Five totally boring videos that only a dog lover would enjoy. Taco is wearing one of the two reversible plaid jackets kindly donated by one of my supporters. That blue, puffy jacket on Wiley is also from a fan…either of myself or of Canis familiaris (maybe both); I’m not really sure because it’s a mystery who delivered it. Notice it fits okay and looks great on her, but definitely the next size up would be better. There are four snaps that secure the garment, but I can only join the back two, because size issue. And it won’t fit Taco at all, due to his chunky brisket and shoulders: he’s a hunk-a dachshund/terrier bundle of doggie love! I wanted to show how cute they look when they poop, but I fear camera shyness on their part, because they didn’t go number one at all!
Oh, and if you’re concerned about retaliation from my houseless friend Deek or his pals, please know that I ALWAYS keep a small canister of pepper spray in a pocket, and ALWAYS bring my smartphone with me, because it has that video of our verbal contract that I now own the pups in exchange for $300. Which I’ll gladly show to anyone who approaches with the question: “Did you steal Deek’s dogs?” To see for yourself, you may view the scenario of that transaction by clicking here.
While you’re at it, check out the cute sweaters some gracious donor sent me in late December:
URGENT! TRULY URGENT! The dogs won’t eat ANYthing! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM
SOMETHING URGENT has come up: THE DOGS REFUSE TO EAT ANYTHING, AT ALL, INCLUDING ROTISSERIE CHICKEN!
They continue to refuse the kibble and/or canned gravy-style Pedigree dog food (as well as these chicken-chew treats), so this makes the third day in a row I’ve blown twenty dollars on rotisserie fowl. At first, I pulled the white meat off the bone in small pieces, and mixed a considerable amount with some other canned food that Deek left me: “Diamond Naturals Chicken Dinner”…not chunky at all, just firmly packed, gray-brown mush. No success in THAT department; the mashed-in chicken pieces failed to entice!
So I then prepared a bowl each of nothing BUT roasted bird, just as I’ve done yesterday and the day before…and which they went nuts over. To my disappointment and worry, they refused to touch that, either! I have no idea what to do now, and this is becoming a financial disaster. And to make things worse, Deek showed up right in the middle of my preparing their meal. I hollered at him through the window, where he stood across Market Street, shopping cart in hand:
“Wait ten minutes, I’m feeding them!”
But he didn’t say okay, and said it will only take a minute, and he’ll wait for me by the bus stop. So I speedily finished mixing the mush with the white meat, set down the two bowls and exited. I really did NOT want to leave the brindlekin alone during feeding, as they might fight over the chicken, or Wiley would gobble up all of Taco’s portion. But I stepped out anyway and, lo and behold, there was a humongous Bluetooth speaker hogging up more than half of Deek’s shopping cart and sticking out almost a foot above the top…behind which stood the Bodhisattva of Disruption and Chaos Himself.
“I’m really hurtin’ Zeke, could you PLEASE give me a little more money to feed myself?” he begged, just like any other meth freak would, who just blew a HUGE wad of cash the day before, on something frivolous…like a stupid electronic device that he’d sell for another Tina fix in a day or two from now. (I never believed he lost any of his devices, or they were stolen, as he’d always claim. In fact, I’m both surprised and delighted that he’s held onto the dogs long enough for me to take them in permanently.)
Of course I severely reprimanded him for wasting the $300 I just gave him yesterday, instead of spending at least SOME of it on the doggies, in order to help me with their expenses. Then I paused to examine the small sticker on the speaker’s top edge:
“A hundred ninety-nine dollars, eh?”
“No, I got it for less,” he retorted. I was about to explode in fumes of anger, but tamped it down.
“It doesn’t MATTER what you spent, Deek!” I reprimanded. “You are responsible for using that money for more important things, like FEEDING yourself. It’s OUTRAGEOUS you’ve come back so soon after I just gave you a WHOPPING three hundred bucks!”
Then I explained how both Wiley & Taco have completely lost their appetite, and I just spent $60 on roasted chicken for them, three days in a row. And that MY share of the stimulus is supposed to go to THEM, not him!”
“Oh, they’ll be alright,” he blithely brushed it off. “PLEASE, I need some cash to eat. I’m very hungry now, Zeke.”
So I caved in a little, “How much do you want?”
He hesitated to answer, so I blurted: “Ten dollars?’
Deek looked shocked, as if I had the nerve to offer him such a pittance. “I was thinking more like sixty dollars.” He had the gall to add: “You have the money.”
Upon his declarng that specific sum, I parried: “Oh, you’re asking for an advance on this Saturday’s allowance. Well, I don’t know if I have that kinda money upstairs, and I’ll have to march over to the bank to withdraw it, but I’m right in the middle of dealing with your dog’s eating problems, which have me worried like hell!”
“I’ll never ask you again, Zeke, I promise!” he swore. “Really, I won’t ever ask you for any more money, never again!”
“Well I don’t believe you, Deek, but we’ll see, now won’t we?” I riposted. “You’re squeezing money out of me that I need for the dogs, now that they are in my charge. You can NOT do this ever again, Deek!”
“I promise I won’t, ever again!” he perpetuated what I know is a blatant lie. But after this round of wallet-sucking ploys, I really WON’T be able to cough up any more moolah. So be it; I am definitely more than capable of saying NO and walking away. I know, because I’ve done it before to Deek, at least several times in the past two years.
So I told him hold on, I’ll see if I have that amount, I’ll be right back. Knowing full well of course, that I did NOT have three Jacksons on hand, but FOUR one-hundred-dollar smackaroonies. “I see where this is going,” I thought in frustration as I scurried back up to my hovel, to discover that neither Taco nor Wiley had taken even a single nosh of their white-meat-studded bowl of mush, before grabbing a Bennie and exiting the building once more.
Before handing the bill to him, I admonished: “You know when I hollered back at you to wait ten minutes, ’cause I’m feeding the dogs? You could’ve easily said okay and waited. If I don’t watch Wiley, she’ll scarf up Taco’s meal too. Now I have to go back upstairs and feed one of the dogs all over again.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear you say that,” he replied. But I know better…he DID hear me say that, because he yelled in reply to my plea for him to wait: “This’ll just take a minute!”
He also mentioned how he’s doing everything to better himself (ha, as if a $199 Bluetooth speaker is a “help”). I replied that yeah, you got a tent now (which he told me yesterday, for forty dollars, and I pointed out tents are being handed out for free to the homeless, he doesn’t need to spend any money on that.) His reply?
“My tent was stolen this morning.” Of course…and his speaker will be “stolen” too, soon enough. So I declared once again:
“You can get another one, Deek. They’re handing them out for free, just ask Boulevard Joe, he’ll tell you where to get one.” Then I pointed out the Benjamin now in his hand:
“I didn’t have sixty dollars, just this hundred dollar bill, so you get NO more money for the rest of the month, I can’t AFFORD to do this any more, now that Taco & Wiley are in my care, and you’re no longer covering ANY of their expenses yourself.”
It was time for him to depart, and for me to return hovel and deal with the present doggie crisis. But before we parted ways, he said, “Thank you, I love you Zeke!” and we exchanged fist bumps. But then I summoned him to hold on, with a tug at his sleeve…so he stopped and turned to face me. I spoke these final words for this, our latest rendezvous:
“No matter what you do or don’t do, God will protect you, and turn your life around in an amazing direction. Deek. I just can’t be the one to provide you with any more cash…short of a miracle that is. Which COULD happen, but not today.”
He chose not to reply with so much as even a “thanks” or “goodbye;” instead he flashed me a broad smile, then turned away to push his shopping cart to whatever his next destiny will be. But there is an interesting topic he ALSO brought up amid our negotiations, which is this:
“There are riots,” he declared, “and revolutions going on in Washington…they wanna assassinate the president.”
“Well, they SHOULD assassinate him,” I blurted out, then mused aloud: “I’m so wrapped up in my writing and tending to your doggies, I haven’t been paying attention to the news, not ANY news, for at least two weeks now. But I’m gonna check it out later today.”
What I most appreciate (with a bit of hindsight) is that Deek learned of this by listening to the radio! A milestone I’d say, as he’s beginning to stay informed about current events now and then, instead of playing rap music 24/7. However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted. For now that I’ve caught up with the news, the issue appears to be all about pro-Trump butt lickers storming the capitol, CLAIMING that the left threatens their Commander-in-Cheat with death threats. Which clearly is NOT the case. So much like the dim-bulb, christo-fascist right wingers to scapegoat the noble opposition by blaming them for their OWN sins!
Maybe I should just not worry, and stop offering them food till they’re SO hungry they’ll eat anything? Neither pup looks the least bit distressed, sad or in any other negative mood. In fact, they’re relaxing here on the bedding, in what appears to be appreciative repose, and respite from the cold. (Jeez, we’ve had so many chilly days and nights for WEEKS now, and still not a break in sight!) They remain cheerful and sweet as ever. I’ve stashed the remaining half of the chicken in the fridge, along with the mound of scraps I placed in their bowls, which they refused to touched, now sealed in a Ziploc freezer bag.
But I refuse to end this report without analyzing the latest scenario from the perspective of bodhisattva intrigue:
This is the latest scene of Act #whatever, that Deek is playing out for my benefit. Because he’s CREATING a wonderful story that will gain me fame and vast wealth, by typing it out and sharing it with the world via WordPress, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter. And this is just the latest twist in the plot. Oh what drama! The doggies now refuse to eat, and meth-head Deek is preying on my meager finances! Woo-hoo!
I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 6:46 PM
Okay, I just purchased the doggies from Deek (video link towards the end of this email). As I was waiting for the police to get here, more than a half hour creeped by with him screaming “I want my dogs! I want my dogs!” from across Market Street. He saw me once or twice from the window, which didn’t help any. I had called 911 back, to arrange they call to my window, or make a little siren noise to alert me…because my landline phone has been dead since yesterday, and I can only use my smartphone to make 911 calls. How ironic, that I was incapacitated in that way, just in a moment of emergency, considering the VERY rare moments I even use my phone!
Dieter had stepped inside, with my assistance because pushing a wheelchair. I told him about the terrible turn of events with Deek. So warned him to play things dumb should he run into him. And that, since the gendarmes are taking SO long to show up, maybe he could be my bodyguard…which I’ll also need anyway, while walking the pooches. He cracked up as he slowly hobbled up the stairs, with another resident carrying the wheelchair up to his fourth-floor SRO. And said: “Oh, sorry, I’m not good at that these days!”
A few minutes later (and I still heard his painfully-slogging ascent to the second floor) I called 911 back, and asked if I could return to my hovel to tend to the doggies. (I had initially called 911 to explain how my emergency call was about Deek’s dogs, how he’s abusing them but now wants them back, which I do NOT have the heart to do, for obvious reasons. I had also explained that I was helping take care of them through the cold and rainy weather, and everything seemed hunky-dory between us. But he’s a meth freak, thus unpredictable, and today is a whopper, and I’m afraid he may be violent towards me, and wind up killing the dogs through severe neglect and abuse!)
They understood my land line is down, and my smartphone has no cell service, so agreed to either call up to my window, or turn on the siren for a few seconds, once they arrive. The four times I called 911, they were all quite nice and professional…except one who just shunted me over to the police department, where no one answered the phone. I guess because of all the political brouhaha now going on with the right-wing riots in D.C….activists and marches, etc. Adding to the difficulty with keeping a line open to 911 is they couldn’t use my now-dead land line number, nor could call me back via my non-cell-service smartphone!
So I then climbed back up the stairs, where the manager Kevin was speaking with Dieter. I interrupted to tell Dieter the cops were finally on their way. Then I looked towards the manager, and said should I tell Kevin?
“Not necessary,” he replied, “I already told him.”
Well, Kevin was totally nonplussed when I explained how I’ve been helping Deek with the doggies through the cold weather and rains, but I’ve never seen him act so crazy as he is today. That I don’t want to return the pups to him, because he’s an animal abuser, and they’ll probably die. And they’re such sweet pups, I added.
“They aren’t to me!” quipped Kevin, but I just waved it away by telling him that was because he was thump-thumping a trash bin down the stairs when we stepped out and into the hallway…that they’re actually very quiet! I also mentioned I’ll probably be moving soon in two or three months, because I have a very lucrative publishing contract in the works. Which, BTW, is called “Brindlekin Tales” and is all about my adventures with Deek and the doggies. (I know, Tara, I’m really hedging my bets to a dangerous extent here, but what the hey, I believe in my destiny!)
I also told him to feel free to call 911 over Deek, whenever you deem it necessary, but I think he has enough sense to stay off this side of the street…and I’ll do my best to keep him at bay.
Upon returning hovel (finally! I was starving ’cause Deek’s drama disrupted everything, so I hadn’t had even breakfast yet and it was well after three o’clock) I heard My Nutty Bodhisattva screeching from the other side of reality:
“C’mon down, let’s strike a deal!”
Turned out he was willing to give up the dogs for $300. Interesting, I thought, that he didn’t say four hundred, per his original price. Though since I coughed up an extra hundred for him this morning, I guess he was respecting that as part of the four hundred. (A hint, mind you, that this is all an act put on by a bodhisattva par excellence…as it strikes me that a REAL tweaker would insist on the original four hundred!)
Anyway, I told him I need a witness, and it has to be Boulevard Joe. Well, he kicked up a stink and refused. So I said how about a video recording our agreement? He said no to that, too, so I said well then, you’re not gonna get the money, and started to walk away. But he finally caved in…so I returned hovel where the sweet little brindlekin were happily minding their own business, relaxing on my bed as usual. What patient canine souls! They of course greeted me with a quizzical stare that said: “What on earth is going on, Zeke?” I pet them both and told them to be patient awhile longer, I’ll be back really soon.
The best I could get regarding a solid contract, is this video which I uploaded only moments ago:
And here is a brief prequel I shot on the sly, taken just moments before he agreed to be recorded, and eleven minutes before the contract was made firm:
Talk about a drama queen…or speaking from the bodhisattva trickster perspective, a “melodrama” queen! He looks quite the wreck, BTW. But knowing this is just one of his finest Jewish Homeless Princess scenarios he’s ever performed here in the Castro (and maybe anywhere else), I am not particularly stressed out over any further nonsense from his corner.
Of course, after the deal was done, he ranted on about how I’m probably a pervert letting the dogs lick me all over my body, and that he’s heard people say all sorts of bad things about me, and how he has a lot of his buddies watching me. I retorted that I have enemies who badmouth me all the time, and I’m sorry he’s chosen to stand on the wrong side of Castro history, and that he wouldn’t believe how many of MY comrades are watching HIM! I was not the least perturbed by his ugly accusations, because I knew it was yet another challenge from My Cajun Bodhisattva, of how well or not I could handle my temper. Indeed, I handled it very well, wouldn’t you say?
Upon returning to my room, I dialed 911 once more, to cancel my emergency, explaining to them we had struck a deal with a three-hundred dollar trade, and I have it all on video, and that should he ever harass and threaten me again, I’ll sic the cops after him. Oh, yeah, I DID pull my “I-have-your-social-security-number-and-with-that-could-really-mess-up-your-life” card, as well as threaten to report him as a deadbeat dad to Louisiana authorities, and I know where to find him. He simply shrugged his shoulders, said he’s been through worse.
PS: I really needed that $300 to help the doggies out, especially with their surprise appetite loss. Why is this happening all at once? Deek’s insanity, dogs stopped eating, total wipeout of my stimulus money in less than 24 hours (plus an extra $100 from my slim Social Security budget), and dead land line when I need to call 911? Methinks the bodhisattva forces are working overtime! My faith remains strong, puppy love is in my heart, always.
Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Tara Roosevelt To: Zeke Krahlin Date: January 7, 2021 7:51 PM
However, I fear he’s listening to SF’s own, right-wing talk show station, KGO AM, and getting the facts all twisted.
Yep, right-wing radio and TV is going wild with the disinfo. The mobs were”Antifa.” They were “hired by Democrats.” It was all “staged.” The bit about assassinating the president is rich; they’re carrying Trump flags, Confederate flags, one of them was photographed wearing a an Auschwitz t-shirt. The irony is that they were there trying to halt the electoral college certification; they did stop it, but only for a few hours. When Congress resumed, which they did, several Repukes who were going to vote to hold things up had suddenly changed their minds. So the effect was that the certification happened much more smoothly and expeditiously than it would have if not for the riots. Meanwhile, Trump and Pence are now mortal enemies. Trump goes out with a bang AND a whimper.
Re: I HAD TO CALL 911 ON DEEK From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: January 7, 2021 8:43 PM
Oh, Jesus. Interesting to actually lay eyes on him.
Not his best moment, by a long shot.
He looks to be in fairly dire shape. Not that I have much basis for comparison. But he seems shaky, unstable. How I hope he just lets you keep the doggies in peace.
He usually looks MUCH better than he does today. Oh, he’ll let me keep the doggies in peace…after all I have my bodyguards who work the Koheba Smoke Shop to keep him off my block. The manager of my building also knows about it now, and he may have some neighborhood clout. And, once my New Year’s Parody gets distributed tomorrow in the Duboce Triangle News, a lot more locals will check out my Brindlekin Tales, and learn about my situation with Deek and the doggies. Because in the introduction to my piece, is included a link to the Brindlekin section of my WordPress blog! Also, I’ve uploaded those two videos to Youtube, as well as shared ’em on Facebook and Twitter. One or both just MAY go viral!
I just uploaded my latest Brindlekin chapter (18) which is called “The Doggies are Now Mine!” And it’s all about today’s disgusting fiasco, and includes those two videos towards the bottom of that tale.
Are they eating yet???????
Hardly. Wiley accepted a small serving of chicken, but Taco still turns down everything. Not sure if he’s even drinking water, but I’m watching. Wiley has been drinking. Oh, and Taco threw up, but it looked pretty harmless, just clear fluid and two tiny bits of chicken. He also had diarrhea when he pooped this afternoon. Yet, they remain cheerful and active as ever, play-fighting and being affection. They continue to look sparkly, healthy and joyful. I give them plenty of hugs and scritches, and they don’t act especially needy to receive them…just the usual loving rapport. It may very well be lack of exercise killing their appetite, which is known to happen in dogs. So I really have no choice but to get them to a safe area tomorrow, where they can run about to the point of happy exhaustion. Then we’ll see if their appetite (hopefull) picks up. But this may also be their estrangement from Deek, even though they don’t seem the least bit worried or sad. Dogs get very attached to their owners, even the abusive ones.
GOOD NEWS: My GoFundMe first withdrawal just arrived in the sum of $387.20. I will open a second account now, and transfer that entire amount to it, minus the $60 spent on three roast chicken orders, because I am reimbursing myself for a doggie expense. My GFM amount is only $400, so only $13 left to spend, beyond what I’ve aleady withdrawn. Hopefully, once the Duboce Triangle News publishes my tale with the link to my Brindlekin Tales page, many locals will check it out, and they’ll see my GoFundme appeal right there on top! And more donations will come rolling in.
CONCLUSION: This is all an amazing adventure, which Deek has assisted in creating in a MAJOR way. He is no threat, Tara…he’s one of my brilliant guardians who gladly makes personal sacrifices in order to turn me into a hero. And I believe there are many other bodhisattvas here in the Castro, who know all about me, and ready to catapult me to fame. If I’m deluded, this is the most incredible delusion one could ever have! Sleep well, my most kind and intelligent ally…I truly wish that for you!
Re: [MCN-Announce]- Doggie GoFundMe account is up and running…and, it’s going to the dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin MCN To: Announce MCN Date: 2020-12-19 10:18 PM
On Fri, 18 Dec 2020 20:41:01 -0800 Roseanne Kaplan posted:
I just looked at your Go FUnd Me and notice that the dogs are both short -hairs. I wonder if they have winter coats to wear? This is an awful time of year for a short hair dog.
Not just the short hair, but they have little bodies. Deek, my homeless friend who owns the pooches, brings them over to stay with me on particularly cold and rainy spells. I’ve also received four lovely doggie coats that donors have kindly sent me, and they fit quite well. However, they do not protect their underbellies which are susceptible to the cold, since they have no fur on that part. (They’re still better than nothing, of course…and are great for the cool, not cold, weather.) So I’m looking into doggie sweaters, to see if that will be a better option. There’s already one hooded sweater on my wish list, as a top priority request.)
But I also give Deek a doggie blanket to help with this. They’re actually kids sleeping bags that are less expensive (around $20 each) and warmer than doggie blankets…I have received two so far, from donors, though I will need a regular supply, since they sometimes get stolen from his cart when he’s not looking or maybe just stepped into a shop to pick up some food…or when he’s sound asleep with the doggies on warmer nights when they don’t need the blanket, so it’s stashed in the cart, thus open to theft. He’s a very sound sleeper, and will not awaken even if the doggies bark. Based on the last year or so, he goes through three or four blankets a month. One of the reasons I can’t afford to pay for all the doggies’ needs on my own. Plus:
Blankets handed out to the homeless these days are those almost-paper-thin, aluminum “space blankets,” which are not suitable for pets. What scant services are out there for homeless pets are very hard to track down, and are by appointment only, which is very difficult for street people to arrange, and remember to show up. There is one charity that walks around and hands out pet food and other things for the dogs, including blankets. But they don’t always have blankets, and are very elusive about where and when to find them. I’ve contacted them via their FB page, and they replied like this:
“You can find us in SOMA and the Bayview this Saturday.”
They don’t say around what time, nor on which street or intersection. What’s up with that? Those are BIG districts. They expect the houseless to have smartphones to reach them! Most of them, of course, do not. Infuriating…which I’ve just discussed on a blog entry I posted just posted yesterday:
A donor ordered two raincoats about a week ago, but they have yet to arrive, so…no. Deek keeps them dry, though, with a tarp covered cart, wagon or stroller. And/or parks beneath an overhang of some kind. If he cannot bring them to my place instead. It recently occurred to me that one could possible make an emergency doggie raincoat with a kitchen size, plastic garbage bag. The pups are with me now, so I’ll see how that turns out. If only there were special scotch tape that sticks to dogs!
How do we get to your Amazon Doggy Wish List???? I assume I can pay for a specific thing there and they ship it to you to give to the doggies.
Your assumption is correct; see sig below (which I’ve just updated to match my current mission). Thanks SO much for your kind concern, Roseanne! <3 <3 <3
Re: [MCN-Discussion]- My GoFundMe account is up and running…and it’s going to the dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Discussion MCN Date: 2020-12-20 05:20
On Sat, 19 Dec 2020 10:51:09 -0800 Gerard BOOGALOO Kozlowski squoinked:
I guess we are to consider it an honor that he insults us and that we should PAY him to insult everyone here on the List.
It’s only fair. My ripostes are pretty damn choice these days…and SHOULD come with a price. Some of them will soon be in a book, along with several of your more recent posts…and Terry Sachs’s. It’ll be a great day for the world when that happens! Woo-hoo!
Re: [MCN-Discussion]- My GoFundMe account is up and running…and it’s going to the dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin MCN To: Discussion MCN Date: 2020-12-20 05:14
On Sat, 19 Dec 2020 07:42:43 -0800 Terry BOOGALOO Sachs squoinked:
What about the millions of children who go to be bed hungry each night? I remember the months and years of your gross insults. Go ahead, call me a Nazi, but
Oh look who’s chiming in here: little pipsqueak, bully wannabe, Terry the Sap…kissing Nazi ass because he’s desperate to get into the pants of notorious Hitler worshiper Mike Sewers. Hilarious!
I’m just an ordinary person who will never think of you except with a foul mind and voice.
Ordinary person, eh? As in “ordinary” good German, you mean. News flash, Mr. Sap: you can’t think ANYthing. That foul mind and voice you refer to are your own subconscious banshees, ready to tear you up from the inside out when you least expect it. Maybe they’ll do it next time you’re jacking off in the outhouse to a magazine of naked women with German shepherd heads and dressed only in petite SS military jackets. Woo-hoo!
Re: [MCN-Discussion]- My GoFundMe account is up and running…and it’s going to the dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin MCN To: Discussion MCN Date: 2020-12-20 05:01
On Fri, 18 Dec 2020 20:06:31 -0800 Fred BOOGALOO McMillon squoinked:
You really have no pride or self respect at all do you?
Well that’s highly debatable indeed, Mr. Psychobitch!
Refuse to work and live off working peoples taxes because you are “dissenting”
I cannot help the way God made me. Nor can I help the way the world is set up to be so wicked…of which you are the quintessential textbook example.
Yes, dissenting against such miserable stress and abuse in the workplace, it gave me so many nervous breakdowns that I became an easy candidate for disability funding. I even witnessed a coworker get strangled to death with an HP Laserjet printer cord, while everyone else just stood around laughing. I was the only one who called 911, but the deed was finished by the time they showed up. So much for office romance! Between witnessing a homicide, and all the workers but yours truly guffawing their asses off, you bet I had a nervous breakdown…and years of psychotherapy that I could NEVER afford but for government handouts!
Then there was the time I worked as a short order cook for a vegan restaurant called “The Good Karma Cafe.” Which was anything BUT good karma. Rats had infested the basement storage section, and gnawed into all the sacks of organic buckwheat, soy beans, brown rice, millet, black sesame seeds, and garbanzo, kidney and mung beans. Pooping and urinating everywhere! Yet the manager (also the owner) told us all to shut up and go ahead with using the tainted seeds, grain and beans, or he’d kill us all. He was a former Green Beret and highly decorated Vietnam veteran, so we knew he wasn’t joking around. I lasted about a week before having the worst nervous breakdown ever…with the exception of that incident with the laser printer cord murder. Everybody else quit about two months later, with two employees eventually winding up in the loony bin, and the owner committing suicide.
The last straw for me ever working again in the conventional sense, was when I was a mail sorter for a large corporation whose offices were located on the 32nd floor of 101 California Street, back in 1993. Eight people were massacred, and one of them was my manager. You’ve probably read about it, like most everyone else. But just in case you haven’t:
What are you “dissenting” about ? That people called you bad names and hurt your feelings?
If only! Another time I suffered job-related trauma, was when this elderly battleaxe of a woman kidnapped me…and she didn’t even know me, nor did I have ANYthing to do with her life by any stretch of the imagination. I was employed at the time in a clothing warehouse chain store, as a packer. I’d fold up suits and other clothing into their appropriate boxes, and set them on a rolling conveyor belt, where they’d eventually pass through a large rubber flap and be deposited into a bin where delivery trucks were stationed. Next thing I know, this lady appears out of nowhere and kidnaps me at gunpoint. Where I am forced to enter her vehicle, and she drives away to God only knows where. (Well, HE knew, but I didn’t. At that time I did NOT have an inside connection.) There was a long, harrowing chase by the SF police and state troopers…all the way to the outskirts of Sacramento, where the bitch finally surrendered. Turns out her ex had just delivered a surprise package to her door, earlier that day: divorce papers. Why she chose ME for her hapless scapegoat, to this day I have no idea. I think she lived in a fancy high-rise nearby, ran about the streets in aimless directions, and into our store, ending up in the supply room where I was presently alone doing my jobbie schtick, and she simply took out her rage in a random manner, choosing THIS unfortunate soul.
Now we owe you a living ? And we owe these dogs a happy Christmas ?
No one owes me a “living,” as if anyone understands what you mean by that in the first place. Just what IS a “living,” pray tell? Hardly anyone I meet is actually “living”…they’re just slogging through each dreary, desperate day, hoping to keep their job; or if they already lost that, to keep a roof over their head; or if they’ve lost that, too, hoping to get their next shot or snort of crystal, coke or horse ASAP. Maybe even all three.
Now you beg strangers for money they worked for so these dogs can have a happy Christmas ?
How do you know they WORKED for their money? Could be an inheritance, a lottery boon, or they answered all the questions right on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” “Jeopardy,” or some other lucrative game show. Who knows, maybe they just robbed a bank because they were so moved by my homeless doggie cause! As for showing a dog a Merry Christmas, it was a metaphor for being kind to man’s best friend. Obviously, I’m not intending to set aside a bit of Christmas time to be good to or dog or two, instead of only humans. Though it’s not a bad idea…but I meant all year round, not just a few minutes on a particular day.
Why not use your “profits” to help these dogs instead of donating them to the Girl Scouts ?
What the heck are you talking about? That was a joke! I don’t see HOW you could conflate my joke about you defecating on all the cookies at a Girl Scout meeting, with donations! Perhaps in YOUR world it IS a donation, in the sense of putting your money where your mouth is.
Profits from WHAT ? The blow jobs you give in alleys in the Castro ?
Sorry, Mr. Psychobitch, but I’m NOT that type of guy…so don’t even THINK about touching me, or you’ll be blasted to kingdom come before you even know what hit you.
And when my mate in Maine
Your “mate,” huh? Where do you think that state is located: Oz?
shot his dog because it wouldn’t stop barking and no one wanted a dog that would never stop barking. In most cases a dog with a non-stop barking problem is the result of a harsh owner who didn’t take the love and patience to train it properly. The owner probably drove the dog neurotic through constant abuse in one form or another…or, perhaps, through long-term neglect. But one can use a simple muzzle to thwart those barks, or even have a veterinarian perform surgery on the vocal cords. instead of killing it, for god’s sake. It’s obviously too late for that tortured dog, but there are plenty of websites about getting your dog to stop barking so much or inappropriately, such as:
No it wouldn’t be a shame, it would’ve been the noble thing to do to give it a proper burial.
So we strung it up in a tree and dressed it like a Deer.
A good friend of mine said recently: “Anyone who shows fear or pain to a dog should be sentenced to death.” I agree. Be that as it may, I know you are making this all up, ’cause you’re the biggest bullshit artist this side of the Rockies.
We did honor to the dog by eating it rather than waste its flesh.
That’s not “honor,” that’s the act of two, stupid, vulgar heehaws.
Now what about a half dozen posts screaming that you’re a victim of all the Nazis here that won’t give you money for dogs to have a happy Christmas.
Hyperbolic much? My project isn’t a Christmas goal, it’s just an idea I came up around the holiday season, by coincidence. As for the Nazis: yes, there are two or three here, and you’re one of them…that is, one of Mike Sewers’ sock puppets. And, as we all know by now, Mr. Sewers, is that YOU are a flaming Nazi. Three or four others join in, thus are Nazis themselves, by egging him on. And I certainly don’t “scream” about it, as that’s impossible to do with text-based communication. Maybe if we had AUDIO instead, you’d make a good point. But alas, that is not the circumstance we are in right now. You’re just an angry, old sop who feels cheated that he wasn’t born as Adolf Hitler. Can’t say as I feel your pain, “mate.” Woo-hoo!
Re: [MCN-Announce]- My GoFundMe account is up and running…and it’s going to the dogs! From: Zeke Krahlin To: Frances Leyland Date: 2020-12-20 06:04 PM
Great appeal letter Zeke. I really hope it brings in funds needed to properly care for your friend’s dogs.
My good friend, Tara (not her real name), who is an accomplished author and lives up there in Mendocino has spoken highly of you for your devotion to our animal companions. I am aware of S.O.S. and just checked out the website. Magnificent! I just posted yesterday my piece, “Reflections on a Black Puddle,” which I believe is even more powerful than my GoFundMe appeal. I am now in the process of reaching out further, via setting up social media accounts. This includes Youtube, and because all videos therein are kid friendly, I can easily monetize that playlist. I have just uploaded five videos today, of Wiley & Taco at play:
Notice the two kids’ sleeping bags that I’ve completely unzipped and use for comforters, that the pooches are playing on. They were donated by another announcement list subscriber, through my Amazon Doggie Wish List. A nice touch, I think. I sleep with those comforters myself, and hand one over to Deek whenever he needs a replacement to keep the brindlekins warm at night, when outdoors. That way, my scent and theirs is on it already, for their additional ease.
Thanks for all you are doing for, not only your friends dogs, but for your friend. I know what it is for folks to love their animals full heartedly and for them not having funds to keep them well, safe and fed That’s why I do the work I do. Your friend and his dogs couldn’t hope for a better friend.
I am honored for your VERY kind words of support, Frances! I am amazed how inspired I’ve become, thanks to these doggies, and my houseless friend’s sharing the love of his companions. Inspiration struck me like a lightning bolt just nine days ago, and things are moving fast and falling into place with eerie prescience. The Angels of Inspiration are working overtime on my behalf!
I already have $295 in my GoFundMe kitty, so on Monday I’ll open a separate bank account. This may all fizzle out in the long run, but it’s not for not trying! I’m sure a wallop of goodness will come out of this, no matter. It already is, and this is just the start of better things to come.
Wishing you the best,
I thank you, and Taco & Wiley thank you. They send you many “woofs” of appreciation!
[The original title was going to be: “What I Neglected to Mention, Now Revealed.” But something new has just entered the mix, so I changed it to the title you now see, and for darned good reason. Which reason will become apparent at the end of this tale. So bear with me; you will be greatly rewarded.]
WHAT I NEGLECTED TO MENTION, NOW REVEALED
In my desire to wrap up my previous tale, “I Should Kick Him in the Ass!” I left out some really important issues. Not that I did so intentionally, but they chose to conceal themselves in a rarely visited corner of my mind until some time later, when they kicked into action. They started gnawing at me the next day, which is today, Exmass Eve. Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate, than revealing to you now, these additional revelations.
At first, he demanded the jackets be removed. But I reminded Deek that I EARN these donations…and that it’s friggin’ cold tonight. and he should care more about the pups’ well-being, than his own pride. Well, he mumbled something which I couldn’t translate, but he softened up in a few moments, without so much as a whimper. Thus, the jackets remained securely in place. Good thing, too, because it would’ve killed me to unbind them from my beloved four-legged brindlefriends, knowing how they’d suffer. I would’ve rebelled and started a revolution, before ever doing that…with Deek the first casualty.
SIDEBAR: The first jackets received were too small. My fault, because correctly measuring for a dog’s jacket is new to me…or perhaps the seller’s instructions were skewed. So I rectified that by making an exchange through another resident, whose dachshund slipped into them perfectly. So she purchased for me, on Amazon, the next largest size. They arrived three days later and suited Taco & Wiley to a T.
He griped about the dogs being sluggish after leaving my hovel: “They don’t play or run around for two or three days after visiting you! Not a frisky bone in their body! It’s like you wore them out, running them through the hallways like that!”
“Cut it out, Deek,” I rebounded. “All they mostly do is sleep in the lap of luxury when they’re with me. And they run through my hallway two or three times a day, for less than three minutes. Maybe it’s the shock of returning to the cold night air and having to lie down on concrete most of the time. We’ve been having an unusually long cold snap, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s forty-three fuckin’ degrees right now!”
Then he abruptly switched to yet another faux complaint: “Wiley seems fine, but Taco is definitely skinnier since I left him with you…his ribs are sticking out! He gets fat again in two or three days when he’s with me.”
“No he doesn’t; he looks perfectly fine all the time, whether he’s with you or with me. He doesn’t get fat OR skinny. You just love to argue. You make things up, you lie…just so you can press my buttons. It’s like sport for you, and I’m the punching bag!”
With furrowed brow, Deek gazed directly into my covid-19 bandanna (last night’s was camouflage, of which I have several variations, one heavier on the brown spectrum, one on the blue, and another on the red; plus a TON of the paisley theme in a multitude of colors: this pandemic has brought out the fashionable dandy in me): “Why would I lie? What REASON would I have?”
“Because you’re an asshole?” I thought, but did NOT vocalize.
Deek again brought up his long-running argument that in no way should I ever write about him and his dogs. He kept it up, so I declared I’m gonna put HUGE photos of him and the pups on billboards across the nation. And on flying banners just below the clouds, and through them. And read my Brindlekin Tales across the airwaves…especially on Fox News and all its myriad affiliates. And drop billions of leaflets from the skies across the planet, with his picture on them, his present location, and a different little “Taco & Wiley” blurb on each one…translated into all the many different tongues spoken here on earth. Maybe even Latin, for the classical brainiacs among us. He rather appreciated my embellished retort ’cause he could hardly keep from busting out in laughter. At least, it appeared that way to me…though it could have been an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, or a fragment of underdone potato. God only knows WHAT the dumpsters offer up to homeless people around the Jolly Season!
But he DID make this one, interesting (though more than reasonable) stipulation whereby he’d ACCEPT someone profiting from his life with the doggies:
“I wanna see the money!” he blurted out after my grandiose proposal. “And lots of it! Lots and lots of it!”
“No, I’m NOT writing about you or the dogs, Deek!” I reiterated for the umpteenth time. “But you’re going to benefit immensely, regardless. Because it is YOU who brought me these sweet angels, who in turn brought ME a blessed revelation thanks to their gentle, sweet spirit of pure love, joy, and understanding of how the simple kindness of a furry ball of pure goodness can work tremendous achievements on one’s soul…and destiny.”
I closed My Paean Of Praise thusly: “So stop imagining things that are never gonna happen, that cause you to make blatantly FALSE accusations!”
“Okay,” he said, and nothing more, as I ended our visit and departed back hovel, where my latest (and extraordinary) work-in-progress was calling to me like a lover from Mount Olympus stirring feverishly with lust for yours truly (and yours truly alone) right there on the fainting couch.
I suspect that Deek is actually one of my guardian angels, playing out his role to move me along in a proper fashion. Which in his case is to hurl at my feet one difficult challenge after another…that I become a better person by overcoming each one through compassionate means. But not without a sense of humor, either! For if I’m correct in this conjecture, he definitely knows I’m writing all about him and the pooches, in spite of my convincing reassurance that I am not. IOW: he’s having a lark of a time with me, putting me on the spot so often. But the really good thing about this is that Taco and Wiley are perfectly safe and warm through it all, being as they are, the charges of a loving entity called “Deek” on this earthly plane. And, as you can imagine, my anxieties over them have, for the most part, dissipated.
The greatest thing about this remarkable insight, is that Deek most likely is NOT an addict OR homeless…that it’s simply part of the guise, a character he’s playing, rather than his true self. What he does when he’s out of my range, I can’t imagine. Well, I can, but too many possibilities to waste my time over.
He also rambled on about hanging with “his people” for a few days, who live outside the city limits. Which gave me the impression he was on his way now, and only stopped by to pick up an advance on his allowance. But hours later he was still nearby, hunkering down here in the Castro, and just around the corner from me.
I came back a second time, within scant minutes of that hilarious rendezvous I just recounted, because the Angel of Inspiration goaded me. To tell him my upcoming success is not my doing, but that of God’s. And how many other people will likewise be elevated…as indeed some already are at this very moment, including my own fortunate self.
“I’m not crazy, Deek, this is really happening,” I concluded and prepared to depart once more. “You’ll know soon enough that what I say is true, because YOUR time is just around the corner.”
“See ya later, alligator!” Deek called to me as I crossed Market Street.
“In a while, crocodile.”
As I’m writing this piece now, Exmass Eve morning, it suddenly occurred to me to take a snapshot of where he and doggies camped out last night. It was only 9:15 AM, so surely they’d still be hunkered down beneath their makeshift shelter. But just in case they were up, or at least Deek was, I invented this excuse before exiting my building:
I’d conceal my smartphone and offer to buy him a large cup of coffee from Rosenberg’s. Apologizing for not bringing him his favorite hot beverage (blueberry tea), because I ran out of honey. True enough, because I really DID run out of honey two days ago, and forgot to buy more.
Well, turns out I needn’t have worried, because, yes indeed, their Exmass camp-out was still there, and all parties concerned were safely concealed and, hopefully, warm as toast or reasonably so. Seeing as BOTH brindlekin had their jackets, and a blanket to share. Here are two pics:
Almost two hours had passed before I stepped out to check up on My Trio again…this time to sincerely wish Deek a Merry Christmas, and offer to buy him coffee and a snack or two. But they weren’t around…the area where they had parked for the night was spotless, as if no one had ever camped there in the first place! “Hmm, they might be somewhere nearby, Zeke, don’t give up YET,” I thought, and decided to first head up Market to Castro. As I approached, I saw a small gathering of street people huddled together right outside of Subway and the Chevron gas station. Their small piles of possessions were cast along the curb, and lo and behold, rising above all was Deek’s shopping cart magic bag of goodies, and Wiley & Taco leashed to it, dancing on their hind feet in merry “woofs” at my arrival! I stooped down to receive their sweet attention, which I returned in kind.
At first I couldn’t spot Deek, but then saw him seated along the inner curb that defined a narrow garden separating gas station from sidewalk. He was surrounded by six others, all sharing burritos, subway sandwiches, coffee, soda, and many other snacks and goodies. As I rose, he spotted me:
“Hey, Zeke, whaddup?”
“Oh, I just dropped by to wish you Merry Christmas again,” I called from where I stood, by the cart. Then I stepped forward and right outside the circle of pilgrims.
“All people are assholes,” I declared.
I heard someone chuckle and say, “Boy ain’t THAT the truth!” Looking down towards where the voice arose, I saw a scraggly bearded fellow seated on the concrete near my feet. He had long, dirty-blond hair and wore loose garments cloaked in a striped serape. I grinned back as he noshed on a bulging, steaming hot half-slice of pita bread stuffed with savories.
“No human being is capable of giving the kind of love we all really need,” I continued, speaking over the suddenly attentive pack of vagrants. “Only the sweetness of a dog can do that. Humans are too complicated for such unconditional devotion. No matter how good you are, how long you’ve walked the path of truth in God’s love, you’ll fuck up EVERYthing in the long run.”
By now, Deek was beaming brightly, soaking up my words like the rays of the sun. I tilted my face towards him, and anointed his soul with these Exmassy words:
“So I thank you, Deek, from the bottom of my heart, for bringing Taco & Wiley into my life. They have changed EVERYthing for me…and definitely for the better! I have a ton of phone calls to make over the next two or three hours, about getting my stories out there; as well as some other important matters to discuss. It’s all good, and to my immense benefit, as well as yours. Now I wanna spend a few minutes with the pooches, to wish them a Merry Christmas, too.”
Deek seemed to take all this in stride, unlike his usual, ornery self he presents to me. “Sure, go ahead. They’re dying to see you.”
Wish I had my smartphone, then, to take some pics and a video or two. Because the soft-green nylon shell of the sleeping bag on which the dogs played, reflected pleasingly in the sunlight, mixed as it was with a low pile of jackets and sweaters in deep shades of blue, maroon and black. They climbed over each other repeatedly, vying to get closer in my arms than is physically possible. The tail wags, the growls of affection, love-bites between their little jaws, the rush to slobber all over my face: I was awash in God’s love, and overjoyed to see they still had jackets on. I touched their bodies to discover they were cozily warm, even their uncovered parts such as their floppy ears and chunky little legs. What a relief to know this!
I still had something else to say to Deek, so I stood up and looked at him, until he noticed. He waved me over, so I entered an opening in the circle, bent down halfway over him, and softly spoke these words:
“I want to tell you something, but I don’t want others to hear, as they might not understand. Nothing personal, though.” He nodded okay, so I continued:
“As I said last night, a lot of good things are gonna soon happen in this world, to all the good people in it…and of course, you’re part of it. One thing they told me…and I don’t mean I actually see or hear them, it’s just a strong “knowing” in my heart…is not to worry about Taco & Wiley. They will be perfectly fine forever, and always be with you. They will suffer no disease or other mishaps to destroy our bond with them. But in everything else, as well, we need not worry, ever again. Everything’s gonna work out fabulously for you, for me, and for millions of other people.”
I then paused, wondering if there’s something I forgot to divulge. No, there didn’t seem to be, so I concluded with:
“And that’s my Christmas gift to you…sharing this knowledge.”
He thanked me several times over as I stood and walked away, but not before giving the brindlekin a few more hugs and kisses.
Re: Run-in with the building manager…not very nice. From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: December 24, 4:39 PM
A “gay” dog jacket. Now I’ve heard everything.
He’s just pressing my buttons. That’s all he’s been doing all along. The rascal.
Shouldn’t take long for it to enter the language and become indispensable!!!
Your precognitive take on the matter is most appreciated. Happy Brindlekin Fest, by the way! It’s tomorrow; I just decided that, and so it is. They’ll probably shorten it to “Brindlefest.” I have no control over the Fates. DOWN WITH SHITMAS, UP WITH DOGGY WORSHIP!
PS: I just inserted the N in your “eter” typo. I feel so ashamed for you, Tara. What happened to my literary hero? She was here a moment ago!
Re: Run-in with the building manager…not very nice. From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date: December 24, 5:27 PM
That was typed by my half-witted hunchbacked assistant, who shall now receive a sound beating for that egregiously execrable error!!!
I always wondered why you partnered with Erwin; now I know.
Subject: HOLD THE PRESSES if at all possible From: Zeke Krahlin To: Marshall McGee Date: December 24, 6:55 PM
I have an incredible, TRUE Exmass tale I’m in the middle of composing, and hope to complete within a few hours from now. It is actually the second part of a two-part piece…and the reading of it should take no more time than playing Curious Raven’s video. I will post to you the finished result ASAP, including the text version.
If you cannot, or do not want to, change your scripted plan, that’s perfectly fine with me. However, it IS Exmass Eve, and my piece is a PERFECT modern-day Exmass tale.
Re: One of the best paragraphs I’ve ever written From: Zeke Krahlin To: Tara Roosevelt Date:December 24, 9:12 PM
Gotcher mojo workin’!
So much fun inserting that famous Dickens passage. The second time I’ve done so, as well! Can’t remember WHICH tale that was in, and it was a paraphrase, a modernization of that quote…and very vegan. Ah, found it by searching for “tomacco” (I knew it was part of the paraphrase) in my Gay Bible “/write” folder. I’m having a vision where I’m chewing the fat with Jehovah:
“I don’t even think YOU really exist. You could simply be a figment of my imagination, a manifestation of another dream vision…an undigested bit of tofu, a blot of Veganaise, a crumb of rice cake, a fragment of underdone tomacco.”
It’s an unfinished chapter in my unfinished novel, “Friendly Ghost Detective Agency.” I SHALL eventually complete it.
So another dream came true for me: that I would spend Exmass Eve with Deek’s little brindlemutts. Not that it was at the front of my mind, but something I thought a week or so ago: “If Deek ever asks me what I want for Exmass, I’d tell him ‘to spend Christmas Eve with the doggies.'” (He never did ask, so I never did tell.) Now, I didn’t think I’d see Deek and crew tonight, so it was really a nice surprise when he showed up again and asked if I’d like to have them over. Here’s what I think is going on, based on my self-made philosophy of “NeoPositivity:”
Deek is one of my guardian spirits, who plays somewhat of an antagonist’s role…often convoluting a simple situation into a complex disaster. This challenges me to figure out how to unravel the knot. So, as a clairaudient higher life form (maybe even from another planet; he sure acts like it), he also knows exactly what my wishes are. Thus, he offered up the doggies tonight, not on a mundane friendship level, but playing out a bit of a drama first…never (god forbid) saying how much he appreciates my devotion, and wants me to enjoy their company on this blessed night. Now having said this, I’ve just completed my latest tale…having stepped out at times to discover what I am to write down next. It’s about what happened last night and into the following day, ending with this missive. Here it is:
Notice the two kids’ sleeping bags that I’ve completely unzipped and use for blankets, that the pooches are playing on. They were donated by another dog lover, through my Amazon Doggie Wish List. A nice touch, I think. I sleep with those comforters myself, and hand one over to Deek whenever he needs a replacement to keep the brindlekins warm at night, when outdoors. That way, my scent and theirs are on it already, for their additional comfort.
Please help me provide for my homeless friend’s two lovely doggies, by purchasing an item on my Amazon Doggy Wish List or donating to my GoFundMe account…which second account is for covering veterinarian expenses (but also covering some needs that the wish list hasn’t fulfilled on any given month, such as food or medicine). I am a senior citizen on a low income, and cannot afford to provide much for them, except some dog food, and a sanctuary from cold nights or the rain. My street friend and I have known each other for more than nine years. Note: items on the wish list are categorized with priority ranging from highest to low…so make sure to read the priority status beside each product. For example, if I have more than enough dry dog food for the month, I will reclassify the item as “low.” Please realize that I may need some items more than once per month, as my homeless friend’s possessions are prone to theft or excessive wear and tear. Thank you so much for your kindness! My street buddy has had both dogs for almost two years now, and takes great care of them, as best he can.
FYI: I’M NOT TAKING ANY HANDOUTS! In exchange for your generosity, I will churn out one great tale each week…either about the doggies, or any other theme that strikes my fancy. But I assure you: they’re gonna be mostly about my street friend’s two “brindlekins” (I just made that word up; dontcha love it). You can follow my adventures with Deek and the two half dachshund/half terrier mutts, Wiley and Taco, on this blog. If you subscribe, you will be immediately informed of the latest tale, via email.