How the manic mind composes, or, here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?

I can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I wrote this article last. I can’t remember what I wrote about – unless that was the week of the crappy Patriots whine-fest. Oops.

Three weeks and so much has changed in my life – whatever. I’m still buried at work, running to catch my own ass.

I still have a wife – of five years now, an ex-wife – not long enough gone, two kids – I wish they lived here all year ‘round, two parents – still married after 37 years – not bad, three dogs – don’t even get me started, three cars – ditto, four jobs “hello, this is stress planet, how many we help you?” and a partridge in a frickin’ pear tree.

And oh yeah, I know what’s in my wallet, thanks.

I equate my life in its stages to movie actors and their memorable roles and/or scenes. While I’m at work, you might say I’m like Denis Leary gacked out of his mind in the middle of an insane rant. That isn’t my life, though – that’s just my attitude in the office.

My life and its stages seem so much more dramatic to me. For instance, for the longest time I thought I was Ferris Bueller, having fun trying to become Abe Froman (the Sausage King of Chicago). It turns out I’m more like Chef from Apocalypse Now, and I was just told why they sit on their helmets in the helicopter. If you’ve seen the movie, you remember that scene for sure. If not, I probably list you – and that’s ok Martha.

Now before you start to roll your eyes and think that I’m going to kick the crap out of myself with some semi-witty banter of self-deprecation again, fear not! While it’s alright to occasionally poke a little fun at myself, I get so much more enjoyment playing the literal sniper at the top of the tower in Austin, Texas –picking out targets and lettin’ em rip. Guess I’m throwing out the PC handbook for this week – better grab onto something.

There’s nothing like pod-people season – which, if you want to get technical, is every season except between Memorial Day and Labor Day. That’s when the majority of the who’s who of the city and the political hangers-on dash off to Cape Cod. Hey I could have said the political prostitutes, but I’ll save that for another issue down the line.

If I had my way, every issue I would go to work ripping apart a whole gaggle of Neanderthals that just run rampant and practically unchecked in this city every day.

Oh sure, every few issues I get to dole out a little dose of reality and in the process I get to nail someone with a zinger or a humorous observation, but we don’t get down to the nitty-gritty every week now, do we.

Oh what the hell, let’s nibble off a little bit.

People who walk on the nice new islands – go back to the country you came from, where if you jaywalked like that in the city, you’d be flattened like a pancake.

Department heads who take themselves way too seriously – get a grip on reality and try getting a job where you’re on commission and you might actually have to have something more than a dishrag of a personality – good luck with that.

Former politicians who can’t stand not having power – please stay former and follow the advice given to the hacks – see previous example and try not to screw it up like they will.

Political buffoons who smell blood in the water – what comes around, goes around – you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Dunkin’ Donuts franchise holders – please, for God’s sake, hire at least one person who speaks fluent

English for every single shift – just one, please.

Hockey parents who think their Bobby is the next Orr – stay home if you can’t act like an adult – just get over yourself – parents fighting other parents is stupid.

The always-on ED commercials at all times of the day – look, if I wanted to watch Showtime or Cinemax, I’ll change the channel myself.

And what the hell is up with John Kerry and windsurfing – even his hobby depends on which way the wind blows? Thank you, I’m here in the lounge all week.