It is ill-advised to approach a fellow commuter on the city bus and ask him/her if he/she would like to become a member of the "Four-Foot-High Club."

I just got an email from a "Denise Blake" Re: the mortgage saver we discussed NTGDL!!!
I'm pretty sure it stands for "not two . ..GOD DAMMIT LOOK!!!"

Go Greyhound

This past weekend I had to return to Tallahassee to attend my step-sister Bonnie's wedding. Actually, the wedding was on the beach on St. George Island, and I was only in Tallahassee for a few hours before getting off and then getting back on the Greyhound bus. That's why I didn't/couldn't get in touch with any of you. I'm pretty sure I didn't tell anyone I was coming anyway, as not to get any hopes up, because this was a weekend I had to dedicate solely to my (birth) family. I think next time I come over I'll just crash on one a' you guys' couches and not even tell my parents that I'm there. That'll balance it out, right?
So. Anyway. This story isn't about the wedding, or the beach, or my family, but it is about my bus trip over from New Orleans. My ride back was pretty tame, but goddamn if the trip over wasn't worth writing home (page) about. The first bus was from New Orleans to Mobile, AL, and, since all the seats up front were taken as I was boarding, I sat towards the back of the bus where the "trouble-makers" usually fare. And make they did. Oh my the cast of characters sitting to the side and behind me. Many of them were very sloshed in the gourdy as they climbed aboard. One only barely got on under the provision of the bus driver man that if he were to cause any further trouble he would be dismissed wherever the hell we were. So, as we got rolling they're all faking sneezes to cover the sounds of Busch cans being opened. Cute. Truthfully I coulda used a beer or something to take the edge off. If alcohol is the 'social lubricant' what's the 'social de-lubricant'? Incest? Baby-fucking? Whatever. No big deal. They were having some brews. S'cool, bro. So then this giant red-neck oil-rigger starts talking music. "Ya heard that Limp Bizkit song? The one he says,'It's just one a' those days, thatcha don't wanna wake up?" He went on to sing the verse to himself over and over. "I feel like that sometimes. Those days you just don't wanna wake up." We all do, friend. And have you ever heard someone with a thick Southern accent make fun of Southern accents? This was a first for me. "Hey, girl, where you from?" "I'm from M'issippi." "HAR HAW HAR! 'M'ISSIPPI'!" Fucking choice. Maybe you had to be there. So then they broke out the coke and started passing it around. I think I pretended to be asleep. It's not that I don't like a little bump 'n snizzle now and again, but I'm fairly discerning about the company I keep in such situations. Especially with the Great White Sketch. So, the bus driver never got hip to their grind, even though I'm pretty sure I smelled someone smoking a bowl also, and I fell asleep with my backpack's straps wound tightly around my arm.
Okay. Mobile, AL. Bus number two. Boy was it ever. This time the only available spaces were towards the front of the bus. I had to sit next to this 60-or-so-year-old man. This was at about three a.m., mind you, and I'm looking forward to just passing out. But no. Mr. Talks-and-Talks-and-Talks-But-Never-Listens had been riding the bus since sunny L.A., and his sleep cycle was all outta whack. He'd just woken up, he confided, and it just didn't stop. He was out in L.A. visiting his 34 year-old daughter, a lawyer, that was under a great deal of stress because she's apparently involved in one of the CEO got sold down the river cases so popular a few months ago. Her new husband is a musician, so he takes all of Mr.TaTaTBNL's blame, and he also accused the musician mari of getting her hooked on drugs. "She's a good girl. She would never do anything like that." I wondered how well Mr. TaTaTBNL could really know his daughter. If he was with her anything like he was with me, then I imagine he actually knew very little about her life. But, hey, not my deal. He told me a story about his going to a dentist and how after he flashed his Mason ring he got the price dropped from 2800 dollars to 750. "It sucks for the poor people, but, hey, that's the game, right?" This brought to mind one of my chief, uh, qualms with a lot of rap lyrics, too, in that, well, anyone who says to me,"Don't hate the player, hate the Game," has obviously missed the next, perfectly obvious, logical bit of insight in that, if there were no 'players' there would be no 'game'. Don't get me wrong, I still listen to a lot of rappers that espouse this "philosophy". Cool Keith comes to mind. I just wish they'd see how played out it is. It must be, like, a clause in their contract like the pro-misogyny one. You know that, right? They have pro-misogyny clauses in their contracts. Furthermore, if there were no soldiers there would be no war, but I digress. He asked me what I do, and I work and go to school. I told him I might be an English major. This was the wrong thing to tell an aspiring poet (god, I hate poetry) and he took the opportunity to share some of his 'work' with me. I wish I could remember some of them to share with you, but you would probably be thankful that I can't. Then he tells me I should check out some Christian sci-fi writer ("He's really good!") by the name of Frank Peretti, and he also recited a Christian poem. Something about a member of the carpenter's guild making a cross for Hay Zeus. Very ironic, no? You ever talk to someone that seems to have figured out that if they keep changing the subject then they can keep saying the most ridiculous and offensive things with little chance of someone actually trying to dissuade or disagree with them? That was this guy's style. Kinda like verbal rape, I suppose. So he starts this lesson on blind faith, and how he hopes that all atheists/agnostics go blind and lose their sense of hearing, cause apparently that would show them the proper way to live. Huh? I didn't quite get it either, and my chief complaint with organized religion has always been the stupidity and complacency of faith, but whatever. He's old. It would also turn out that he's an ex-marine. He joined during the Bay of Pigs scandal, and he still calls JFK "[his] Commander -in-Chief". Sheesh. Then he started complaining about all the holocaust museums sprouting up all around the country and how he had it shoved down his throat all growing up and how, "that's Europe's shame, not ours. We shouldn't have to hear about it all the time." Against better judgement, I made a comparison to all the 9/11 shit that kids will have to hear about from now on. Why are 'patriots' always the last people you want on your side? He shares with me a piece of thought(lessness) that he must've found brilliant. Here's his plan: on 9/11 this year, we (the US of A) should plant nuclear devices in all major Arab cities and detonate them to "show them who's boss!" I wonder, sometimes, why they hate us. But not tonight. I was trying not to be rude, but at that point I couldn't take it anymore and I grabbed my cd player outta my bag and made quite a demonstration of putting it over my ears. That pigfucker. Then, the cocksucker tells me, as I'm finally, thankfully getting off the bus in Tallahassee,"God Bless!" As Thompson would've said,"He did me on all fronts!" These guys always seem to seek me out. Is there a sign on me that says,"Skullfuck this kid"? Oh well.
My point being, I infinitely preferred the company of the first bus.