Multi-tasking, poorly in Normal entries

It’s the crack of 1023 EST on the seventh of February 2018. My granddaughter just turned sixteen, touch and I kill you, kill you all night long. God knows when this will actually post, I mean, the date and year aren’t just smartassholery on my part. I’m dealing with the tail end of an attempted identity theft, laundry and finishing a purchase of a pipe from Kiev. Like every other American from the clown in chief down to the poor bastard using newspaper to keep feet dry, I’m suspicious of the domestic news, the quality and veracity of the domestic news. I’ve just come to realize how badly represented the international news for everything except natural disasters and even those are heavily editorialized.

From here Brexit looked like a financial decision of the UK to distance themselves from the Euro. That’s sort of how the ministry of truth presented it. I mean I’ve never trusted the conservative media and the liberal media has increasingly proved itself untrustworthy and, honestly, the media should at least try to pretend it’s trying to pretend to be objective. I mean I saw other reports on other ramifications of Brexit but they sounded so filtered through American shit colored goggles as to lack credulity. Apparently shit colored goggles are not exclusively American.

The news from the Russian Federation is wildly different than the way it’s presented here. The whole Trump and Putin thing aside (foreign governments shouldn’t be able to influence any given democracies election process, not arguing, just saying the allegation is serious) Russia seems to have it’s own growing pains and trials and tribulations that have never come across my desk. Ok, my desk isn’t even an acid test like Peoria for plays, but, there aren’t any no trespassing signs anywhere near my desk, and sometimes I invite weird shit over for a play date.

Whew, theft business is in hand. Son of a bitch had the nerve to call my card issuer and request an extra card be sent to an address in Kentucky. Now, I know folks in Kentucky, all of whom have problems enough being themselves without trying to be me. I’m guessing the person whose address it is is probably out of town for the winter and someone was planning on grabbing their mail. I don’t know, problem averted, eyes dotted tees crossed. Shit. Tees. Laundry.

Wow. Where was I? Kiev. Kiev is in the Ukraine, I’m not sure they are part of the Russian federation, I haven’t had much cause to think about it. I’m pretty good with Russian history from around 1890 up to about 1987 and Polish from about 1890 to about 1980. I had skin in the game. I’ve recently come to appreciate the hell out of Russian pipes, and, like when I had a thing for Italian pipes, you get a better selection and sometimes a better price if you go to the source. Modern American pipe smokers can be a greedy lot unless you make a few friends. American eBay is like a digital trough for capitalist cannibals. Without an apple and a road map you won’t survive for long, and you should either leave your wallet or your ego with a trusted associate, friend or lover (if there isn’t a ring on that lover play for small stakes). I can’t say for sure, but it seems like some people bid on shit just to be the winner or, I don’t know, maybe to recover a family heirloom. For a place that looks like a garage some folks go all Sotheby’s on your ass. Even though Van Gough painted it and the Sotheby’s auctioneer has that high class clipped British accent, the painting is used, other people have had their eyeballs all over it. A new Van Gough, that’d be worth shelling out some serious long green for.

Ok, so hyperbole is my middle name, fuck you, it’s a family name.

If I ever had a train of thought it’s left the station and been held up by desperados for the strong box holding the miner’s payroll. I’m going to go sniff laundry.