Name Game

I don’t often venture this blog’s commentary/observations into the international realm often, and I know the spelling is different and all, but could the last name of Iraq’s president — Talabani — be any more ironic?

Don’t Ride Angry

Sent out another batch of rezooms to another batch of companies looking for people half as talented and three times as cheap as I am — that’s the way to look at it, eh? I’m sure I’ll find the ideal job that way! Then I got on my bike and headed out for Samy’s Camera some seven miles away over on Fairfax to pick up the Canon camera that’s back from the manufacturer and good as new.

Oh boy but did I saddle up on The Phoenix in a foul weather. With The Clash’s “London Calling” pounding in my ears from my iPod’s headphones I even punched straight into the teeth of some of the heaviest-trafficked streets like Santa Monica and Vine and Beverly pedaling hard and acting like I was 10-feet wide and twice as long and daring anyone wearing a seatbelt and a shit-eating grin to do so much as look at me the wrong way, never mind cut me off or try to turn me into a hood ornament.

I’ll admit it, I was spoiling for a confrontation. I had a banana clip of expletives locked and loaded and ready to fire at the first target to present itself. But to my dismay the large segment of the four-wheeled world that I involved myself with from Silver Lake to Fairfax was on its best behavior today. They were looking just to get back to work or to lunch or to wherever the hell they were going, or maybe they all got the memo… the one that advised to be on the lookout and avoid antagonizing at all costs the crazed, orange-helmeted unemployed middle-aged freak overtly asserting that he and his two wheeled transportation did own the damn road.

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