Wednesday, September 13, 2006

I've Got To Stop Watching The News.

I am depressed. A few nights ago, the President of the United States gave the annual State of the Union address. It was a dishonest speech. The President used most of the time promoting the war with Iraq. When the democratics complained about the politicization of the address, the next day the official White House spokesanus explained that the President needed to talk about Iraq because Iraq was an essential part of the official "War on Terror". Bullshit. Saddam Husseins' Iraq, while a brutal dictatorship, was the very last country on Earth that would've supported Islamic terrorists. The United States imprisoned captured Al Quaeda. Saddam Hussein boiled them, their families, their friends, in Nitric acid. Invading Iraq, deposing Saddam Hussein, will be known to future historians as the single best thing that was ever done to support Al Quaeda. Whose side is Geo. Bush working for?

In local news, Christine has embarked on a new business venture. While reactions from the clan range from shock and awe to wry amusement - I, myself, will wait and see whether buying and selling used cars at auctions will be profitable or lint collage construction.

And Christopher got a detention in school. Way to go-Christo! Break those rules-one time. One detention is good. (Thirty-five detentions are too many.) Can't go through life obeying All of the rules, all of the time. Sometimes, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Labor Day Weekend

Labor Day Weekend in Beautiful Downtown Keene
I've been listening to a dog in a car parked outside who has no task in his life more important than to bark at every passing threat to the family truck. Everything that passes by is a threat. I don't know if the hours of barking gives the dog a headache. I don't know if dogs can get a headache. I know I can. I am.

Saturday Night in Keene. Christine picks me up. Christine gives me a hug. The spikes of her newly done lesbian brush-cut hair stab me in the chin. This turns out to be the most exciting part of the night. We go looking for trouble. We go looking for trouble by following Christines' plan of parking in front of a house near the newly-built police station to watch for police cars with flashing blue-lights to follow. After thirty-five minutes of watching and waiting, while Christine inhales daintily nibbles a few dozen handful of grapefuit-flavored candies, two police cars speed by. We follow them. We park crookedly in one of the Keene State College parking lots - where, for about an hour, we watch the two police cars arrange the towing of a small red pickup truck. We don't actually see the truck being towed...we're 150 yards away across the intersection. But we watch the flashing blue police lights. In time, we (Christine) run low on the grapefruit-flavored candies. We spot another TWO police cars. They head towards downtown. We follow. They appear to turn left onto West Street. Stymied by the red light, we lose them. We park downtown. We hope for another episode of aunt-fucker and his little pudge-ball of a wife fighting. But-alas-nothing. We part company dejected.

Sunday Night. Eight PM. (Christine's version of early-morning. Christine's a night-owl 'till school re-opens.) Eight PM. Christine picks me up. Well, actually, I'm waiting outside since about seven-thirty - but, for Christine, being there within thirty-five minutes is pretty good. It seemed that Christine broke a glass in the bathroom.....then spent logical time picking up the pieces and Christines' own special time assigning blame for the accident to Chloe. We go to Price Chopper. I ride a power cart. Christine walks with her cart. (Consequently, I wind-up the evening refreshed, and Christine spends Monday abed with kneezles.) We shop, play, cause trouble, for about two hours. A fun evening. (Though I am pointed NOT mentioning the 1.10 that I spent calling Christine from my cellphone when she abandoned me to re-trace our shopping-path in order to buy feminine-hygene products for Chloe. Nor will I write about the dastardly trick where Christine took advantage of my kindly male-nature by pretending to be upset with me on the way over. ----- Even though Christine has a profound history of flipping out for the most sketchy of reasons.)

Monday, August 28, 2006


Okay. The Blog is up for a whole day. I get one comment. And it's a NICE one. What good is a blog if it doesn't offend people?

I spent quite a bit of time on the telephone today. My mother can't get a voicemail from last Wed. It seems that her telephone company can't tell her what it was that she deleted. She's pissed because she thinks that I'm trying to get out of fixing it. I am. Mother wasn't supposed to catch on to that. My fault. I forgot that my step-sister Sue was visiting mother tonight. I set the telephone down, as usual, while mother was  complaining. Sue told on me. The rat.

Then Frankie called. He's my step-brother (and one of my closest friends-for-life). Frankie told me that there might be some kind of position working with his new company. I would like that. We work well together. (And poverty sucks.)
I went out for coffee with Christine tonight. Christine's scared. Christine 
goes back to college again tomorrow.  Hester, Christines' daughter, is having problems with her(Hesters') husband. Christine doesn't have quite enough money to build her new shed   artists studio. And one or the other 
of three sisters who used to be Christines' foster children is moving back in tomorrow. The sisters were just awful before. This time will be as bad 
as before, if not worse. Though the ever-hopeful Christine thinks/hopes/prays that things will be better this time.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

Richard Purdy Posted by Picasa

The Beginning

Okay. Christine. I've created the blog. Now what? I ought to write about things that happen to me. I guess. I can do that.

A little bit about me. I'm an ordinary guy. An ordinary guy with a couple of health problems who lives on a disability pension. That explains why I'm poor and have plenty of time to write a blog. That doesn't explain why my world is populated by weird characters doing odd things. I guess that I'm just fortunate to have so much interesting material to write about.

Like my friend Christopher. I should probably call him My Boy Christopher. (He likes me better than he likes anybody else. Even Christine, his adoptive mother.) Christopher has ADD, ADHD, Frontal Lobe Disorder, and a few other alphabetical syndromes that I can't remember...or something like that. Whatever he has, Christopher takes a whole bunch of pills every day for it. (I take a whole bunch of pills every day, too...but mine are for dull things like high blood pressure and diabetes. Except for the oxycodone and the oxycontin, and I don't take those anymore...even though they made a few people much less stressful to deal with.)

Anyway, what makes Christopher worthy of being the first entry in the blog is not his quirkiness. Christopher's the most normal person in his family. That's what makes me put Christopher first. Christopher's easier to write about.

Christopher's family, the Grant clan, will take thousands of blog entries to describe. And it will take a lot more entries to write about my family and my other friends.