September 2008

The Age of Steam

Roberta links to a sweet story, whcih reminds me of one of mine own.

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, I was at a “tourist” destination that had live steam locomotives. It was wintry and cold, and the engineers were sitting at the station waiting for the next go-around, and I sweet talked and bribed them until they let me fire the old girl up for a spin around the little circle of track.

I was excited and nervous, the engine pulled three little cars and they were empty and the snow fell as I rounded the curves, feeling the heat and muscle of the old iron as it scuttled along the worn rails. The brass handles worn smooth by the rough hands of a hundred odd years of hard men. The cinders and smoke and steam in my face.

In my life I have done things few people have done. I have steered a plow behind a horse, dug a well, and driven a steam engine. Few people can say that. Fewer still care. But those machines were once the magic muscle that drove this country- without them we might have ended up another soviet, or a bunch of landlocked republics. The iron rail and steam knitted a net across the country that made us one. I’m happy to see the resurgence of rail shipping fueled by- well, by fuel.

What a sharp memory that is.

The passing of a gentleman.

My old friend and confidant Mlle Jenny is watching her old golden slowly die. He’s stopped eating and drinking, and Jenny suspects his time is near.

A lot of people believe dogs have no souls. This is the utterest bullshit I have ever heard. The lowest street dog has more soul than the average bureaucrat. I fully expect that Gus will be romping in the fields of Eden soon, falling asleep under shady trees and dreaming of chasing otherworldly rabbits.

For a human, I would ask you to pray that his soul is prepared to be viewed by The Lord. For a dog, all I can ask is that you pray he goes peacefully and in no pain.

Don’t make me come and make you do this, I will fuck you up.

Update: A picture of Gus, the Good Boy.
gus.JPG

HEADCOLD WONDERFUL GIFT FROM GOD

I just realized, in about seventy two hours, the mutation period of this cold I have, I will land in PARIS. having contaminated every single person on board the plane. I am about to give the French a head cold.

To all the decent citizens of France: I am truly sorry. I hope your suffering is short and your illness does not linger.

To all the cheese eating surrender monkeys, and Muslims, DIE WALLOWING IN YOUR OWN FILTH, YOU SLIMY BASTARDS!!!

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