Lately the internet is off the hook. Like it just started talking to me again out of the blue. Somehow on one of these 150 windows I have open, a video started playing itself.  What does it care if I’m in the public library or Hank is trying to sleep? Then, while I’m trying to shut it up desperately, a pop-up decides to take over the entire screen and hold it ransom.  There seems to be no way to stop it, short of throwing it against a wall with force. There is no little X. I just have to wait while this thing loads, and Hank wakes up grumpily or the librarian starts pounding her foot like a mad bull and snorts.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to get everything in the entire universe done on this pathetic torture device that is clearly going downhill fast. I can’t believe this thing actually has a camera pointing at me that could be free entertainment for the domestic spies.  Well, this stuff ain’t free boys. I mean this stuff on the blog is free, but this stuff not on the blog isn’t free. So stop watching videos on my windows because these pop-ups take hella time to load when you use all my RAM stealing my only way of earning a living. Bloody hell.

Here’s an anthem for the times. Britney Spears distills a fresh approach to concepts or work, status and capitalist acquisitiveness in her satirical masterpiece: Work B**ch

I don’t “normally” believe in the draft OR sending young people to war, but I think it’s obvious our society desperately needs to bring back the draft — for celebrities. I’m very concerned about this young woman, who is obviously ready to have her very own on-stage blitzkrieg if allowed. Her pointless aggression has reached a level that makes you wonder, what next? Why if that had been a machete instead of a foam finger in her hand, Robin Thicke would have been toast.

We haven’t seen such a big mess in female form since Lindsey Lohan, and she keeps her mess strictly off-stage. Anyway, Lindsey finally has learned to channel her rage into bad lip injections, but Miley?  Miley doesn’t seem about to turn to body reconstruction surgery any time soon, and certainly not soon enough to stop our next generation of females from turning into even more self-involved puppets of the dark forces taking over.

I think Miley would do well in Afghanistan or possibly Syria. A few tours of duty and we won’t have to endure any more acts like the one at the VMA. No wonder They hate us for our “Freedom.” It’s not for our talent, that’s for sure.

We’re not supposed to complain, those of us who have jobs. Even if they do everything to drum us out, try to drive us to the brink to make room for their friends. It’s a good job, on paper.

But a job, even a good job, can at any time turn into a great white whale. It’s all you want in the world until you actually get it, and it beats the rest of your life into a splintered submission. Try floating around in that boat for a while, and just wait for the sharks to smell the chum.

When I hear people and politicians asking for “jobs,” that’s about the most ineffectual thing I’ve ever heard.  We don’t need these things called “jobs,” what we need to ask for and to have are lives — good, quality, happy lives. I would like to have a life, and not this sorry substitute.   A job is a subset of a life, and yes we need jobs — jobs that serve lives, not the other way around.

My grandmother could celebrate Labor, but it’s been one long backlash for workers since the New Deal.  I don’t see anything to celebrate about the Labor Movement, the state of labor, or the state of people’s lives.  That’s why I put all my biscuits in the future of the Working Cat.

Meet Hank. His hair is massive, and he’s got style for days.

Did you know that big man hair is back? I mean really big. “What died on your head?” big. I saw on the Tony awards that big man hair is really big in New York, so it’s only a matter of time now before the rest of the country is inundated with beard/hair combos that could hide whole families of lost squirrels, etc. We at badapple salute big-haired guys like our own trailblazer Hank. Who cares if they call you the Unabomber, honey? I certainly don’t!

You know, not every man can get away with this much hair in his life, but those who do are the envy of us all.

Sorry, Blanche, there are no benign databases left, and I need to erase this post now from my so called serious site. Because you see, it’s not that funny anymore. Goodbye, Blanche. It may not be a streetcar named Desire, just a bus named after a dog. But at least it will get you out of town before the surfer robot killing squads show up.

But six months into the Challenge, I have to ask myself, have I really, as pledged, been “Crap Free in two zero one three”?

Of course I haven’t. Because as I already knew: “The Crap Keeps Coming. The Crap Never Ends.” Life is a nonstop crap tsunami, a veritable shopping mall of crap to take or not to take. Since there’s enough crap out there for 7 billion lifetimes or more, I realize if I’m going to survive, I better stop taking all this crap on.

On the other hand, I’m reminded of a little piece of advice mom might have given:
When life gives you stinky rotten moldy lemons — hey kid, why not make some lemonade!?

Meet your new co-worker, the Customer Assistance model QD13

If I had a drone, the number one thing I’d like to do with it is send it to work in my place. I bet no one would mind (or maybe even notice) I wasn’t there, since the drone would be all anyone would be talking about.

The drone could sit behind the desk at the library in my place and direct people to what they need.  I’m sure a drone could handle that.  It should be easy for a drone.  I could download the entire library catalog to my drone, so when someone wanted books on navel oranges or Shamanism or Jim Thompson, the drone could just whiz right over to that section.  A drone wouldn’t even have to stop to look up the Dewey number, like I would.

Yes, I’m seeing where drones could have quite a future at the public library and in customer service in general. This is just the type of revolutionary jump forward we wage slaves have been waiting for to free us up. But only if we don’t let the bosses get hold of the drones first.

The end of the employment era is upon us when you can send your drone to work for you!  Why wait for clones, when drones are already here and available for sale on the Internet? It’s time to get your own drone.  Demand drones for the masses.  Let’s start by making them tax deductible.

I don’t know about you, but I took a lot of crap in 2012.  2013 really should be easy sailing because I’ve simply had enough crap to last.

Unfortunately, I’m aware I”m having one of those new year’s time hallucinations where I’m convinced momentarily that I can create and control change in my life.  I know full well the crap isn’t over.  The crap just keeps coming.  The crap never ends.  In real life, a “tough patch” isn’t always followed by a blessed reprieve.  In this world, the crap storm is followed by the crap fire and the crap flood.

So let’s drink to the crap!  The crap that doesn’t kill us is the crap that makes us stronger.  I plan to kick the crap out of the crap this year.

I see now that the crap is already on its way over to me across the crowded ballroom that will soon be 2013, but I’m not taking any crap, Crap.  I mean it!

How about you?  Will you join me in the No Crap in 2013 Challenge?  Just say no to the crap!