Yelling in my basement

Thought I'd come on down to the basement tonight and open the door up and just yell some stuff. My neighbor to the north is at his girlfriend's house as always and those to the south are getting ready to move, so no one will hear me. Just shouting into a vacant room - That's what i feel like now writing on this blog thing. I mean, WTF, really. So I'm yelling. A friend of mine recently wrote some stuff on her blog and went to send it and it disappeared. Mine hasn't pulled that trick yet. The little 'save now' blue sticker flickers now and then. I suppose it's a placebo put there to cajole the writer into a false sense of security.

Let's see, what to write that no one will read. Guess I could write about rush limbaugh. I don't capitalize people's names whom (is it who or whom?) I don't respect. same went for that bush guy. I dunno. Well, just fuck limbaugh. Guess that'll take care of that topic. I'm giggling just thinking of the people I know who actually listen to this cretin. Ha! Take THAT! Yelling in the basement. I could go on and talk about some political shit that I think I know, but that just gets you into trouble. besides, I don't know any political shit. The people who do know about it don't really know either. I haven't had my spoon-fed feces for a couple of days from the TV so I'm pretty much behind on all the shit anyway.

What else?

Oh yeah, there's that 'architect' guy here in Seattle selling "architecture 5 cents" (my typewriter doesn't have a "cents" key. My old Royal Smith Corona had one - it was cool. Sounded like what you might buy as a condom if you thought you were going to get lucky back in high school.) Well, seems this guy ain't licensed and he's going out there selling himself as an architect. Architects have this kind of club (get this - the State has bought into it) and they have set up this elaborate system of testing and reporting and schooling and more testing and learning more and more elaborate crap heaped upon crap and you go through it until you're just about ready to give it up and then you pass - and you can call yourself (among many other things) an Architect. You get a little rubber stamp with a number on it (so the attorneys can look you up in case they might want to jam a big stick up your ass) and you stamp your drawings and you're an Architect. So this fuckstick isn't really an "architect" by club standards. Now I could start talking about ethics and double standards and why do I have to follow rules and others don't. So, ladadoo.......And the horse you came in on, pal! I thought I would write a letter to the editor and whine about it but thought better of it and decided to just yell in the basement.

What else?

Guess that's about it. I'm kinda hoarse.