New Zekeland

Well, the adventures of Unemployed Man continue to my deepening regret. But I did something good today. I called my mother and reported a downed powerline. I wasn't in costume so I couldn't leap out of my car and save the neighborhood by wrestling the electric hydra to a standstill. But by my calling her, the authorites responded and aprehended the transgressor driving the semi that caused all this foulness. The unpaid internship as UM's sidekick is still open. No applications have as yet been recieved.

To end this reading of the Gospel According to Zekius, I leave you with this:
"Fredo was weak and stupid. He shouldn't have eaten that key." Kramer

I REALLY NEED TO FIND A JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!
I AM GOING TO GO POSTAL ON THE WORLD IF I DON"T GET ONE SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, anyway, the quest for employment continues. This hunt has long ago surpassed the search phase and has now become a grueling, bitter struggle with the forces of Corporate America. There will be a job. OH YES THERE WILL BE!! I will have to adopt a new alter ego: UNEMPLOYED MAN. Able to leap applications in a single bound. Able to dispense resumes with the quickness of a hedgehog. Able to alienate the interviewer in a single word (if he ever got to that stage). Such are the powers and responsibilities of UNEMPLOYED MAN. However, the archenemy of UNEMPLOYED MAN is EL CAPITAN CORPORATE. This villian harrasses and annoys UM until UM is unable to do anything but rant and rave on his blog. See why UM needs a job? Help him in his struggle with ECC. Applications for an un-paid internship as UM's sidekick are now being accepted.


To end this reading of the Gospel According to Zekius, I leave you with this:
"that bag makes me wanna drink you even more." Zeke, at Burhan's Station

Days bleed and ooze into each other. Nights bring blessedly cool relief as the stars spin and dance above. But time is mutable. Sanity comes in bursts and fragments and unexpected blips. Am I angelic like Gabriel? Full of love? Or am I full of God's vengeful wrath? Or am I Shaitan? The opposite of Gabriel? I don't know anymore. Nights bring useless energy burned up on crossword puzzles and movies formatted to fit my screen. Why can't I love like the Illinois Nazis? Where is the beautiful girl with the machine gun that hunts for me? If they killed my friend would I wreak swift and terrible justice upon them? Would I blow the trumpet named Azreal and blast forth flame and destruction? Have I passed the slow mutations and gone straight for the quick metamorphosis? Will I remain the same inside or does that change too? My new bed comes tomorrow and I wonder why I can't have nice things. Will ever I lay down beside my sweet sweet city woman on that new bed? The company now is a panda named Pravda, and, like a lot of women, she is as fickle as her namesake. Anyhoo, this rambling has helped release some of the inchoate turmoil within. It all boils down to having a small Asian woman walk on your back.

To end this reading of the Gospel According to Zekius, I leave you with this:
"Sniff her like a dog."
Random audience comment during Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle