The Church Of A Swift Kick To The Knackers

 Today I entered the third week of the curse I have named "A Virus Named Fred."  I haven't named my affliction because of friendliness or familiarity. I have named it Fred because Fred is a prick, and the name fits, in honor of all of the pricks named Fred in my past and present life.  The virus is a shape shifter.  It is like your alcoholic brother in law, who stays with you until the booze runs out, makes a blessed intention to leave, and then decides to come back and finish off the Lysol.  Just when you think he's gone, Fred is horking up on the area rug. Fred needs to leave. My patience is thinner than the hair on my head!   I have passed my sick time streaming serials from the 30s and 40s. Cheesy black and white crime and science fiction flicks, twelve or thirteen parts to each, made back in the day when a night out at the movies was a cartoon, a serial chapter, and the feature, instead of advertisements and CG kabooms. My current serial is Flash Gordo...

 There hasn't been much rain, but there has been enough to dampen the ground and the spirits of the district farmers, who have parked the combines and headed to to the coffee shops, taverns, and parts-stores for 'supplies'. They all may be complaining about the weather, how there is seven degrees of separation from harvest rain to Trudeau, but I am enjoying being able to open a window without the belching, burping, black diesel smoke, and the sickening fine dust of the machine driving past. Clean air and country silence. The way it's meant to be. I'm not saying that I want then to park the machines for the year. I know they have a job that needs to get done.  I'm just saying that it's nice that Mother Nature decided to give us all a break. "But my wheat's grade." "Suck it up. You'll survive Jethro." And he will. Because deep down he knows that it could be snow instead of rain.   Don't drink too much today, Jethro. The sun is g...

"SquashHulk angry!" "SquashHulk smash!" It's big, It's ugly, it's green. IT'S ANGRY! (I hope It's edible) That's a size 13 shoe beside.

 I was pissed off that the wait for a lumbering freight at a highway 7 level crossing, west of Saskatoon, was over 15 minutes, but I was entertained by the slide show that rolled past.  I would have taken photos of the show but I wasn't prepared to enjoy an on my phone ticket from the officer in the RCMP cruiser that was waiting in the lane to my right. This blog is a fun mess, but there is no possible way I can afford a ticket just to enhance the visuals.   Photos would have been nice. There are very talented people tagging the train cars. You will see the most colourful, most graphically precise work on a car. That is the Journeyperson tagger.  And then maybe two or ten cars down, past varying levels of work and prose, you will see it in sprayed black scrawl. "Fuck" The apprentice speaks. Well, we all had to start somewhere. I give these people credit. It must take a considerable amount of hutzpah to hang out in rail yards, trying to find enough light to do your be...