PriorBlog

The Beatles in Roslindale

I was in the Village Market, Roslindale’s local neighborhood “super” market last night to pick up two or three things for Ali Larijani, and as I was shopping the music over the PA was The Beatles “8 Days a Week.” I found myself singing along when nobody else was in the aisle. Then I caught two other people singing along too. At the cash register the woman in front of me was singing along too, so I mentioned to her and the kid behind the till how popular the song was. She was into the song, but the kid wasn’t. He was on a three year tour of duty at Village Market, and apparently the Beatles are played just about every night. I never noticed before. It’d be cool if Paul McCartney stopped by one night and played a special mini-concert in the produce area, as a way of saying thank you, but we all know that won’t happen. He’s too much of a big star now. That’s why I’m rooting for Heather Mills in the divorce. Or did that already happen? I don’t know.

Roger Clemens

I am kind of torn on the Roger Clemens thing. To me he is almost too good of an arch-villain. It’s sort of like in Superman II, when the bad guys were so bad it made the storyline all that much better. There are a lot of things I really hate about Clemens, but ever since he threw that shard of bat at Piazza in the 2000 World Series, erasing any doubt in my mind as to whether he was in fact the son of Satan, I have to admit I’ve kind of enjoyed his brilliance. As much as I think it is an interesting development though, my baseball sense tells me that the Yankees need a lot more than one starting pitcher.

I haven’t posted anything for a while because I have been too stressed out over the goings on (or the lack of goings on) about my bike being smashed at the workplace, and management’s less than sympathetic (antipathetic actually) response to it.  My sense is that the guy in charge of handling the insurance paperwork is going to present a case in which he is not really at fault (he’s pushing the line of ‘nobody heard it happen here’ as if, the bike mysteriously exited the building on its own, smashed itself up, and then returned to its position in the back of the mailroom.  It’s the bike’s fault really, when you think about it.  Of course, the real truth is, he’s not blaming the bike as much as he is suggesting that without a witness, the claim is worthless, because there is no proof that the damage occured in the mailroom.  But this also suggests that I lied about what happened.  That I put my bike back there in ruined condition, and then lied about what happened to take advantage of him.  Needless to say, I find this infuriating.  I’ve worked here for almost five years.  If I was a disreputable person, they should have had the good sense to fire me years ago.  Obviously they didn’t think that way until somebody ruined my bike.  As soon as a few bucks are involved, they come down with a case of amnesia when it comes to my integrity and treat me like a convicted felon.  I ask you, what sort of person treats others this way?  It’s beginning to dawn on me, that all of these words are within parenthesis, and I am so deep inside, that I don’t know how to get back to the surface.  This is indicative of the overall anger I feel over this situation, the inability to get out of a mode of thinking in which I constantly return to the notion of “I have been hurt,” I have been wronged.”  I don’t like this orientation, but I can’t shake it.  In some ways it is illuminating, because I know for other people in this awful world, what I am feeling is only the tip of the iceberg.  It’s not like I’ve had my family blown to bits by a suicide bomber, or cluster bombs.  Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Prior.  Very true.  But I have seen just brief glimpse of the face of evil, and I know exactly what he looks like.  We’ll return to the usual programming shortly.