The Old Beat up dude is looking really natty today.

I admire how he color coordinates.

The Beat Up Dude attempts to project Style. I am definitely rooting for him. Meanwhile:

The Smelly Irish dude just grabbed the table within smell distance. Not too bad but discernable. He’s chatting with Old Man Time who just hobbled in on his walker…There’s nothing I can say I actually admire about the two of them.

They don’t care how they look.

Old Man Time dresses like a decrepit bum while Smelly looks like he came off a graveyard shift at the aluminum extrusion plant. His foot’s in a caste with tubes running from the abscess (contributing to his odor), and I suspect Excessive Drinking over many many years may be a contributing factor to this illness/injury. He seems happy enough. Old Man Time seems to be just barely hanging on. Until you engage with him whereupon he too becomes alert and vibrant.

Old Man Time has a preoccupation. He sits and plays chess with himself. He sets up the board with the pieces. Not a full set-up. He sets up specific moves from a tattered book. He’s studying the great chess moves.

I might sit with him and ask him about the moves….

I might say, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re at the edge of death. Shouldn’t you be doing something…something…you know…something…what?

He’s right.

Why not practice your chess moves at the very edge of Death?

Or maybe play a game of Chess with Death.

The Smelly Irish dude plays Backgammon.

The Miser

A certain individual I’ve know since before the Great Flood (as in Noah) thinks I got plenty of dough stashed away because I’m a “Miser.”

The kind that always has a stash somewhere.

(see comment pages from my last blog)

I admit I’m the kind that stashes money for a rainy day. Nothing wrong with that. Look, it’s only good sense to have a hedge against hard times.

Look at the little buddies from your tree lined neighborhoods.

Nature’s provided Squirrels with the urge to save up for hard times.

Nothing wrong with that.

Maybe that’s why they’re still scurrying around the neighborhood.

They got a knack for survival.

They’re not wasting their time playing Backgammon with the Smell Irish dude.

I really am broke

Maybe not totally broke. I got a coffee can with some digits stuffed in there. But only a few. I’m not gonna blurt out how much because who talks about how much money they got? Here’s the rule:

The more money you got, the less you should talk about it.

I mean, people will come around they think you have money. Organizations (charitable and otherwise) will plague you. Old friends will hit you up. New friends will approach you with deals and sure bets. Before you know it, you’re hiding out down there in Cabo San Lucas or maybe even Singapore.

But certain people considering me a miezer should think about that.

I’m actually pretty damned broke.

So broke, I’m thinking of taking the leap

Just kidding

Not that leap.

A leap into taking a JOB.

Which I got. The one day gig I mentioned in my last blog. The survey job. 350 bucks for 8 hours of sitting on my ass, taking a survey. Includes breakfast, lunch, snacks, free parking. I’ll keep you posted.

Plus I just passed the Alcohol Beverage Server Exam.

That means I’m a booze sample server!

Or, I might land myself a job serving old drunks in a tired old bar!

That sounds like fun!