OUR PINE BOX: THE ANTIBABYLON DAYDREAM HOG COMPOUND: Horrible people from Florida

Okay, here's a few more photos, including the colors, Mom, so that you can check 'em out. I'd write more, but I'm a busy, busy man. And by "busy," I mean "lazy." I'm laying that fake wood stuff in our condo. I don't know man, it's a new thing for me... It's kinda inexpensive, a buck and some a foot, and kinda faster to put in, but it's more or less compressed paper, with a super hard finish on it. The tongues and grooves are very fragile, (it being... ya know...PAPER), so you have to make sure not to look at it too hard while you're installing it, or letting your hair brush it or something, which could be disastrous. The top face of it seems to be pretty tough though. We'll see. And help us all if you get it wet, because they say if it gets the slightest amoung of moisture on it it actually explodes and then bursts into flame.

We'll see.

The guy who sold it to us was a nightmare too. He was one of those people who really needs you to like him, so he makes dumb jokes. The more you recoil in horror, the more need he feels to connect, so the closer he gets, the louder and the "funnier," according to him. It finally got quite uncomfortable with this guy. He kept trying to be funny, and wasn't, and bragging about stupid things, and then bragging about how they all drink after work, and on and on. Pretty much Andy from the office. How clever. It seems I meet some decent people here, but in addition, I keep meeting some really horrible people here too. Yesterday at the gym, the mother and son, who, when not debating whether the military was meeting it's recruitment goals to continually replace those dying in Iraq, were discussing (rather loudly) how their family is in a big fight right now because some of them say there's no such thing as hell, and that "my god would never be so mean," and others disagree and thought it was blasphemous, and all are in a tizzy about their afterlives, as though they have some say on the subject. It would be kinda cute if they were in a sandbox and they were six. And I was on the monkey bars. Where I belong. Because I'm a monkey, according to a Baptist I once knew, because I think I'm descended from 'em. Ah, dear. I really am kinda monkey like though. I really am. Mostly in my oral hygeine, but also in my taste in playground equipment. Oh yeah. Apparently someone in their family is also a judge, which is a big religious quandary for them and the extended family, because it says in the Bible "Judge not..." etc. Yes, they were SERIOUSLY interpreting that passage to mean this guy should not hold the OCCUPATION of judge. Imagine that, a whole family of geniuses. Must run in the blood.

(Editor's note: while typing this, Ruth just came in and recounted a story, unsolicited, about a guy she saw yesterday who had his whole back window done in a confederate flag that said in huge letters: "You just don't get it! It's not about you, it's about the GOVERNMENT!" whatever that means. Anyway, it proves my point about this place being an evil circus...)

Finally, Ma and Son Hell were overwhelmed by my (somewhat diabolical) psychic mind control, and left me, as I psychically (that is SO not spelled that way) instructed them, to go very very far from me, and then to really shake 'em up I sent 'em to temple to face east and worship mother earth. When they left to writhe in their spiritual agony, they were immediately, as though it were scripted, replaced by their polar opposite, a guy who was way too NOT uptight. This guy had to start spouting off his racism ("I'm from Romulus Michigan. Up there I gotta crawl over 9 black ones to get to one white one. Down here, they got tail hoof-in-hand..." and that's just the beginning of what he got spouting off about... Don't ask me what that means, either. I didn't ask, I was too busy sticking sharpened sticks in my ears. Another nugget was, like everything he said, unsolicited: "I gotta get me some new shorts man. These ones here make me look like some kinda QUEER!") At that point, I dove through a plate glass window screaming, then walked to the pool to check out what that was like. Once there, I found my racist workout buddy had followed me "hey man. I heard you talkin' on the phone earlier. You some kinda rocker or somethin?" I repsonded by going to the other end of the pool and there found an equally talkative dude who apparently is going overseas (he can't remember what country, but it's one of the northern ones) to do cage fighting. At that, I looked for a plate glass window to dive through, and exited the pool.

Maybe Florida is a place for everyone to migrate to from around the country who just didn't get enough attention as children.

But then dig me, posting my tribulations and criticisms for the world to pore over on this here blog. Ironic, huh? Let me get back to my purpose then, posting the colors of your condo, Phyllis, so that you can decide if they look okay. And by the way, Mom, I got plenty of attention as a kid. I mostly put this blog up for you and the rest of our people in case you're super bored you can see that we are too, so much so that I post complaining about people that sell us flooring, and then not feel so bad.

I spend 24 hours a day with Ruth, in bliss, then walk outside for 5 minutes and realize the whole world is populated by the inane and insane. Ruth, where are you?

On to the photos! Vamoush!

(Edior's note: The above is pure fiction. In reality, everyone in Florida is both handsome and popular.)