Nov 15, 2020 Diary entry: My young life was like a story out of Dickens, we were shiny black ravens who flocked among the chimney smoke lanes, we lined up along the telephone wire high above the town, and we spoke of the things we had done, and our dreams which were larger than the world itself, our hearts were all aflutter with anticipation for when that jolly man would appear, the half drunken coal lorry driver, which meant we would have coal for the furnace, and we would be sleeping warm and snug once more in our little flannel pajamas in our little beds, and the harsh ugly world would be left out on the cold frozen doorstep like a bad dog that had peed on the rug again, people today don’t know what it is like, we counted coal in our Christmas stocking as a blessing because there was coal in the coal bin, others consider coal in the stocking as a curse, well, one man’s curse is another man’s blessing, it’s been that way all throughout time, if you would only count your curses as blessings, you would never be cursed again, if a person steps on your apple, make applesauce, if your kid comes home and tells you he ran over the dog while backing the car into the driveway, count it as a blessing, you have fertilizer for the rosebushes, if you just dropped LSD and made plans for a relaxing evening at home listening to music and opening that special bottle of wine, and your wife tells you that she invited the stupid couple next door over for bridge, and they don’t smoke or drink because they say it harms the planet, well, some things will forever be a curse, anyway, Santa Claus, I don’t buy into the whole Santa business, last year, I don’t know who it was, Santa, or one of his animals, but someone crapped in my fireplace, and I’ll be sitting up all Christmas Eve night this year, and if I hear Santa walking around on my roof, I’m gonna fill his rear end with bird shot, he’ll be able to fly back up north without using his sled, you’ll hear the guy on the radio say that Santa was sighted on radar flying back to his Siberian North Pole office to sink his sore red rear end in a snowbank, if I catch that chimney sweeping pest, I’ll hang him outside the window of the stone tower with a wilted mistletoe tied to his trousers which the rats will kiss under before they gnaw his stinking carcass, anyway, to all you shiny black ravens who are now older and gray, and you can’t get up on the telephone wire anymore, I commiserate, there is no smoke from the chimney these days, well, I send my best blessings out to those whom I bless, and my best curses out to the rest of you, you all know who you are, especially you widow Amundson, why do you make such a big deal over a little cat crap in your mailbox, and how do you know the empty beer cans in your yard belong to me, there must be millions of people who drink that kind of beer, and can I please have my golf balls back, I saw the man cleaning your gutters last week, anyway, might I say to everyone this Christmas season, if we don’t hang out our stockings expecting anything, we won’t be disappointed, I send each one of you, whoever you are, and wherever you are, love, good cheer, and sweet candy cane wishes for a better year to come, shalawam…

Nov 8, 2020 Diary entry: Well I told you so, didn’t I tell you, I told you and I told you and I told you, if you don’t vote there would be trouble, and just look at the trouble you’ve caused because you wouldn’t get up off your worthless lazy keister and go vote, America is now broken beyond repair and we have lost a president, all because of your lackadaisical attitude, I hope you’re happy with yourself, look at you, I am so disappointed in you, what am I going to do with you, this isn’t like the time you ate all the cookies and lied about it, you messed up big time and you know it, don’t look at me like that, wipe that look off your face, here, give me your paper, I’m going to mark a big F on it with a red ink pen, no, that’s not good enough, I’m going to mark your F with a fat red Sharpie, I want you to take your paper home and return it to me signed, you’ve really done it this time, I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried with you, you just refuse to do as you’re told, I am at my wits end with you, what am I going to do with you, I said wipe that look off your face, sit up straight, quit slouching, you’re not going to get off easy this time, you may have broken America beyond repair, how does that make you feel, what are you going to do about it, there is nothing you can do now, it is too late to fix what you’ve done, just sit there and think about it, it’s all your fault, you think you can do whatever pleases you and there will be no repercussions, well what do you think about that, you can’t go back in time and change things now, you should have thought about your actions before you fouled everything up, this is a travesty, you’ve caused a travesty that could have been avoided, I just don’t know what to think of you. your complete disregard for responsibility is abhorrent, think hard about what you have done, I can’t stand to look at you, you have exhausted all my patience, I have been so good to you and this is how you repay me, I hope you’re proud of yourself, I can’t believe the total disregard you have towards what is right, you just sit there and think about what you’ve done, can’t anything penetrate that thick skull of yours, in all my days I have never seen the likes of what you have done, I have told you and I have told you and I have told you, but do you listen, I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours, what were you thinking, there is no way you can ever make up for what you have done, I hope you’re happy, are you satisfied with yourself, what are you going to do to fix things, you can’t fix things, the damage has been done, you should have thought about the consequences of your actions, but it’s too late now and I don’t want any of your apologies, where did I go wrong with you, I gave you everything I could, and this is what it all comes to, I have never been so disappointed, stop looking at me like that, I hope you’re proud of what you’ve done, I have sacrificed and I have sacrificed and I have sacrificed for you, and this is the thanks I get, I don’t know what is to become of you, you are my deepest disappointment, how does that make you feel, I hope you feel half as bad as I do, wipe that look off your face, I don’t know how you can even hold your head up, your shameful actions have been devastating, do you just sit up late at night thinking of ways to disappoint me, I couldn’t be more disappointed with you, I give and I give and I give, and for what, disappointment, that’s what, I bet you wish you were a time traveler to go back in time, well, you’re not a time traveler, if you were a time traveler, you would just go back in time and disappoint me again, I just don’t have the words to tell you how disappointed I am in you, I don’t know what to say to you anymore, have you even heard one word I’m saying, I bet you’re thinking to yourself that you will listen to me next time, well there won’t be a next time, well, I’m going for a smoke and a martini, you better be straight when I get back…

Oct 24, 2020 Diary entry: It was 1961, the fifth grade, our desks were side by side, we sat next to each other all day every day, I sat next to the prettiest girl in school, she told me her dreams, she said I was in every one of them, one afternoon after school I stole two steak knives from my mom, and we went to the most secluded part of the park and we carved our initials into a tree, that tree is still there, although there is no trace left of the fifth grade or the prettiest girl in school who told me her dreams…

Oct 14, 2020 Diary entry: I remember an Italian kid from back in the neighborhood, his name was Alfredo, he had a sister named Marinara, they brought zest and life to our drab macaroni and cheese existence that threatened to boor us clear through the hollow earth all the way to China, until we were the left over dregs of a world we thought we knew, but it was a world that didn’t care to know us, where was I, oh yeah, this canned spaghetti is horrible, I don’t know why I bought it, I was starving when I went grocery shopping and the picture on the label was enticing, it was just a cartoon drawing of a plate of spaghetti, but when I saw it I imagined sitting in a little out-of-the-way bistro’s open courtyard under a full moon, gazing into the eyes of a beautiful signorina who had just pledged her undying love to me as I twisted a cork from the cool dusty neck of a bottle of bold red vino, and we laughed the night away as if it were our very own secret joke, anyway, this canned spaghetti is horrible, I think I would rather have a pig anus hot dog, wait, scratch that pig anus, I’d rather have a kosher cow anus hot dog, I’m trying to eat cleaner these days, well, shalom all…

Oct 8, 2020 Diary entry: Get this, a grown man wearing a NASA tee shirt and a ball cap that said “Make America Great Again” chastised me for making a flat earth comment while in line at the gas station, I made a second comment that was something like “May the ghost of Alan Shepard fly a multi pronged space probe up your vacuous ego-driven heliocentric dark hole as you you stoop to pick up a lost penny”, these people have got to learn to never defend their globe earth nonsense around me, I don’t think the earth is a globe, and I don’t think globe earthers are human, I get so tired of responding to every son of a dog who rejects reason and logic like a rabies-ridden mutt rejects a bowl of water, well, you still got to love the animals even though they are pests at times, this is Paulie, saying don’t feed the animals chocolate candy or truth, they will only barf on you, shalawam…

Oct 4, 2020 Diary entry: This will be one of the last great stabs at humor that Paulie will make, as all humor has been depleted from this stationary enclosed earth, there is no more humor left, there is only one final frontier of humor left, and that is in outer space, so unless they discover some new universe network in a brand new multi universal system that has been squared to the cube root of the standard dimensional mean calculation, this will be it for Paulie’s humor, he has more serious business to attend to, anyway, I can’t find my hover pod, I have no idea where I parked it last night, the only thing I remember is leaving the bar out on Nebula V, the new place that just opened up out on the outer ring of Nibiru Three’s ninth galactic dimensional band where they serve those cute little drinks with the umbrellas in them and they pump xylotriconium into the air space to rejuvinate you as you drink, I’m lucky that I don’t have to use public wormhole transportation in which you can never get a seat during a 2 billion hour trip in a stuffy tube which smells of a combination of garlic and urine, the government has been promising for years that they would pump xylotriconium into the public wormholes, but they never do. After a 2 billion hour ride on a stuffy wormhole, you have some very weary travelers who could use a little xylotriconium boost, I suppose we are fortunate that the public wormhole transportation worker’s walkout is over, they wanted better pay and an end to the 40 billion hour workweek, whew, I shouldn’t have drunk that last Sonic Blastoff Cocktail, anyway, I’ll call the Inter Universe Locator Service later, after I’ve had a little hair of the Dog Star, and get the coordinates of the whereabouts of my hover pod, it will really cost me this time, as the charge for using the locater service rises exponentially after the third use of their service, I expect my digital space Amero-Euro-Yuan debit account to take a drastic hit this month, geez, I feel like I just flew 250 thousand billion light years to the parallel universe and I had to walk home, boy have I got a headache, my head feels like all the stars in the Whirlpool Galaxy had too much squid and Saki last night and they got dizzy and they all threw up in my brain, I really gotta start staying home at night, well, this is Paulie, sending 50 thousand billion love wishes out across that great dark chasm that separates us, shalawam…

Sept 28, 2020 Diary entry: The American political system, what can I say about the American political system? First of all, when these bastards give you two choices, it doesn’t mean that you have to choose one, you people got to stop being such fools, don’t play their double handed, double tongued, double faced game, or you are a double digit dipshit, say double digit dipshit three times fast, now for all of you die hard American patriots out there who aren’t convinced, give Mom a kiss, have a slice of apple pie, eat your pig anus hot dog, and get your sorry butts to the polls, as someone has to keep the running gag going and it may as well be you, anyway, keep America beautiful and make her great, oh yeah, ha ha…

Sept 27, 2020 Diary entry: As I gaze into the thick cloud that envelops my office, I see ghosts of memories long past, things long buried that were asleep, things that have come awake and want to talk on a late night. I just want to relax and look to some hazy future world that doesn’t know me. My aching desire is to live in a world in which I am anonymous, unknown, never before experienced by the inhabitants. I want a new never-before-lived-in world in which we all get to start over. I want to be unexperienced by people. I want to start over. I want no pain or blood or destruction ascribed to me. But that is unrealistic, so I will watch and listen as the smoke plays back my sordid life on a fuzzy black and white film reel in which the gory details are not easily seen, but felt.

Sept 16, 2020 Diary entry: C’mon, let’s be real here for a second, haven’t we been taught everything we need to know in our dreams, our dreams come every night, just as the sun rises and sets every day, over and over, those same dreams come over and over, they may be a bit different here and there, but they all have the same general theme, you are either running from a mad bull, running across rooftops because some mad guy is chasing you, and he has even madder friends, or the elevator cable snapped, and you are free falling through a cold elevator shaft at one hundred miles per hour, you instantly calculated 32 ft. per second per second per 1,000 ft., which is a very close estimate figuring the footage from the 85th floor, because you wanted your obituary to have the facts right, or you got your pant leg caught in the subway track again just as the uptown express is coming at you trying to make up time, the thing is, don’t we always wake up just before we splat on the sidewalk from an eighty story balcony fall, don’t we always wake up just before the shark chomps down on our little rubber snorkel, we should learn the lesson of our dreams, we should learn that we must wake up before it all goes to hell, every night we are taught to wake up, so why is everybody sleeping as the biggest rail crash in the history of the world is going to be centered right over your little tomato patch, in your little backyard, next to your little house, where you are still in bed dreaming that hell has descended on you, and you refuse to wake up and save yourself, are you going to just die in your dreams, I can’t guarantee that the world you wake up to is any better than whatever horrifying disaster dream you find yourself in at the moment, but wouldn’t you rather die wide awake and see it coming rather than give up and surrender to the corrupt Mexican police who have hunted you down for killing one of their brothers, and they will perform “gringo justice” on you in the middle of the desert without witnesses, c’mon, let’s all wake up, I will tell you about my awakening, I fell asleep a thousand years ago, and I awoke to a bigger shit world than I could have ever imagined back in 1020, my life was so simple and lovely then, I had it all, money, cars, girlfriends, a good job, I was on top of the world, then it all came crashing down like the tree fort you built out in the maple tree behind the house in 958, well, the point is, the worst dream in all the history of dreams is barreling down on us, let’s wake up before we get splatted by who knows what, well, this is an awakened but not happy Paulie, saying shalawam…

Sept 14, 2020 Diary entry: The office was filled with a heavy haze, my La Aurora #1 Preferido with a Camaroon wrapper had gone out hours ago, and it lay in an oddly shaped tray, or bowl, or the very quicksand bog abyss that awaits your presence because you blew off a very important business associate who is more like an investigator looking into some financial irregularities in your company which were really more like habits than irregularities, again, because you were too stoned to drive, and you know your keys are around here somewhere, but you are too comfortable to even get a cold iced tea, let alone look for car keys that you have no use for, anyway, I can just barely make out through a deep haze, the clock on the wall, it’s hands are pointing to two seconds until doomsday, what’s new, my whole life has been doomsday, doomsday began in 1951, and it’s gonna be over before you can even ask your teenage son what a real mother ship looks like, and why is it blocking out the sun, and “Are those large grays”, or “Why are all those furry little things from Star Trek all over our garden”, you people got no idea about doomsday, if us earthlings have enough time left, I will return at a later date to elaborate on safeguards you can utilize, until I return, keep your ear to the ground, keep your nose to the wind, prepare to shelter in place, always be ready to move to your bug out location, keep your head on a swivel, and please come visit, we always enjoy company, love to all, shalawam…