Author: Dick

Hey, that would make a great name for a newspaper, The Morning Procrastinator. Its motto would be: “We’ll bring you today’s news … maybe tomorrow … sometime for sure.”

Actually I am just having my final morning cup o’ Joe before I bury myself into a monastic like fit of labor on the tech writing job from hell. My first deadline is Friday. No problem, except, I am leaving town for Dallas tomorrow. Then Thursday I head out to Detroit for what I have dubbed “EFD’s Big Adventure.”

My friend Ross, who lives in a Dallas exurb, and I are flying to the Motor City early Thursday morning. And we will be returning by automobile with maybe a few stops here and there. I’ll just leave it at that for now. I don’t mean to be mysterious. Oh, what the hell, I guess I do. Anyway, it’s only mysterious to those of you who are not among the 2/5 of my regular readership to whom I have revealed our reasons for travel to the frozen northland. When I say 2/5, I mean two readers.

More to come later, perhaps from North Central Texas tomorrow if not before and then? Wherever I find a suitable Internet connection.

My MRI was moved up to this morning from this afternoon. I just returned from a whirlwind trip to the Houston VA hospital, about 1 1/2 hours one way. I think that’s the third time I’ve had an MRI and this was by far the noisiest and loudest one yet. I can’t imagine how loud it would be without the puny foam earplugs Tyrone the Tech gave me. It was like I was trapped inside some sort telecommunications switching station — not just standing inside looking at the hardware — but rather reclining inside the switches and cable. And the sounds were turned up to maximum on volume. Really, really, loud, weird stuff. I hope that the MRI doesn’t find my head empty again. I hate when that happens.

I am trying to cram a few things into tight spaces. Hmmm. I won’t know how that sounds until tomorrow. Nonetheless, I am talking about trying to finish up an installment of my tech writing over the next couple of days while fitting in a drive to Houston for an MRI tomorrow and an eventual EFD big adventure up North later this week. More on the big adventure later. The MRI, if I was a betting man, I would say may show some sort of spinal stenosis. But maybe not. I’m not a medical prognosticator. If I was, I wouldn’t need a MRI. But I guess I’ll eventually find out. Meanwhile, I hope to blog from distant lands this week. Motown perhaps. Molater mosdef.

It finally happened. My head finally exploded.

My afternoon’s labors have been spent on the project from hell, a tech writing job on which I cannot or, at least should not, elaborate. Let me just say it is quite mentally taxing.

I have a little bit more to do today on the project but I thought I would take a break before I go bat s**t crazy. So I walked outside a few minutes ago. They started back renovating a house across the street that they were renovating when I first moved in. I can’t remember if they stopped before Hurricane Rita or after Rita but they just recently started working on the house again. Some kind of machine was going over there, a saw or some other contraption with a high-pitched, irritating sound that almost made me as bat s**t crazy as my work assignment. The worker bees across the street were shouting, I suppose so they could be heard over the noise. I’m not sure what they said since I know very little Espanol. I think they either said: “You go inside and shut off that damn saw or I will hit you with a hammer,” or “The sparkle in your eye only matches the beauty of your smile.” Damned if I know.

Oh well, break time’s over. Everybody back on their heads.

Osama bin Joe Bob returns from the dead.

The news today is that Osama made a video and that the CIA says it is really him speaking. And he supposedly wants a truce. I really see that happening.

I am really surprised that, if he really is alive, the United States military has not yet captured him. Osama is not in the best of health, reportedly, and you got to figure if he’s been hiding out in the rugged Afghan or Pakistani mountains then he probably hasn’t been living large.

I’m sure all sorts of explanations exist why Osama has not yet been caught. But I would think at some point in time his smell would give him away. I just figure the man has got to have some B.O. if he has been living in the mountains all these years. I mean, there probably are places to take a bath but you wouldn’t want to do it outside, even at night lest a drone launch a Hellfire missile up your butt. Odor is a pretty noticeable thing and a big, stinking beanpole should stick out at the very least. Yet he remains elusive. That’s all I’m saying.