A designer's misstep

US Navy to Alter "Swastika" Building Due to Web Maps

Thu Sep 27, 2007 5:13PM EDT

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Your tax dollars at work: The US Navy will be spending about $600,000 to redesign or camouflage a 1960s barracks building in San Diego because of complaints that it looks like a swastika when viewed from the air. In the past this might have been a problem only for the occasional air traveler who happened over Coronado island, but with the advent of aerial mapping and visualization tools like Google Earth, everyone can see anything from the sky. In fact, many people have made a game out of finding oddities in satellite photos.

Now it's one thing to see landmarks like this and snicker over a designer's missteps 40 years ago (the Navy says it noticed the shape but that it didn't think anyone would see it from above), but it's another thing altogether to complain to the Navy about the shape of a building when viewed from space. But people really seem to have the time on their hands: The Navy says it's been inundated with complaints; enough, I suppose, to justify spending that much money on new structures and extra bushes. It's the first known case of its kind.

So what will the building look like when the job is done, I wonder? A set of four connected squares? A pinwheel formed from triangles? Post your ideas for what the Navy ought to do out of the wayward swastika here and we'll see if we can't pass them along to the powers that be
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My two cents:

The article mentions complaints that the building LOOKS LIKE a swastika when viewed from the air. Looks like? It fucking IS a swastika! You never read "some neighbors complained that the enflamed t-shaped wooden structure in the Smith's front yard resembled a burning cross", do you? Is it possible that the building's shape was overlooked, that from design on down no one noticed the swastika? Nope, because the article states that the Navy knew about it, but didn't think anyone would see it. It would be akin to a church structure that reads 666 from above (obviously, this would be a hard task to accomplish, but you see what I'm getting at), and the clergy saying "well, no one's going to see it, except from above. We can live with it." And the fact that the building was built forty years ago, not so long after the Holocaust, makes it even more revolting that they chose that design.

Even if the swastika wasn't intentional, why go ahead with the design plans? Aren't the Nazi's and what they represented anathema to the American way? So even if it was an accident that the building took the form of maybe the most reprehensible symbol in the free world, it probably would have been in their best interest to try something else less evil, like, I don't know, maybe a square or a rectangle. You'll never be able to convince me that the swastika was an oversight, caught only until after the building was completed.

They knew what they were doing. Ever hear of Operation Paperclip? Look it up--pretty interesting stuff. Basically, we recruited Nazi scientists after the war to work for us. Instead of being hanged like they should have been, some of these monsters were rewarded for their sins with jobs! I'm not claiming there's a grand Amerinazi scheme in our country, even though I have my suspicions, but I know what a swastika looks like and I know our military does as well.

The article doesn't question the Navy's use of the swastika, but instead takes the people who complained about it to task. This sums up the state of our media. Calling the shape of the building " a designer's misstep" and "something to snicker over" is an enormous insult to every man, woman, and child who's lives were taken from them under the Nazi regime. Disagree with Israel's stance towards Palestine and you're an antisemite. But if you complain about a military structure built in the shape of a swastika, you've got too much time on your hands. And to bitch that it's going to cost $600,000 in tax dollars to alter the shape of the building is ridiculous. I'd much rather see my tax dollars go towards the removal of something repulsive, instead of it joining the billions of dollars that are being eaten up by the war machine. I'd rather the Navy pick up the tab, though, for that misstep in design, but that's not going to happen.

This is the planet of sound.

Moments of bliss, moments of yuck.


Bliss:

--watching Yes perform "The Gates of Delirium" with a full orchestra. Sublime, I tells ya.

-- eating the tasty lamb tips I bought the other day. Put 'em in a field greens salad with black beans, grapes, feta cheese, tomatoes, onions, and a less than liberal amount of olive oil. I hardly eat lamb, but I'm not sure why. D-lish.

--Hearing from my drivers that Ray, our new warehouse guy is a loon when he's out on deliveries with the guys. Usually a quiet and respectful man, Ray has been guilty of: 1. meowing at every single woman/girl/granny that walked by the truck when the guys were stuck in traffic the other day. When they told him to hold back because all these women had to do was call the number on the truck to lodge a complaint, he responded with a "meow". 2. telling another driver, while they were on the road, to call Karen and tell her he was done working for the day. Except he didn't put it like that. This is what he said: "Call that bitch and tell her I need to go home and clean some clothes and then I want to eat my wife's pussy". He then went on to express how much he loved the taste of an unclean woman. And you know he didn't put it like that, but I'll spare you the vulgarity. 3. Hell, I could go on. This guy's nuts! And hearing the guys, who have heard and seen it all, share these stories with absolute awe in their voices, has been transcendent.

--reading Ivan Sanderson's book. The man put cryptozoology on the map, and after years of not finding any of his works, I've finally found his book on Bigfoot. And what a great read it's been.


Yuck:

--finding out my man Ray at work is a loon. It means that at some point, he's going to crack. And guess who'll have to clean up the mess? Hope he keeps it together because he's a hell of a worker.

--How could anyone have children at this point with a clean conscience? It's pretty much been established that our planet is going down the shitter. Fairly soon, the world will be a very unpleasant and harsh place to live in. And that is not seeing the glass half empty, that's being completely realistic. I really hope things turn out ok, that a way will be found to better our environment, but it's not looking so good. So why bring children into this world? I suppose they do make good accessories. Just ask Brangelina.

-- Dane cook.

Koala's and other tales

It's a little slow at work, right now. Let's see how far I get with this. I've been noticing I've been curt with some of our customers and, even though some of the time it's probably appropriate, I'd like to do away with that aspect of my customer service. I know I've been like that mostly because I'm probably in the wrong profession and I'm not very good at hiding that fact. However, as far as jobs go, I don't have too much to complain about. So, until I figure out where I'm headed, I will do my best to make the best out of this situation. I've had worse jobs; it shouldn't be too much to bear for a while longer. And though I usually tend to bitch about work on this site, I do feel like I'm growing from the challenge it presents.

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I've been known to have instances of synchronicity and I had a hell of a one this morning. Because it involved a certain someone who heretofore has not been named, I won't go into the details of the experience. To those of you who are regular readers of mine, I apologize once again for doing this. By this, I mean bringing up a person who's identity I've been disinclined to reveal for various reasons. If I were you, and maybe in the grand design I am, but we don't have time to get into that---if I were you, I'd want me to put up or shut up concerning this woman. I'd be yelling at the screen :"If you're not going to go into anything beyond shadowy surface details, then why bring her up at all, you idiot? I mean, what a childish thing to do. Oooh, I've got a secret, but I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to keep you in suspense. This isn't an episode of Lost, where you stick around to witness the unveiling of mysteries. No, this is something far more uninteresting and annoying and not worth the readers time."

So, that's what I'd say. But, I'd also be drunk when saying that, and therefore combative. So, you can't really take that as gospel. Anyway, in my defense, I bring her up without really bringing her up because I'm smitten, despite myself. And because that's so, she warrants at least a mention here and there, don't you think? Whether anything comes out of it, she is someone I hold in high regard and, as frustrating as it is, I'll continue, here and there, to write about her. Who knows, maybe there will be a time when the veil is lifted and it'll be safe for me to reveal her identity.

Anyway.....

So I had a moment of synchronicity involving her and it was incredible. It was akin to lying in bed, thinking about a friend you hadn't seen in a month. And as you're thinking about this person, you imagine hearing a knock on your bedroom door and when you say "come in", it's that very person. And after that thought has fluttered away and you've moved on to other thoughts about this person, lo' and behold, you hear a knock on the door, and holy christ, it's that person.

That's how things went down for me this morning. Pretty cool. I've stopped short of trying to apply meaning to the event, but the temptation is there to declare that what happened is a sign that we are meant to be together. But, then again, why can't it mean that? I mean, I'm not going to dwell on the issue and I understand that there are many possible meanings I could attach to the event, that of course I'd choose this one because it's the most appealing, but sometimes in life amazing things happen, things that defy explanation and remind us that, despite our limited outlook, we are still naive and young in the fabric of the Grand. Ah, I'm just a foolish old romantic. Let me savor the taste of this a while longer.
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With that, I will wrap this up. After work, I plan on taking a run and baking some marinated lamb tips for dinner. Yes, my friends, I will be sinking my choppers into one of the cutest animals on the planet. Tomorrow, I'll continue the trend when I broil up some Koala bear.

Doesn't know what he wanted and he doesn't know what he had

Now that Bob TV is out of the house, I've reacquainted myself with the living room, an area I had hardly visited over the last several months. The room had lost almost all appeal after Spira moved out and when she changed her mind out of spite and took with her the nice lamp that gave off a comfortable vibe, I couldn't bear sitting under the ceiling fan light with its invasive glare. More importantly, though, the chief reason I stayed away from that room was because Bob TV was always lurking about and there was the possibility that, when I'd be deep into a book or a movie, he'd come over and treat me to one of his interminable monologues, thus ruining my good time. Well, Bob TV's gone and we've got a new lamp and a nice area rug in the living room, so once again I have a room to hang out in.

And I'm actually watching a little TV now. Tonight, while eating dinner I watched Sean Penn and Eddie Vedder on the Charlie Rose show. They were there to promote Penn's new film Into the Wild. I've been really interested in seeing the movie, so stumbling onto this interview was a treat.

I've been trying to get my head around this sense of isolation I've been afflicted with for oh, say the last few years. Part of it is self imposed, part of it is just the flow of life. The self imposed part was born out of a general disappointment with my life. I don't mean to sound resentful or bitter, but after years of going out and coming home with nothing exciting happening in between, you kind of start taking the inward path. Oh, hell, maybe I've always been on that path and the reason for the mediocrity is because of my inability to interact in a meaningful way with others.

Shit, that's not really true at all!

I'm straying dangerously from whatever point I was in the process of making. Pay attention future writers: keep your point at arm's length and slap it if it wanders. I guess what I was trying to say is that, after a healthy and frequent amount of socializing over the years---with an excellent cast of friends, I might add---I feel, unlike most everyone I else I know, like I didn't take, whether it was out of sheer unluckiness or a secret wish, anything tangible from the experience. And that's not to sound ungrateful, even though it does; I've said it before and it bears repeating: I consider myself extremely fortunate to have had such high quality friends.

Okay, I'm not getting too far with this. Time to jump ship and move on to something else. If any of you feel like you "got" what I was getting at, then it wasn't in vain. To the rest, who are wondering just what the fuck I'm trying to say, welcome to my world.
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Recently, Rich informed me that he was getting a car. He'd been getting around on the T but felt it was time to get his own ride. He had gone so long without a car that he let his license expire, which meant he had to devote a painful day of going to the registry and getting it back.

A few days later, he went to the Cape to see his parents and get his car. His mother had just got a new one and was giving her old one to Rich. So, early one Saturday morning, Rich hopped on a bus and headed to Falmouth. It would be his last trip on a bus for a long time.

Or so he thought.

The following day I came home and saw him sitting in the living room. "Where's your new whip?", I asked using the latest and hippest lingo.

"I didn't get it", he said.

"What happened?", I asked seductively.

"My mother wasn't giving me the car to keep; turns out, she was just going to lend it to me for the week."

"How did that miscommunication happen? I asked with absolute authority.

"Dude, I don't know. I'm still getting over it. Oh, well, what am I going to do about it?"

"Man, that sucks", I said with a hint of impending violence.


Poor Rich. He had a good attitude about it, but that must have been a bit of a shock to go all the way down to the Cape to pick up your new car only to discover that it wasn't meant to be yours.

With that, I'm off to watch Yes Symphonic Live.

How to Create an Angry American

Yeah, but he's protecting us from the terrorists

Don't surround yourself with yourself, move on back to squares

We tried a new guy out at work yesterday and, despite his impressive pedigree, he was a bust. We interviewed Ross last week. He had been running a rental store, much like ours but smaller, and grew dissatisfied with the environment after a few years. It seems the owner of the place didn't supply Ross with any help and hardly ever came in the store himself. So, after seven day shifts and back-breaking work, Ross flew the coop and decided to work for us. He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders: he was going to college, lived with his sick grandmother in order to take care of her, had good manners, etc.

The expectations were high.

We had two large and involved jobs going out yesterday and I only had three guys at my disposal to help me put them together. One of the orders had about fifty items on it, most of which had to be ordered in from somewhere else or needed to be eked out of section of the warehouse I'd never even walked through before. In other words, a scavenger hunt.

Because time was of the essence, we had to be precise in our work while being quick about it. I had Ross by my side the whole time helping me pack stuff and we weren't twenty minutes into it when he started with the complaining. Strange, because I wasn't asking him to do much. Here's an example of what I'm referring to:

"Hey Ross can you tie up the bags we have on those chafing pans?"

"The bags aren't long enough to tie."

"Alright then, you'll have to put new bags on."

"What's the point, man? They're already mostly covered."

"Well, first of all it's about the presentation and more importantly, any item that food will be
served in needs to be secured."

So I left him with the task and went on to one of my own. As I walked away, I heard Ross muttering quite loudly to himself about how "ridiculous this all was" and other choice complaints. I didn't have the time to dress him down so I left him to it, hoping that his behavior wasn't a sign of things to come. It was.

Ross complained about almost everything throughout the rest of the day. He questioned every action I took and repeatedly informed me that Karen and I planned the whole day wrong. Aside from a couple of comments, I held my tongue. He was pissing me off, though, and I looked forward to a time when every second of it wasn't accounted for so I could let this punk have it.

I had Ross deliver one of the orders we put together. As I handed him the paperwork, he exclaimed "You're sending me by myself on this? What the fuck!" Though putting together the order was a complicated affair, delivering it should not have been. Most of the items on it were easy to carry; an eight year old with Lupus would make quick work of it.

"You think this is a two man job?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, man. What the fuck? (he said that often) Karen better not expect to do this type of shit in the future 'cuz it's not going to happen. Fuck that!"

Well put, young Ross. Well put.

Astounded at what a piece of shit this kid was turning out to be, I sent him out on the road without commenting back. If I had, he probably would have walked out and I needed him to make this delivery.

I talked to Karen on the phone about him after he left. She was as flabbergasted as I was about his behavior. For a guy who supposedly operated a rental store by himself, he should have found what I threw his way to be easy. Instead, he acted like an infant with soiled diapers. We'll probably let him go--Karen seems to want to --but it's too bad, because our hopes were so high with him.

Free speech in action

Many people will watch this and say "Well, of course he got tasered; he was resisting arrest." And why was he being arrested, or at the very least, removed bodily from the auditorium? Oh, yeah, because he was asking John Kerry some questions. What a treasonous punk! He must really, really, really hate his country to pull that kind of stunt. As you all know, asking questions is right up there with rape and murder---maybe worse. Apparently the fool thought he'd get away with his treasonous actions, but law enforcement, our proud boys in blue who love our country and what it stands for more than anything else in the world, had other plans for this Al Queida sympathizer. Guess it was the Skull & Bones question t'was the treasonous straw that broke the camel's back. Strange, because the Skull and Bones is just a silly club out of Yale that nut-job conspiracy theorists love to make into something sinister and all powerful. Anyway, the little shit deserved what he got, and much, much more, because, you know, he was really annoying asking questions that no one wanted to hear. Hopefully, they'll find a nice cell for him at Guantanimo.

Oh, and to those of you wondering why this treasonous coward needed to be tasered since he was already on the ground prostrate, overpowered by five, count 'em, five cops, well, isn't it obvious? He was a jerk. And besides, it's a rush tasering defenseless people with 50,ooo volts of electricity. Wish I was there to have joined in the fun.

Viva New World Order !

God's own son is going home

Robert Jordan, author of the ambitious and unfinished Wheel of Time cycle, passed away yesterday at the age of 58. In March 2006, Jordan announced that he had been diagnosed with cardiac amyloidosis, a rare blood disorder that attacks the organs and caused the walls of Jordan�s heart to thicken. After battling the disease for nearly two years, Jordan died from complications from primary amyloidosis with cardiomyopathy.

Jordan was one book away from completing the Wheel of Time. I picked up Eye of the World, the first book in the series, my first year out of high school. I've been reading ever since, though the pace had slowed to a crawl in the last few installments, and Jordan's death puts into question whether and in what manner the last book will be completed. According to a family member who helped Jordan keep an active blog during his illness, Jordan made preparations for the book to be finished should he pass away before its completion. The book, entitled A Memory of Light, will be a bitter sweet read. I've spent over a decade invested in the story and now that Jordan won't be around to see it wrapped up, will make the read all the more emotional.
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Tonight I'm going to watch Werkmeister Harmonies, a film by the Hungarian filmmaker, Bela Tarr. I've been itching to see this purported bleak masterpiece for a while now. I'm very much looking forward to viewing it. His last film was over seven hours long, so I know this guy isn't catering to the Hollywood machine.

I went back to Shaws and bought another rug for our dining room. Overall, we got three rugs for under twenty smackers. Not bad. The house is looking better and these days I'm more inclined to hang out downstairs more often. The reign of Bob TV is behind us and we greet a new era.

Love comes in spurts

I suppose, since I spent all of my time last week recounting the Bob TV fiasco, I should recap other events that transpired. Not that they merit retelling, but what else am I going to write about? Spirituality in the age of technology? Boriiiinnnggg. Nah, I'll stick with writing about myself, which, as you've come to discover, is far more rewarding than pretty much anything else you're going to read. Now that I've shown some modesty, let's do a little recapping.

I played a show in Boston early last Sunday evening with Sean. The place was called Kennedy's Midtown, a somewhat ritzy Irish restaurant and lounge. I was able to convince my roommate Rich to come with me and good thing, because he was the only one who showed up, at least as far as my friends went. Sean didn't fare much better on his end, but the four people who came to support him seemed like a hundred in that desolate environment.

Before Sean and I performed, we had to sit through some preppy guy's R&B band. He spent half his set introducing his band. "Give it up for Terry Maddux on the sax! (applause from his four friends in the audience) Let's here it for my Uncle Perry on the guitar! Uncle Perry, everyone! (applause) And Pat Dougherty on the drums. Give it up for Pat Dougherty!! C'mon, give it up for Pat!" Now, I'm all about giving credit to one's bandmates, but to do so over and over and over again is a bit much, especially when you've only got a handful of people in attendance, and one of them wants you to hurry up and finish your set before he gets sick all over himself.

After preppy guy's set, Sean got up and performed a great one. I was glad he played after the other guy, because my inspiration boner had wilted like fern in September. Even with the benefit of Sean's set, I wasn't having the best time in the world during mine.

I played well, I think, but as there were only one or two people paying attention, I hurried through the set and looked forward to going home. After completing one song, there was dead silence for a few seconds until the sound guy, who was stationed a few feet in front of me, gave me a courtesy clap. I found that to be pretty funny.

I wasn't pissed--no diva, me--at the poor turnout, I actually didn't care very much. If I had known that no one was going to show up and that I wasn't going to be payed for the gig, then I would have preferred to stay home. However, I committed to playing the show and, as Sean pointed out, at least we got to play through a good sound system. There was that.

I didn't expect many people to show up to the gig. I had just played in August and almost all of my friends had showed up for that. Expecting them, especially the ones traveling from New Hampshire, to drive to Boston a month later wouldn't have been fair. Consequently, I focused my attention on inviting friends who missed the last show and those who lived near the city.

Everyone I invited, with the exception of a couple of people who got back to me and said they couldn't attend, had vanished off the face of the earth as far as I was concerned. Emails and phone calls were not returned. Can't say that I was upset: this type of thing happens and I can see why people wouldn't want to drag themselves out to some bar in the financial district of Boston, especially on a cloudy Sunday night. The only thing that irked me was the lack of response. An aknowledgement of my existense was all I was looking for. And perhaps something in the way of a "Sorry, dude, there's an "I love New York" marathon tonight. I'm not going anywhere" type of excuse. I've missed my fair share of friends' shows, so I'm not holding any grudges.

After quitting multiple times, after tantrum after tantrum, Gio finally turned in his keys for good yesterday. I say for good, but who knows with that guy. If he attempts to come back again and if Karen lets him, then I'll know for a fact that they're both stark raving mad. Well, I couldn't be more happy that Gio and his disruptive behavior have left the building for good. We have a new guy who looks to be a good candidate starting on Monday. It would make my job so much easier if he was a good fit.

I've been having good dreams lately. In some of them, I even get the girl for a change. The dreams haven't quite represented my waking reality and I'm hoping they're harbingers of things to come. In last night's dream the mystery woman I'm prone to write about and I had a nice, intimate time together. It wasn't a fuck fest, if that's what you're thinking, but something more intimate and special. Wow, with that sentence I think I just salted the earth of whatever masculinity I had in my possession . I'll have to watch a lot of football on Sunday to see if I can get any of it back.

Rich, Kreg, and I went out today and got some stuff for the house. We bought a new rug for the living room and a runner for in front of the washer and dryer. And we also bought a new toilet seat. I only mention it because it was the first time in my life that I've gone shopping for a toilet seat. Our old one was a cheap plastic job that wasn't secured very well to the toilet. When Rich moved in a few months ago, his first request was for us to get a new toilet seat. Well, it took a while, but we've got one. It's well constructed and sleek and makes a bigger difference in the bathroom experience than I thought it would. So, as you can tell, I'm very, very excited by this new acquisition. I encourage all of you to come over and give it a whirl. I'll make sandwiches.

Last night after my run, Kreg and I walked to Yoshi's for some Japanese food. I was ravenous and ordered the vegetable and fish tempura. It was ok, but I've never been a huge fan of Tempura.

Afterward, Luke Warm stopped by and we watched "The Impossible Kid", starring Weng Weng. As riveting as it was, I kept falling asleep during it. There was a scene on a yacht where Weng Weng got caught spying on the bad guys. They put him in a bird cage hanging from the ceiling and after they were finished making fun of him they lowered the cage into shark-infested waters where he would surely meet a bloody end. Right when the cage hit the water, I fell asleep. For that to happen at a heart-pounding moment like that was a clear indication of how tired I was. Anyway, I found out later that a hot chick saved Weng Weng by dropping a rope with a hook attached to it into the water and pulling him up to safety.

Now that you know Weng Weng's alright, I can finish this and go lay in bed and day dream about my new toilet seat.



.

I've been caught in a mind riot (the last installment of the seemingly endless saga of Bob Tv and his shitty behavior during his move)

So did Bob TV remove his things from my porch that day? If he did, I wouldn't be writing another installment in this saga. No, Bob"If lying is bad, I don't want to be good" TV left his stuff on our porch all day Monday.

I was furious; not so much because there were tons of boxes on my porch--however annoying, that in itself wasn't a big deal-- but because that con-artist shit bag was playing us for fools. Over the course of three days, he had willfully disregarded our requests and demands more than a handful of times. He did this because he knew he could get away with it.

And he was right.

Even though I had gotten in his face--shouted and pointed and frothed--it turned out my bark was worse than its bite. As for Rich and Kreg: well, Rich had taken himself out of the ring days prior, opting to let things resolve on their own, and Kreg, though he was growing more irritated by the day, remained, for the most part, silent on the issue. Consequently, I was the only dog nipping at Bob's leg. Rich and Kreg were still on speaking terms with Bob TV, cordial even, and I think that was a key reason why Bob felt no urgency to leave. I don't mean this to sound critical of Kreg and Rich--they reacted to the situation in their own way--but more to illustrate how we were complicit in varying degrees in Bob overstaying his welcome.

Another way Bob TV was able to buy some time was another result of his procrastiation. He had neglected to take his name off the bills and since it was Labor Day weekend, he informed us, or Kreg, rather---the wretch and I were no longer speaking--that he needed to do it on Tuesday, and failing that, he would have everything shut off. The implication was that if we, or more accurately, I continued to harrass him about moving, he would be forced to have everything shut off. If it was anyone else but Bob, I would have thought otherwise, but it was Bob "The Lowest Parasitic Mother Fucker on God's Green Earth" and I wasn't about to believe a damn thing that came out of his selfish, lying, mouth.

Kreg had talked with Bob TV a little later that day and was told that when he got back from shipping out some packages, he would remove his stuff from our porch. Kreg was convinced that this time Bob would be true to his word.

"I hope you're right, Kreg, but I'll believe it when I see it."

"Yeah, I know, but something about his attitude this time makes me think he's really intending to do what he says."

Later on that night, Bob Tv was nowhere to be seen and his shit was still on our porch. I stepped outside and sat on the stairs, looking at the huge mound of crap. I thought about how Marie, our frail landlord, shook her head looking at all of Bob's stuff, like I was doing now. I had told her all of what was occurring and assured her that none of us were pleased with his behavior. She was worried about people coming up to the house and stealing the stuff. It was apparent that she didn't want to get involved but also wasn't happy to see this mess on her porch. And when Bob Tv came out of the house as we were talking, the sight of him pissed me off. I told him again to get his stuff off our porch by the end of the day.

Well, here it was, close to eleven at night, and nothing was done. If Bob had shown some sign that he was truly repentant, that he was really doing everything in his power to expedite his move, then I would have been much more tolerant---we all would have. But when I thought back to earlier in the night, when Rich and I were taking out the trash---most of it his-- and seeing him holding court on the third level porch next door, I wanted him out of my life more than ever. There were many ways in which he could have made matters better, but because he was born lacking the thoughtful gene, nothing towards that end was put into effect.

I went back inside feeling dejected. Because none of us were on a lease (we have a tenant at will agreement), we couldn't do much legally to extract that animal from our dwelling. I wondered if indeed I was making a huge, big deal out this, as Bob suggested more than once. I got the feeling that perhaps my roommates would have agreed with him more or less. I decided at the least, I would forget about matters, if only for the rest of the night.

When Bob TV had once again reneged on his promise, I wasn't surprised. Bob Tv was nowhere to be seen the next day. It was now the middle of the week and he was still haunting the place. Kreg, Rich, and I stood in the kitchen talking about it and at one point Kreg said "If Bob's not out of here by Friday, then I'm going to....." (sorry, but I forget what he said he was going to do. I think he was going to throw his stuff on the curb, or something.)

"Do you hear what you're saying?", I asked in disbelief. "When Friday hits, it'll be almost a full week since he was supposed to move out. You're willing, after all the shit he's pulled, to give him that much of a grace period?"

"I hope he's gone before that time, believe me I do. I guess we're just not as bothered by this stuff as much as you are."

"Frankly, I think you should be. You more than anyone. You were the most affected by his bullshit. I don't mean to tell you guys how to think, but I know that I feel small right now, like a puny runt. I've got my tail between my legs and Bob is doing precisely what he wants to. I don't care how you rationalize it, Bob is taking advantage of us and we're allowing him to. He's been told time after time to get his shit out of our house, but he still hasn't. "

"I see what you're saying", Kreg said. "I just don't know what to do."

"Look, I'm not mad at either of you. I'm sorry we have to go through this. I just know that the three of us are not the most confrontational people and consequently, we're ripe for being taken advantage of. "

The conversation ended soon after. Kreg was visibly frustrated about the whole situation and so was Rich. We all retired for the night not long after and the next morning was like Christmas.

Bob TV had removed his junk from our house!!

Finally.
--

I haven't seen Bob TV since that time, so I imagine he's left the state. For good, I hope. I would have had things end differently if I was scripting events. For all the trouble he caused, Bob TV, selfish, egocentric prick that he is, is not a villain out of some serial. He's a flawed person, as am I, as so many of us are. I know that he was emotionally unhinged throughout his move, which contributed to his ass-dragging. I was sympathetic then as I am now, in retrospect, but only to a point. There are aspects of Bob TV that are endearing, but he's also a dramatist who has the propensity of putting the con on people. Of that I'm sure.

I guess what I'm saying is I wish him well as long as he's far away from me. Who knows, maybe we'll reconcile someday years from now over a beer or two. Probably not, but you never know. Well, it only took me thirty two installments to tell this tale, and before I wrap it up, I should probably explain why I was so candid.

It may not seem so, but there's a lot I leave out in my posts. I try to respect my friends and family's privacy while at the same time including them in accounts of my life. There's a lot I could write about that would surely be more salacious and riveting than the fluff I publish, but I'm not a gossip columnist (though judging from my last several posts, you could easily make the case that I am). It's all about balance and knowing when not to share too little and when not to share too much. With Bob TV, I let it all out because:

--He's a fucking prick who trampled over me with reckless, gleeful abandon throughout the course of his move.

--I'll probably never see him again and neither will the few of you that have met him before. And I'm about 100% confident that he has no idea about this blog. So, this tale isn't exactly going national.

--I just flat out needed to vent. Fuck, I've got to get something out of writing this tripe.

The end is near

I returned from the Cape mid-afternoon on Sunday refreshed and looking forward to a Bob TV-free household. Once again, though, Bob TV was an ever-present entity. I asked Rich if Bob had stayed the night. No, he told me, he stayed next door. Well, at least he was partially out of the house.

Bob came into the kitchen and I asked him how the packing was going. He told me he had just about everything packed and most of it was outside on the front porch. He said it would only be temporary and if I wanted, he could bring it all over to the house where he was staying at. I told him that would be the best thing and he complied. From then on, things appeared to be going smoothly. Bob TV gave me an acoustic guitar and a tape deck, which I thanked him for. He said he needed to get rid of as much junk as possible because he was only taking with him what could fit in his car. Which is why he gave Rich and Kreg a bunch of stuff, too. Also, though, I think he was giving us stuff because of what he put us through the previous days. For that gesture, he got a slight tip of the hat but not much more. I didn't want his gifts, I just wanted him out of my house.

I woke up Monday morning and went downstairs to make breakfast. I thought about Kreg and Rich missing most of the no-hitter the Sox pulled off because Bob TV had the living room cramped with his stuff. The guys didn't place the full blame on Bob TV, but I'm sure if the room was devoid of his belongings, the outcome would have been different. Whatever. All water under the bridge. It was Monday and Bob TV's presence in our house would soon be a memory.

I peeked out the window that faces our front porch. There I saw Bob TV sitting in a chair drawing in a sketch book and smoking a bowl. And all of his stuff was still on the porch! There were several things wrong with this scene and my ire, as it had on too many occasions the days prior, began to boil. I went outside to confront Bob "Didn't I tell you I was a selfish prick?" TV.

"Bob, I thought you were going to get rid of all this stuff yesterday. What's going on?"

Bob casually looked up from his sketch pad. "Oh, you know, I must have blocked it out of my mind when you asked me to move the stuff because the thought of doing it was too much to bear."

Now, Bob TV had tossed off similar sentiments earlier in the weekend, so I wasn't terribly taken aback by this one. "Ok, Bob, you've got to get this stuff out of here. You've been dicking us around too much. Our porch is not a storage facility."

"Man, I've had to listen to you recite the same garbage all weekend and it's gotten pretty old. I just don't see what the huge, big deal is. I really don't. I've told you before, nagging me incessantly isn't going to change what has come before. I'm doing all I can to get out of your hair, but you're making it extremely difficult for me."

"Oh, you're something else! I'm making it difficult for you? Don't you hear how ridiculous that sounds? And if you're tired of me sounding like a broken record, then I suggest not blocking out of your memory things that are "too much to bear". Until you get that malfunction in your brain straightened out, I'm going to continue to be on your case. And how does lounging on my porch smoking a bowl and doodling in your sketch pad qualify as doing all you can to get out of my hair?"

Bob stood up and became animated. "Ok, I get what you're saying, Kevin. It can be summed up like this: you don't want me here. At all. Ever again. I get that, but I still don't see why this is a huge, big deal. Look, my plan today was to have my friend take me to look for a trailer to put my stuff in."

"Okay, here's the plan, Bob. Go see about the trailer and if you fail to acquire one, then make sure you move your stuff next door, as you promised you'd do last night. Is that fair enough?"

"Okay, so you're giving me an ultimatum. I have to get my shit out of here. You know, it's times like these when you discover who your friends really are. And now I know you're not my friend. I don't want to look at you or talk to you ever again, unless the police are involved."

"The police? You want to get the police involved? You know, that sounds like a good idea, Bob. Maybe they'll help facilitate matters. Maybe get your selfish ass out of our hair."

"Well, I didn't mean that literally, I just meant I don't want to talk to you."

"I think that overall we've been pretty patient with you up to this point, Bob. Even now, on Monday, two days after you should have been cleared out of here, I'm giving you the opportunity to spend the day looking for a trailer. And you retort with that bullshit? You're lucky we haven't thrown all your junk onto the curb already. In fact, I'm really starting to feel like a chump for not having done so."

"Whatever, man, just shut up."

"Until every last piece of you is out of my house, I will not shut up, you fucking prick. Go ahead and keep taking your time. See what happens."

With that, I went back in the house, furious that we allowed this guy to continue to take advantage of us.
--

Ok, the next post will end this brutal saga and I say thank goodness. At the outset, I didn't think it would take me several posts to tell this tale, but I guess it's fitting considering that I didn't think it would take Bob close to a week to leave us in peace.

Well life is short so we don't even try to bother waving as we pass you by

I came home from work later that day and, sure enough, Bob " You're all my bitches" TV was still wandering about the house, his belongings spread about in disarray. I washed my hands in the kitchen and asked Kreg if he was able to move his stuff into his room yet. He told me he hadn't been able to and that it needed some serious cleaning. That was an understatement, given the fact that a lowly wretch pack rat with absolutely no interest in hygiene had occupied the room for three years. As I stated in an earlier post, the room needed to be quarantined for at least a few days before another soul could safely step into it. I worried that Kreg would contract some strange and incurable disease from moving into the room too early and that it would be my fault. If only we had a haz-mat suit in the house. If only.

I was miles away from being pleased when I heard that Bob TV had made little or no progress in getting his stuff packed and out of our dwelling. I asked Kreg if he had told Bob TV to hurry up and get out of the room. He said aside from comments here and there, he hadn't said anything to him. However, he was getting fed up and decided he would tell Bob TV to be out of the room by eight o' clock. Bob TV entered the room a minute or two later and Kreg was granted the opportunity to share his feelings with him.

"How much longer do you think you're going to be up there, Bob?" he asked.

"Well, it shouldn't be too much longer. I don't know, I guess we'll have to see."

"Okay, I'd like the room to be cleared out by eight. I think that's fair; you've had all day."

"Sure, man, but like I said, we'll have to see."

I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "You've got some fucking nerve, Bob! That room was supposed to have been empty this morning and here it is almost six o'clock and you're still occupying it. And when you at last empty the room out, Kreg's going to have to clean it. This is unacceptable."

"Uh, excuse me", Bob TV yelped. "I'm having a conversation with Kreg. Why don't you stay out of it, okay? This doesn't involve you!"

"It damn well involves me, you fucking prick! You don't get it, do you?"

"No, I don't".

"Of course you don't. You don't see how, because of your selfishness, you've made it virtually impossible for Kreg to move in. Do you think he has all the time in the world to wait for you? You had months to prepare for this move and you didn't do shit about it!"

"Look, man, I apologized to Kreg already. Do you want me to get on my hands and knees and beg his forgiveness?" As he asked the question, he did that very thing. It was a pathetic display.

"Bob, do you know your leg is bleeding?" Kreg arbitrarily asked the kneeling figure before him.

"Yeah, I know". Bob TV got up and said to me, "Anything else you want from me? You know, you keep nagging me and it's getting old. You're like a broken record, man. I'm sick of it. I'm just sick of it!"

"I'm sick of your shit being in my house. I'm sick of seeing you drag your ass, as if you have all the time in the world to get you shit out of here. And if what I'm telling you is getting old, well given the situation, I think it bears repeating."

"Oh my God, you won't stop. I don't see how all this is a big deal. You're making this into something way bigger than it needs to be. Do you want to hit me? Will that make you feel better?" Bob spread his arms wide and walked over to me.

I didn't want to hit him, though if anyone needs a broken jaw, it's Bob fucking TV. "Cut the theatrics, Bob, and just go back to packing."

Bob TV left the room and I remained in the kitchen, flabbergasted, with Kreg. I was really fed up. This drama was extending far past the point I thought it would. I had really hoped that some part of Bob TV would realize that he needed, out of courtesy, at the very least, to put some urgency into his movements. But, knowing Bob TV, I wasn't terribly surprised that he didn't.

I tried to put a good spin on the situation. Even though Bob TV was still lingering in the house, he would soon (we hoped) be gone. And once he was but a memory, Rich, Kreg, and I would be living peacefully together. In the meantime, though, there was Bob fucking TV to contend with.

I went upstairs and packed a bag for the Cape. I was happy to be leaving. I needed to get away for a night, to cleanse myself of the taint of Bob TV. As I packed, Bob TV entered my room and asked me if I wanted some dvd's that he was holding. I told him sure, and thanked him.

When my bag was packed I closed my door behind me and walked into Bob's room. "Alright, Bob, this is it. I probably won't see you again, so I want to say good bye as friends and put aside our differences. " I went over to him and gave him a hug. Despite being pissed at his thoughtlessness surrounding the move, I didn't hate the guy. At least not yet.

Bob embraced me and teared up a little. "Man, I didn't know you were leaving now. Ok, well I guess this is goodbye. Take care, man".

I went downstairs, grabbed my keys, and headed to the Cape. I felt good: Bob TV and I didn't end our relationship on a sour note and when I returned the next day, Kreg would be all moved in and we'd be ready to embark on the next, more appealing, phase of the apartment.

The contentment would be short lived.

The heat is on

I came home for lunch and saw that Bob "There's no "I" in team, but I've never cared much for sports" TV had barely put a dent in packing. As I prepared my lunch, I asked Rich if Kreg had been able to get into the room. Not really, he told me, Bob TV's stuff was still all over the place. I noticed Kreg's new bed leaning against the wall in the dining room. It was apparent that he hadn't been able to take advantage of the free setup Jordan's offered because of Bob TV's laziness. More importantly, he had to hold off putting his stuff in his room, a room that was supposed to have been emptied out and cleaned that morning. To say the least, I was not pleased.

As I inspected the dining room, Bob TV walked through. I stood there shaking my head in disbelief. "Oh, Bob," I said. "This isn't good. Your stuff is still everywhere."

"Hey, man, I know I fucked up. There's nothing I can do to change that. I'm doing the best I can. Don't worry about it."

The frustration and mounting anger that I had previously been able to keep in check, broke through my defenses and launched forth. " I am going to worry about it, if you don't mind. Until I see your stuff out of the house with my own eyes, I'm going to worry about it. This is ridiculous! It's midday and Kreg has to wait for you to finish packing before he can move his stuff in."

Bob "Give me an inch and I'll take twelve miles" TV became animated and started to yell. "What do you want from me? Nagging me to get my shit out of here isn't going change anything!"

"First of all, I wasn't nagging you; I was making an observation. But, yes, I want your shit out of here".

"If you just SHUT UP ABOUT IT, I can get back to work. So SHUT UP! Okay?"

The floodgates were open. The somewhat level speaking voice I had maintained up to that point had disappeared into the memory bank and was replaced by something bestial and loud. " I will not shut up, you fucking prick, because you need a spark under your ass! Until every last item you own is out of my house, I will nag you as often as I like. Okay? "

Bob became even more animated, wandering into tantrum territory, where brisk pacing and spastic arm-waving are common place. After engaging in both actions, he made a dramatic beeline towards me. "My stuff will be out of here when it's out of here. Don't like that? Well, what are you going to do about it? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"

He was baiting me, I knew. He was challenging me to take the exchange to a new level. The beast that had arisen within me was about to strike the fuck in the jaw--oh, that pompous prick was so close, practically begging for it-- but was overruled by the rational part of me that had previously been dormant. At the time, I was pissed at my "weak" response, which was, in a nut shell, "Nothing, Bob. I guess I'll there's nothing I can do. Maybe I'll just have to throw your junk onto the curb". Later, in hindsight, I'm glad that matters weren't taken to the physical level; not because I was afraid of him--that malnourished man-child couldn't threaten a four year old--but because I wanted to take the high road for as long as I could.

"You'd be doing me a favor", he said. He was right, I would be doing him a favor. He had me there.

" You really don't give a shit, do you?"

"No, I don't. I don't give a shit. So why don't you just shut up and let me pack."

"When I get home from work, you better be done packing, you selfish prick!"

With that, I went back to work. Throughout the rest of the day I hoped that he would be gone by the time I got home. The hope wasn't born from a desire to avoid another confrontation with Bob TV; I just wanted to come home and see that Kreg was moved in without too much fuss, the earlier turmoil of the day out of harm's way and buried deep in the annals of the past. Bob TV, the egocentric pig, would see to it that my hope wouldn't amount to anything more than that.

The Wretch, part 3

I came home for lunch on Friday and found Bob TV at the top of the stairs on the landing between our rooms. He was throwing stuff into a trash barrel which was already full and swarming with flies (two types: fruit and the bigger ones I don't know the name of). Good, I thought, he's actually doing something; got the wheels in motion. I wasn't too pleased at all the flies that had migrated from his room to mine, but whatever, things were getting done. I ate my lunch and headed back to work, my mind at rest.

When I came home that evening, it didn't look like Bob TV had made any progress with his packing. This was alarming to me because Kreg was going to be arriving early the following morning. He was having a bed delivered from Jordan's and wanted to be there to sign off on it and take advantage of a free set up. I held my tongue and took it on faith that Bob "My word is nothing more than shit" TV would do as he said and spend all night if he had to getting his stuff packed and out of the room.

I knew that Bob's procrastination was going to prevent him from cleaning his room , that den of body odor, stale cigarette smell, dead skin, and God knows what else. That room needed to have been aired out, quarantined even, days beforehand. Now, it didn't like it was going to happen at all. Well, at least he was moving out. There was that.

Throughout the night I'd pass by his room and look through the crack in the door. His room looked as lived in as ever and my hope that he was making progress diminished considerably. I decided not to fret about it and went to bed.

I woke up Saturday morning and got ready for work. Not a peep was heard from behind Bob "I told you once, I'll tell you again--I don't care about anyone but myself" TV's door. I ate breakfast and fumed. Nothing had been done, at least not in the house proper. His shit was laying everywhere.

Before I left for work, I pounded on his door. "Bob, you've got to get up. Kreg will be here in about twenty minutes!"

From his room came a cracked, slurred, and nonplussed voice. "Oh, I guess I should get up then."

I went downstairs to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I was done a minute later, I went through the kitchen to head out the back door. Standing in the kitchen pissing into a Fresca bottle was none other than Bob"The Ladies Man" TV. I was rendered speechless and could only ruefully shake my head. Bob TV scurried out the back door with his piss bottle and I followed, only because that was the way to my car. As I came down the stairs, I saw Bob TV at the side of the house dumping his piss all over the place. He started talking to me, but none of it registered; I was dumbfounded.

That was just the tip of the iceberg. Bob TV was about to show us what it means to be a small, selfish, and uncaring cunt.

Part 2 of the BTV saga

When I told Rich about Bob "The world is my oyster and you're all just bits of shell" TV's request to sleep on the couch for a night or two, his face reddened and he replied "no fucking way" followed by the million dollar question, " Doesn't he already have a place to go?".

"Of course he does", I replied. "He has a room waiting for him in Nashville at his mother's house. I guess he's just trying to prolong the inevitable." Bob TV's mood had been--how should I put it?--unhinged the days leading up to his move. He had confessed to me a day or two before that he hadn't been sleeping much or at all and he was really stressing out over the move. At the time, I remembered thinking how that didn't bode well, that if this guy was rendered immobile by his low state of mind, we'd be in for a rough time when it came time for him to leave. How prophetic the thought turned out to be.

After getting the thumbs down from Rich, I called Kreg and asked what he thought about Bob TV crashing on our couch, half expecting him to acquiesce out of general kindness. He didn't take long to stamp a whopping "NO" on idea, adding that with Bob "The Wretch" TV if you give an inch he takes a mile. I was pleased to hear that the guys didn't go for the idea, because the longer I thought about it, the more I realized that Kreg was right and we'd never be able to get the son-of-a-bitch to leave. I thought about all of his broken promises over the last year, about how selfish he'd become when he didn't get his way.

Thursday night Bob TV came downstairs to the kitchen where he found Rich and I conversing. He looked miserable, disheveled; not like someone who was in the process of packing his belongings. If I could have, if there was more time, I would have confronted him when he was more lucid, but it was Thursday night and he hadn't done a lick of packing yet.

"Hey Bob, we've got to talk about when you're going to start packing", I said. "We didn't want to pressure you before, but now we're concerned you're not going to have enough time."

Bob "The Melodramatic" TV looked at me as if I wasn't there until his dulled mind finally caught up to events and responded in a slow and thick drawl, "Look man, I told you guys before that I'd be out of that room in time for Kreg to move in. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm doing the best I can. Please, believe me. Tomorrow, I'm going to get up really early and, if I have to, I'll pack straight through the night."

I told him that was fine but because he was cutting it so close, we wanted to know what his plans were. Then, I told him about not being able to sleep on the couch. He didn't react too well.

"Are you serious? Why the hell not? I'm just going to crash on the couch for a few days. I'll be out of your hair by Tuesday the latest!".

Tuesday? He had told me it would only be for a "night or two". I told him Kreg wasn't down with his request and that Rich, since he was present, could answer for himself, which he did, explaining to Bob TV that he just didn't think it was a good idea.

Bob began to get heated. "No, you've got to explain to me why so that I know. You can't just say no and not back it up."

Rich was becoming visibly upset. " Actually, I can say what I want and I don't have to back anything up. I don't get it, Bob, why do you have to stay? Don't you have a place to go?"

"Sure I do", he answered. I just need a place to display the stuff I want to sell on Craig's list."

"Whoah!", I said. "You mean to tell me that you want to use our house as a showroom, with strangers coming in and out over the next few days?"

"It won't be a problem. I'll be invisible. All my stuff will be in my car and the little that will remain in the house will be tucked away in the corner."

"I'm sorry Bob, but no", I said.

Bob TV began to get worked up and teary, pacing around like a dog in a thunderstorm. "I-I've n-never denied anyone a c-couch in my life. Kreg's a pussy for not telling me to my face. A FUCKING PUSSY!!!"

I tried explaining to him that Kreg wasn't directly involved with this because he had enough on his plate getting his stuff together for his move. I asked Bob not to call him about any of this, that he should treat me as his proxy. I really didn't want that fuck calling Kreg and blubbering about what a pussy he was for not letting him crash on the couch. I tried to remain calm, despite Bob "I'm aware that I'm a selfish prick; I just don't care" TV's overreaction to his request being denied.

"So Rich isn't responding to me (which was true. Rich went silent when Bob began his tantrum.) and Kreg won't speak to me directly. T-this is f-fucking unreal. I-I thought I lived with friends. I guess I was wrong!" With that, he went up to his room.

I felt bad for him, then. On paper, his request to sleep on our couch didn't look unreasonable, but we weren't dealing with a reasonable person. But still, I felt compassion towards him. Underneath his self-involved outer shell, resided a sweet, affable man. I went to his room to see how he was holding up. Not too well, I discovered.

"I-I c-can't believe those guys d-don't want m-me to stay. I-I need to s-sleep."

I told him not to sweat any of it and that tomorrow would be a new day, one that would find him revived and focused. He told me he appreciated my being there and shut off his light and fell asleep.

Looking back on that night, I can't help but marvel at how quickly our relationship was to change in the coming days.

I want to hurt him/ I want to give him pain/ I'm a roman candle/ my head is full of flames (Part I)

I just realized it's been a good stretch of days since my last post. The reason is because a lot of shit has been going down and I'm just now starting to come out from under it. The shit I refer to ---and I mean this literally--- is Bob "The Grandmaster Assfuck" TV and his abominable behavior concerning the way in which he moved out of my house this weekend. It has turned into such an ordeal that I'm going to have to divide the telling of this tale into a few parts.

Before I begin, though, I want to highlight the good that came out of this past weekend. Saturday night I drove down to Falmouth to visit Michelle, a friend I don't see enough of, and met her friends, all of whom I found to be of high quality. In particular, I had an instant fondness for her friend Kim and Kim's boyfriend, Bob. I had a great time. Thanks, Michelle.

And even though Bob TV, the fucking prick, did his best to make everyone's life miserable, it was great seeing Kreg in the house as a roommate and not a guest. I'm glad he's here and I'm looking forward to the new dynamic in the house. The three of us are going to have a good time.

Ok, where to begin. Bob "The Rat fucker" TV notified us that he was intending to move at the end of August way back in May. Two weeks ago he quit his job. Think he did any packing? If you guessed "No way, because he's a selfish prick and he'll always be one", then you guessed correctly. Rich and I didn't get on his case about packing because the couple of times we inquired about it he grew all uptight and declared, promised even, that he'd be out of the house Sep. 1st and no later.

Some time last week, Bob "I only care about my own needs and fuck the rest of you" TV came home with a newly purchased acoustic guitar. "Hey, Man", he said to me as I was making my way to my room. "Isn't this the prettiest thing you've ever seen? I just want to sit here all day and look at it."

"Pretty nice, Bob. Listen, when are you going to get around to packing? You've got an awful lot of stuff in the house and I'm wondering how you're going to be able to get it all done a couple of days."

"Look, man, it's not going to an issue. I told you and Rich I'd have the stuff taken care of this weekend and I meant it. No need to worry. While I've got you here, do you think it would be cool if I crashed on the couch for a night or two once Kreg moves in?"

"I don't care, but you're going to have to check with Rich and Kreg. I'm going to be going away for a portion of the weekend so it doesn't make much difference to me, but they may not be keen on having you and your stuff still here."

"Cool man, I'll check with Rich and Kreg. I'm sure they won't mind"
--

This ends part one of the tale. I'm exhausted and I'll pick the story up where I left off tomorrow night. Fear not, it gets a lot jucier.