Just a quick ZODIAC update / recap.

• Grown men in short pants 
• Women wearing Baseball caps
• Having to talk to complete idiots
• Complete idiots
• Mouthbreathers
• People who say they "Don't like porn"
• Transit line jumpers
• Anyone who harms animals

(to be continued...) 

XXVII / VIII / MMXI a.s.

WHY?

While standing at one of the SkyTrain Stations, waiting to get home, I noticed that every 5 or 6 trains or so, one would just scream through, and the announcement board said : TRAIN NOT STOPPING. Why not? It's going our way, it's empty, it can't go in any direction other than ours, so what's the problem? Its not like it needs a coffee break or a pee break or anything, its a machine, goddamnit! Then, when I finally get home, I'm sitting in the shitter, reading the product monograph for my latest prescription (I'm one of those who can't shit without reading something, and 'Lather, Rinse, Repeat' tends to get old real fast - plus I already know how it ends) and one of the side effects is 'impending feelings of doom'. Not really something you want to see on your bottle of tranquilizers.

So, I'm gonna take my tranquilizers and, now let me get this straight, take my tranks  and possibly experience one or more of the following: nausea, headache, restlessness, insomnia, dryness in mouth, abdominal pains, anxiety, or impending feelings of doom. Are these not most of the reasons I got on the fucking tranks in the first place?  

At least it gave me some insight as to why so many American women became suicidal on Prozac. It wasn't the drug itself, per se, but the fact that, as their outlook cleared, they came to the realization that : "I'm a 377 pound American woman with no education, no job, and 9 kids all living in a double-wide. Hon, pass me the squirrel gun, would ya?"

As always, Be safe.

TRS

Where is the Zodiac when we need him?

This offering to The Zodiac: Self-righteous, militant non-smokers. The ones who start coughing and covering their sour, pinched faces when they're still 60 feet away with the wind at their backs.  The ones with the horrified expressions, who pass by looking at me as though I were pointing an M-16 at their smug, pointy heads.  The ones who sit right next to me on the bench. The bench with the giant ash - tray at one end.   The bench with the giant ash - tray at one end that happens to be the only legal smoking area on that entire side of the mall.  And then have the nerve to say "Do you HAVE to smoke right  here?" Why, yes, actually, you brain-dead bundle of FUCK! And while I'm at it, why, in the name of Lucifer, would you oooze up and park your too-tight-to-even fart ass on an obvious smoking bench, between 2 or 3 equally obvious and currently active smokers, unless the entire exercise is simply meant to give you something to whine and moan about all day. Whats the matter ? Jerry Springer not on today? Nothing to bitch about at home? No gay inter-racial couple to set fire to? Get a life, you fucking pinheads, bitch about something real for once. Thanx for listening.
Be safe,
TRS

Where is the Zodiac when we need him?

XXVI / VIII / MMXI


Here it is: the first installment of  'Where is the Zodiac when we need him?' As usual, the list is in no particular order and I enthusiastically encourage you to send me your own recommendations. 

1. Ex's. I don't think this one needs any explanation. C'mon, there's a reason they're 'ex'.
2. 97% of the world's hypochristians. Again, clarification not required.
3. The entire Walton family.
4. Animal abusers (although I'd hope the Zodiac would let me do this one)
5. Lawmakers who dream up different laws and regulation for different social classes and ethnic origins.

                               

Til next time, stay out of the cross-hairs.

TRS

VIII /  XXVI / XLV

A few months back, MsAnthropy expressed the desire to spawn (after 12 years of blissful childlessness), so I began the arduous task of researching the marketplace in order to compare the latest available models, giving us the edge in what I must assume to be a highly competitive area.  Much to my dismay (and no small amount of growing uncertainty) nearly every style and make I observed was possessed of the same features - the most obvious being a high-pitched, shrieking, siren-like  sound emanating from the upper end of the unit. I had originally assumed this to be a factory defect in the rubbery hole in the lower anterior facet of the main sensory cluster housing, or, as one irate mother informed me, "that's my baby's HEAD, asshole!"  As there seems to be no permanent way to dampen or suppress this noise, I am forced to conclude that there exists some type of after-market kit to remedy the situation. 

Another common feature is the fascinating ability to hypnotize, mesmerize, or somehow cloud their parents minds to all the running through stores, howling, package ripping and general screaming  mayhem,  totally visible and audible to all but their handlers, or 'parents', as they like to be called.

Vivid, animated descriptions of these observed behaviors, with all the characters portrayed (more than acceptably, I might add), by myself, backed up with video footage taken in the field may evidently be sufficient incentive for MsAnthropy to spawn, and effectively swing her away from the 'Maternal instincts' and 'Bundle of Joy' side of the scale, and more comfortably towards the 'Let's get another kitten' end of things, without the need for a full scale simulation, (as I had feared). This comes as a great relief, I have absolutely no idea where a baby can be rented or leased. Hell, I don't even know the requisite protocalls needed to make an acceptably PC inquiry or offer on the temporary use of a stranger's offspring. 

And so, at least for now, the worst case scenario for my domestic existence is cleaning out the kitty litter box. And if that's the  worst case scenario, given the other option, (a scaled down version of me), then I, my friends, am one seriously happy FUCK.

As always, Be safe until next time.

TRS