and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

Fuckers towed my bike. Towed it right out from under me and then acted surprised that I wasn't so happy to pay to get it back.. that I wasn't so happy to have to get up early, wake a friend up early, drive out to who the hell knows where and fork over my cash to a bunch of fat guys sitting around in a dingy trailer/office. Fuckers.

So I went to work and I let the toil burn the hate out.. like leeching like bleeding only work was my leech and sweat was my blood and now I'm pretty much over it.

Thing with getting fucked is that it will drive you completely insane if you don't do anything about it. You need to be proactive. I chose, in this case, to get up as early as possible and get the whole thing over with as quickly as I could. I chose to put it behind me in the most succinct manner possible and now I can move on. I still hate those fuckers but time heals all wounds and my bike didn't have any scratches so here I am - see? No complaints.

So I trudge to sleep at 2am only to roll, groaning, from my sheets at the ripe time of 4:40am to sit upon my porch, wait, and ruminate. By 4:45am I am inside a car driving to the outskirts of the city - to the airport - I am dropping off two baggage laden folks - they just beginning their trip so awfully early in the morn and I, I am returning home - returning to my bed - returning to my sanity, however thin, seethrough, and sheet like it may be.

But I had a note on the car this morning. As I was running about the house looking for my wallet (I haven't lost my wallet in over 12 years.. it took a few swims in the lake, but it hasn't been properly lost) in a panic this early morning (early 4:45am early - in order to get some folks to the jetport..

no, seriously.. that's what they call it here - the jetport) I looked out the window to see a yellow piece of paper fluttering on my windshield.

"What now?" I thought.. as if this week hasn't already tried my patience. As if one more thing could go wrong.

I couldn't find my wallet and one more thing did go wrong. My neighbour hit my car. A nice white streak on the rear quarter panel to match her nice white car but I suppose I shouldn't complain too much cause she managed to streak the exact spot that was rusting. You all know what that means. It just sucks because now I actually have to feel bad about getting it fixed.. I have to feel bad about her insurance rates going up and I have to feel bad for "putting her out". It's not like I bought the car yesterday. It's not like it's 2 years old or 5 years old or even 8 years old.. It's over 10 years old now. And I'm going to have her insurance rates go up and heck, the way they work these days, maybe my insurance rates will go up just for the hell of it - just cause - why not? It is insurance afterall.. ain't workin if it ain't going up, right?

So this all after my wallet - lost, my bike - towed, my sanity - gone. Fine. Let me go to work, go to the grocery store first so I can confirm that my wallet is in fact not there. Confirm the likelyhood that it is now in the hands of a subversive element and all credit cards are - 12 hours later - completely maxed out. Confirm that there is an extremely high possibility that my wallet is now in the hands of terrorists - saudis, muslims, jews, croats, whatever - and I am now, in fact, indirectly funding the onslaught of jyhad terror being reigned down upon the unsuspecting - and, let's just say it out loud folks, clearly undeserving and unprovoking - people of this fine and upstanding nation. I am, in fact, a terrorist myself.

I am, in fact, on the do-not-call list - clearly an illegal document in and of itself. Clearly, I am a felon. Clearly. Clearly, the Oklahoman U.S. District Judge Lee R. West finds my actions - my desires to sit at home and eat my dinner and not be inundated with tens, hundreds, thousands of calls soliciting me to change my phone carrier, change my magazine subscription, change my life. Clearly.

Direct Marketing Association, one of the plaintiffs, said it was happy with the ruling, even though it "acknowledges the wishes of millions of U.S. consumers who have expressed their preferences not to receive telephone-marketing solicitations - as evidenced by the millions of phone numbers registered on the FTC list."

Which is to say, quite clearly and in fairly obvious double-speak: "We don't care about the U.S. consumer, don't care about their preferences about solicitations, and in fact will continue to not care in the least bit."

The DMA, a nonprofit trade organization representing 5,000 U.S. companies, said it will work with its attorneys, the FTC and the FCC during the next few days to evaluate what the ruling will mean for consumers and businesses.

Which is to say, quite clearly and in blindingly obvious terms: "We're going to do whatever we can to ignore the rights of the common citizen in this country for as long as we can. We don't care one lick about the individual - the very building blocks of this nation. We care only about the bottom dollar, the dollar almighty - the magnificent shinny silver dollar.. One Nation, Indivisible (except by 1s, 5s, 10s, and 20s), with lay-away, and no justice for the small"

The telemarketing industry estimates the do-not-call list could cut its business in half, costing it up to $50 billion in sales each year. Telemarketers would have to check the list every three months to see who doesn't want to be called. Those who call listed people could be fined up to $11,000 for each violation.

Which, basically sounds like a wonderful idea. $11,000. No problem. A large amount - for each instance - perhaps.. but..

Apparently $11,000 is really, in fact, a tiny insignificant tiny puny little tiny amount. $11,000, in fact, nothing. A drop in the bucket.. who says this? who is telling me this? Well, none other than the very business community that is baulk at such numbers - the very corporate structure that wants to charge me $150,000 for each instance of music copyright violation I perpetrate. In fact, the same corporate system that wants to sue my grandmother for downloading "I'm a Thug," by rapper Trick Daddy through kazaa when in fact she has a mac (which can not run kazaa). This is the same system that, when shown the errors of it's ways - when shown that it's methods for collecting information of those who have violated copyrights are seriously flawed and when shown that my grandmother, in fact, did not download thousands of rap songs - replies haughtily and contritely:

"Please note, however, that we will continue our review of the issues you raised and we reserve the right to refile the complaint against Mrs. Ward if and when circumstances warrant,"

Fuck YOU.

Fuckers.

And then, I got to work - the sun shining and the air warm and bright - and I had some coffee. I did some good work. I worked hard and when I turned around there was my wallet on the floor in front of me as if presenting itself to me for my efforts. The sun the sky the stars didn't fall down, I got one more telemarketing call today, and my car is a little more worse for wear. My wallet is lighter, but in my hands, and my folks are safely in Wisconsin.

Someone even told me it was National Ass Grabbing Day..

Fuckers.