S.A.T. tests? people can get on with their lives, anyway, ya know! seek counseling!  there’s places you can go for help, with that!) … hence the need to “make up” for it, I guess?  I hear U Mass Boston’s a “good school” … no, wait: I heard someone tell me U Mass Boston’s a “good school” …. like: Tufts, Brandeis, Harvard, M.I.T., and, for that matter, B.C. and B.U., I guess … gosh, how gullible is Ms. Skaggs?

Well … I guess she’ll swallow anything, huh?


Matt Weber, who’s not “gay” but “bi” (or, conversely, not “closeted” but “half-closeted”) — hence, obviously (?) his need to show off his “math skills” by doing the night’s crew totals in his head on the way back to the office … I could have told him I got 710 on my math SAT’s, and then let it go, but he’d probably cry

Brian (“B. Nel”) Nelson, who, for reasons completely mysterious to me (I’m from New York), hightailed it out — from California — to get his Master’s in Philosophy from S.U.N.Y. Oswego (probably the least known-and/or-esteemed NY State Univ., ‘s far as I know … ) only to show up at the Fund office, age 28, to P.D.A. with 19-year-old, not-particularly-stable, female canvasser (she didn’t last two weeks, as I recall) on the front steps of the F.F.P.I.R. office (eww!) —  who, one presumes, was “wowed” by his intellect (and, also, all-but-had the recorded works of Liz Phair, PJ Harvey, Lois Maffeo, Sleater-Kinney, Helium, etc., etc., kept from her, like the rest of them … by ignorance and/or omission, who gives a shit?  These half-baked, non-grown boys’ dicks are getting kinda HARD!  They gotta go someplace … )

and, least but not “last” enough (I’d have to print it off the computer screen, in some as-yet unimagined spatial vector — just wait, you’ll see what I’m talking about):

Sam Wilson-Moses, who drinks constantly (i.e., “as a constant” in his daily life — or, at least, did, at the time I “knew” him!), shows up at work smiling, goes through his day a bit jumpy, a LOT like one of those “bobble-headed” toys, heads home, drinks four (4) to six (6) beers, say, and kills the pain, like one does the day’s tiredness with sleep itself, goes to sleep (I’d have to presume … ), wakes up, shows up at work, and, of course, begins the whole cycle all over again: a non-stop “What’s the big deal … about every last little thing?” mode that I had to fuckin’ figure out he was even (still) doing, as a carry-over from the abuse-fest which constituted the way he “got” through his most recent past (but: “failed“) life

MORAL:  Karma’s “META-Physics,” kids … it’s called that, because it’s more INDIFFERENT SHIT (y’know: like Planck’s constant, or E = mc² ) … sure, people can just CUT RIGHT IN and FUCK IT (ITSELF) UP . . . too!


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