Wednesday 16 August

Around noon.

Sitting at my favorite table at the office.

Doing nothing.

Sano’s serving

Slow crowd.

Nobody in here I know…except, the boot tapping woman. Same loud tapping boots. Music’s way up so no big deal. I’d welcome her tapping on a day like today. My brains not working. That’s a good thing normally.

Thing is, I got no mojo today for blogging. My brain’s telling me I’m wasting my time. I am wasting my time.

Well, I’ll just sit here with a busted brain. Let my brain drift….

Drift to a boat I used to own.

Wooden Boat. Grand Banks. Guy owned it before me murdered a guy and spent 30 years in prison. Got out. Bought the boat. Sat on it. Felt the cool breezes off the sausalito hills. Gazed out at the cormorants gathering on Richardson’s bay. Fed the sea gulls. Time went by and the boat Engine died. He gifted me his boat. I sold it cheap to a guy who got the engine going.

Boat’s still floating I hear.

Drift to a dude I used to work for.

He’s building Erect Dicks now. That’s his creative outlet. For money he’s slinging junk. I’m slinging booze. Wasting my dwindling life. Maybe he’ll pull himself out of his morase. I’m gonna hang with my morase for a while.

Drift over to the Gloomy Boomer’s bar. Where am I? I’m around someplace. I went to the bathroom, I think. That’s my bag of tricks on the floor there…

People keep calling me wanting to buy Scruffy.

Craigslist people.

Flakes.

They’ll never buy Scruffy.

Me and Scruffy, my penance for selling the Grand Banks…

The Bridge of Scruffy. Where am I?

Old Salt’s right where he ought to be.

I’ll show up sooner or later.

For now I’m just sitting here at the office.

This old man’s at the table to my right. Got that silver handled cane. If that was my cane I’d whack somebody. Give em a knocker send them to the pavement. Hell, I could grab that cane and give him a whack. He keeps coughing. I don’t mind a man coughing but he keeps coughing. Staring at his phone. Coughing. Don’t know how old he is. Could be younger than me. Shit. I’ll be seventy in a week. This Old Man could be younger than me. I oughta grab that cane with the fancy silver handle and give him a whack…just for the hell of it.

My Brain’s Missing

That’s my problem today. I feel like my brain’s missing. When I feel this way…I get mad…sometimes I get mad. I think evil thoughts. Like beating up this old man to my right. He’s not nice but that’s no reason to beat him up. I’m right where I ought a be, sitting here all alone and blogging evil thoughts instead of actually committing evil…

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. I feel like my brain’s missing.

Himmler’s Brain

I feel like my brain is missing.

Himmler’s brain is actually missing.

Himmler in 1945.

Himmler’s the guy who murdered 11 million jews. Unless you’re under forty you already know this. Himmler committed suicide while awaiting interrogation in an Allied Internment camp.

Himmler’s corpse after his suicide by cyanide poisoning, May 1945.

Anyway, they saw he’s dead so they called in the doctors and did an autopsy. And because he’s such a big shot they removed his brain and flew it to London where Scientists studied it to determine the source of his Evil…

That’s right, the source of his evil

They poked his brain with sticks and electrodes and clips or whatever they use and stared at screens with dials and shit. I don’t know. They did what they did. The had Himmler’s brain. No any old do nothing pip squeek normal shit head do-badder’s brain. They had the Big Kahoona Evil Doer’s brain.

THEY NEEDED TO FIND THE SOURCE OF HIS EVIL!!!!

Then, what do you know. They lost his brain.

They lost Himmler’s brain???

How could they lose Himmler’s brain?

They stuck it in a jar and put it on a shelf in some storage room somewhere and who knows if it’s sitting there to this day.

A specimen.

You stick it in a jar, put it on a shelf. No big deal.

Here’s a cat head

You can buy this cat head specimen for a hundred and eighty bucks. Stick it on your coffee table. Impress your sick friends.

I wonder what Himmler’s Brain in a specimen jar is worth?

They lost Himmler’s Brain.

You know what I think?

I think some sicko big shot scientist has Himmler’s Brain in his possession.

He snagged it.

Has it on his coffee table.

Tells his equally sicko big shot friends.

“Check out Himmler’s Brain….nice, eh?”