Sometimes you luck out in life…

My own personal swoosh

Turns out I got my own personal swoosh. It aint a NIke Swoosh. (See my last post) It’s what’s left over from my company logos.

You could say it’s an inverted Nike Swoosh. But not exactly. No, the more I look at it with my Old Dude eyes, I see it’s nowhere near like a Nike Swoosh. My Swoosh is elongated.

Like Bull horns.

Like a Bull attacking the Matador.

The Fate of the Bull

Bull’s fighting for his life, see. The odds are stacked against him. Matador’s smart; Bull’s dumb. Bull’s intellect and range of possibilities in life are extremely limited. Kind of like me. And yet, the Bull’s got determination. His soul is pure. He senses the doom that awaits him. Best to show what he’s made of. Fight like hell and maybe get lucky and gore the dude in tights. Go down with a bit of dignity. People flock to a bullfight to watch the Bullfighter kill the Bull. I would rather see the Bull kill the Bullfighter. Let the Matador dress up in his silly tights and strut out there like a big shot macho dude and I will pay good money to watch the Bull Trample his ass…

So there you have it.

The Gloomy Boomer Swoosh.

A Bull goring a Matador.

Once in a great while the Bull wins. He never really wins. He’ll be slaughtered after the show. But once in a great while he gets even.

I would love to just get even once or twice before I cash in my chips.

The Retro Van didn’t work out

This van was a gift from a dear friend. He had a stroke and could no longer drive. So he gave me his van. A van he owned since it was brand new. I know how much he loved his van. I was touched he wanted me to have it. So I went down to see the van and my friend took me for a test ride. Turns out he could still drive. Maybe he’s not supposed to drive on account of he had this major Stroke. But he’s not the kind of guy who lives strictly by the rules. So we went for a ride with my friend behind the wheel. We drove all over San Jose. Freeways. Sidestreets. Boulevards. He’s working the traffic like a pro. All the while I’m thinking, this is good. Stroke dude’s driving me around. He can’t talk but he can drive like hell. Nobody can beat his ass! He could win the god damned Indie 500 he’s so good. In fact, he’s so good he decides he wants to keep the Retro Van.

I’m thinking, all power to you, my friend.

Your soul is pure!

Kill the Matador.

Anyway, it was gonna be dicey me camping in the Retro Van. I mean, I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Some old dude behind the wheel of a rusty Retro Van. Cops and neighbors would be eyeballing me for sure. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate my Friend’s offer. I do. I also appreciate him reneging on the offer. If I was him I’d keep the Van, too. Hold on to the things you can still do in life. Hold on til they pry the keys out of your hand. Then tell them to fuck off.

Anyway, everything worked out in the end.

I found this minivan.

It’s a Toyota, like the Prius. These model’s drive forever. This one’s called the Symphony Edition. Cuz it comes with a JBL stereo with 8 speakers. Nice! I can cruz around with the good tunes and nobody’s gonna know I’m in there. This Toyota is definitely Stealth Van material.

I’ll play some Beethoven while I’m driving around. Or maybe some Jimi Hendrix. All along the watchtower. That’s more my style.