Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Canning Paradigm Shift

Even though I'm on the verge of yet another financial crisis, I just haven't been able to bring myself to go canning. I'm not even sure I'll be willing to make myself do it for even just a couple hours this evening, after what will probably be another bland disappointment in the guise of a healthy vegetarian dinner.

One of the things I dislike about it is that the longer I'm at it the more likely I'll cave into the temptation to drink, something I've been intending to put an end to for embarrassing numbers of years! This means I'm probably going to start tomorrow going out twice daily on micro canning runs of four or five dollars apiece, with the option to collect more if superfluity happens upon me; the idea is not to be at it for more than three hours at a time. Another thing that bothers me about canning is the presence of my betters and the imagined stares and mockery I perceive emanating from them like all people sensitive to the notion of dignity imagine when they feel they're disgracing themselves in public. The result has been that I drink up most of the money earned and eat nothing at all because I've skipped the free meals in favor of more vain striving and even more beer. This has made for a surly and depressed ball of snakes for a psychology whose teeth is always on edge. To minimize my exposure to the more affluent primates of Northwest I'm going to go out early in the morning and later in the evening, instead of during the afternoon and early evening like I have been.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Black Hitler in the Meal Line

I was standing in line at Trinity Cathedral yesterday, waiting patiently for my used-to-include-delicious-Blue-Death-chili food bag (like a sack lunch, but with canned goods), when suddenly a verbal altercation behind me pierced the wall of sound I like to surround myself with whenever I'm out suffering the babbling brook of humanity.

It was yet another angry black man from out of state, who is so bitter about being in a mostly white town that he projects his discomfort and anxiety onto the nicest white people in the country by accusing them of being racist — another New Portland social phenomenon I'm already beyond sick and tired of. I've even heard the occasional black go so far as to assert that they CAN'T be racist! Yet my experience has been there's a lot more black-on-white predation in this town than vice versa. So, you're getting back in touch with your African heritage by selling some credulous cracker oregano sprayed with Lysol®? Healing the generations of pain born out of slavery and segregation by punching a white guy in a church lunch because he wouldn't let you use his Tapatío®? It's embracing of victim-hood — especially endemic among the impoverished — that encourages worldviews and lifestyles that hinder anyone, black or white, from feeling good about themselves and living comfortable and enjoyable lives. Just think, if the Jews had done in Lisbon in the fifteenth century what black people are doing right now in Baltimore, they wouldn't have even lasted long enough to experience the Holocaust! Not only that, but victims have a distressing tendency to turn into abusers, ensuring a world perpetually enshrouded in darkness.