Neanderpundit

that it is Steinbeck’s birthday.

I love Cannery Row. I began reading Travels with Charley loving it, and at the end, I hated Steinbeck. Hated him for making a journey end in blaming people he didn’t know for things they don’t do. I am prepared to hate him still but for the way he treated Charley. happy Birthday, John, you sanctimonious prick. I hope Charley is running around in circles making fun of you for using the massive talent you were given to tell stupid stories. If you want to send a message, try Western union.

In the 80’s when I was taking my apprenticeship at Inland, the winters were harsh. If you got to work early enough, you could ride the bus in- the buses were literally cattlecar-like affairs towed by a little semi tractor. Later, though, and you’d have to walk in, and it was a rugged couple miles.

In winter you made damned sure you could ride. The cattle cars were cold but they were enclosed and away from wind. And the wind coming off lake Michigan was brutal.

The worst, though, was the crappers. They were between the vestibule and the locker room, and damn, the wind blew in there and made your nuts retract some, I’ma tell you.

Today I was in a small mill working on a machine for a customer, and asked for the bathroom. Turns out not much has changed.

There was a skim of ice in the toilet. Ice thick enough that even the massive Ogcrap did not faze it. Only flushing finally broke it up and it all went down with a slight tinkling like lemarchand’s box.

Meeeemreeez.

IN other news, Partner’s friends and onetime roomates lost their dog Wally yesterday, poor old bugger. I got to meet Wally while they were moving, and she was already not long for the world, but she had a good heart. God Bless her, I hope she is chasing bunnies with Barkley right now.