Diary entry: Paulie’s little hut is situated at the base of the Mount of Olives, not the old Mount of Olives, the new Mount of Olives, Paulie drinks a lot of martinis and he really, really, ordered way too many olives, so Paulie lounges under the great shadow cast by a hill of olives that would have made my dead Greek uncle, Alejandro, proud to have had such a nephew of wise taste and discernment, when I was a young boy he was always telling me I had wise taste and discernment, whether I was picking my nose or picking the wrong square on that old game show, Uncle Alejandro always told me I had wise taste and discernment, Uncle Alejandro was my defender in those days, he defended me when I struck out three times in the Farmington baseball finals, he defended me when my entire report card looked like the first letter in that one ugly word you get spanked for saying out loud, and he defended me when I barfed yams and ham on the dog during Christmas dinner, he always came to my defense, saying “That boy has wise taste and discernment”…

Diary entry: When Paulie was a young boy, he feared most everything, but the thing he feared most in the world was the “Booger Man”, people have been telling me for years I had it wrong, it was the “Boogie Man”, not the “Booger Man”, but they were wrong, I was right, the “Boogie Man” hung out under beds, in the backs of closets, in cellars, and other places around the house, but the “Booger Man” lived under the bridge and he came out when it got dark to hunt little boys who would never blow their nose, and who would continually wipe boogers on Auntie Creesha’s best furniture throws at her open house, anyway, the “Booger Man” ate boogers, that is what kept him alive, he had some sort of medical problem from when he was in the army and they had to do some serious brain operation on him that didn’t turn out right, he became a different man after they switched some wrong veins in his head and his senses got all screwed up, it wasn’t his fault, but he was now demented as a feral pit bull and he had an unending appetite for boogers, any boogers, spending his life living under the bridge, only coming out at night to find boogers wherever they may be found, neighborhood cats, dogs, guinea pigs, little boys, no one with boogers was safe, there were dead cats all over the place and we always checked them, their noses were clean, none ever had boogers, an aura of fear hung over my young life in those days, sometimes even today, when it is very dark out and the breeze is soft, I can almost still hear the “Booger Man” stir in the night, hunting his silent prey…

Diary entry: Hey, Paulie here, I get so tired of hearing our school age children whine about every little thing; their school, their teachers, their little toys that aren’t new enough, kids today just don’t know, back when I was in grade school, things were different, I’m not saying our teachers were overly harsh or anything, we loved and respected them, but one day we were on a field trip, it felt more like a forced march, but anyway, I was so thirsty, I asked Mr. Winston if I could have a sip of water from his canteen, I had a nickle I’d give him in exchange for the privilege, he looked down at me and said “Boy, I wouldn’t sell you a glass of piss if you were on fire”, “Keep your nickle”, “Now get back in formation boy, we got ground to cover”, one day I asked the cafeteria lady, Mrs. Hellman, if I could have extra jello instead of the fish stick, she told me if I didn’t move along, she’s feed me her iron fry pan without the tarter sauce, the iron fry pan straight up, then she banned me from her cafeteria for two weeks, and the school nurse, Mrs. Cudgel, I don’t think she was a real nurse, and she had really hairy arms like the janitor who continually warned us that if he caught any one of us in his hallway, he would mop his slop sink with his head, I think the main thing I learned back in school was discipline, the simple discipline of living, going along to get along as they used to say, yeah, the world has changed my friend, changed in profound ways that make me appreciate my younger days when my only worry was math class and whether my stash of partly chewed bubble gum under my seat was safe, well, this is Paulie, looking back to the good days, shalom…

Diary entry: Look, Paulie wants to say what is on his mind but he really can’t, Paulie will confine himself to sitting back out of the way, striking those wooden matches on whatever rough spot is near, and tossing them everywhere, in the hopes he may light up a few dumb asses while he sets the world on fire, Paulie truly believes that the dead light bulbs in your heads can somehow come back to life even though your tungsten element melted years ago and the vacuum escaped only to be replaced with imaginary political and religious bullshit which was forced on you since childhood, it’s not your fault you live in Fairy Land, but it is your fault if you don’t fight your way out, please seek to flee Candy Land’s Dark Licorice Forest, swim through Hot Fudge Waste Treatment Plant Lagoon, pull your Cotton Candy Car out of your Fudge Paved Driveway, rub the Chocolate Pudding from your eyes, it’s a new day, a bright and shiny day, and the day is all about “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary”, we serve up hearty Meat and Potato Meals every day for those who are trying to break their Candy Ass Diet of Lollipops and those little sour things that always end up all over the floor, it’s a beautiful clear day today, see it without your Pudding Goggles on, well, this is Paulie, shouting out a very Meaty and Potatoey shalom…

Diary entry: Hi everybody, I think it’s time we acknowledged our Eastern brothers, sisters, and cousins here at home and across the seas, with a little anecdote from Paulie and the staff, Paulie’s first girlfriend was Kim, Kim She, she lit up the cold winter nights like a pot of hot summer cabbage, we dwelt upon the mountaintop, we had claimed it as our very own, the wide city down below belonged to us, we had claimed Yongsan Mountain in the name of love, we nested inside the Dragon’s Mouth, and fire did emanate from that ever-blazing furnace, our love fire illuminated a drab and dreary winter city scene of confusion and despair down below, yes, on those cold wintry nights so long ago, a blazing fire stood watch over the night, over the sleeping city, people everywhere gazed upon a burning Yongsan, and they wondered why, why were the stars in the sky perplexed, why did they descend down in the night to gaze upon two young people who had set the Dragon on fire with a thing the world could never understand, a thing the world could never know, why indeed, shalom all…

Diary entry: This is a legal message from “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary” concerning mistletoe, a class action legal suit has been filed on behalf of workers who were exposed to mistletoe in the work place, workers in the mistletoe fields who were exposed to the freshly harvested crop, factory workers who cut and bundled mistletoe in little cellophane wrappers to be sold during the holidays, and those who purchased such items, the producers and manufacturers of mistletoe and mistletoe related products knew their products caused “mistletoethemia” and did nothing, you may be eligible for a cash award, if you have been diagnosed with the deadly disease “mistletoethemia”, or are now being treated, or are seeking treatment, we want to represent you, call our offices now, don’t delay, “mistletoethemia” is a serious disease and we are here to help you get what’s coming to you, we have been helping “mistletoethemia” victims solve their financial and medical problems for years, won’t you let us help you too, call today…

Diary entry: Paulie must take this time to expound on this whole “impeachment thing”, number one, what’s the deal, I am stepping down from office as CEO of “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary Corporation Inc.” at the end of this year, c’mon people, it’s only thirteen days and you still want to vote to kick me out anyway, number two, this whole “impeachment thing” is a most egregious witch hunt in which the witch has become roasted like the last wienie on the grill after the grill master fell asleep with his head in the punch bowl, when the witch has been roasted in the fire this long, there is nothing left on the spit, let’s douse this inferno with cheap beer and move on, Paulie is appalled by the cheap tricks of those who seek his job, but Paulie is unfazed, do you not know that you seek to impeach not only Paulie, but Paulie’s family also, I asked my family last evening how they feel about being impeached, Smudge scratched his ear, little Smudge licked himself, and Goober my cat just stared vacantly like he always does, speaking of Goober, the tranquilizers the vet prescribed are working wonders, Goober seems to be back to his old self, he’s been “devilin’ the dog” as he used to do, instead of being Smudge’s personal rag doll that Smudge carries through the house in his mouth, I tried one of Goober’s new tranquilizers the other day but I didn’t like the effects, I spent the afternoon gorging on tuna fish and watching bird videos online, well, I’ve got work to do, I’m heading down to the pod room to pass out “Do not impeach” buttons to counter the big “IMPEACH” sign in the hallway and the little stickers that are stuck to everything around here, they say “Honk for impeachment”, someone even brought in a large box of goose calls so everyone could honk, it sounds like we’re in the state goose refuge, I’m making a list this season of all employees who are wearing goose call lanyards around their necks, I’m sending out Christmas cards to them, I found the cutest holiday greeting cards, they have a poinsettia motif on the front and when you open them up, there is an elf standing under the mistletoe, bent over with his pants down, and he has a peach and a candy cane tattooed on his rear, the caption in gold leaf on the bottom of the card reads “Kiss my peach mint bitch”, well, there is much to do as this old year winds to a close, so Paulie winds up this “Diary” entry by saying simply, shalom…

Diary entry: Hey people, are you chewing on this stupid fake world like a dog on a pork chop bone, are you trying to swallow the world whole without chewing it first, do you swallow everything your master tosses in your bowl without looking at it first, do you have your jaws clamped on to the world’s gristle and you won’t let go, like that one dog does, or the hungry turtle that won’t let go even after they cut his head off, c’mon, spit it out, we need to get things clear here, you are eating the wrong things of this world, you eat without looking, you think the ex carnival worker with the dog face and lion tattoo that says “Born to roar”, who stands behind the curtain fixing your “organic” meal is, in reality, a pretty lady wearing a short apron that has “What’s cookin’ Honey” emblazoned on it, look, the hairy-armed, face-like-an-iron-skillet man who picks his boogers with his thumb, he has to fix your food but he doesn’t have to eat it, and neither do you, Paulie admonishes all of you, “Spit that gristle out of your mouth now”, call to the waiter to clear this shit off the table, and bring another goddamned pitcher of martinis, you are gonna roar into the night like a hungry tiger because you have refused the world’s offerings, you will stalk the night as you were meant to from the beginning, like a famished gourmand who waits for that special prey that makes the waiting all worthwhile, well, this is Paulie, heading to the kitchen for a corn dog and another martini, let me say that all of us here at the “Diary” wish our best wishes during this special time of year, when we all try to do better, when we all try to eat less, and we all try just a little harder to get along, shalom…

Diary entry: Hey, it’s Paulie, just a short note to the cattle of the world then Paulie has gotta go, an old Western was on TV the other day about driving the cattle herd east to it’s destination, it was a microcosm of the world we all live in, we, the cattle, are heading through the range with the sun shining overhead, a nice breeze out of the west that gently pushes us on, we have had good water, we’ve had our feed, and our imaginations are free to flow like the Rio Grande after a spring rain, what’s that old holiday phrase, “We have visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads”, and that’s all they are, only visions, the elite of the world have stockpiled all the real sugarplums for themselves and they have given us imaginary ones, but we seem to be stupid and happy anyway; as we clop along the dusty trail, we imagine that sparkly town toward the east, St. Louis, full of glittering hotels, saloons, dance halls, and restaurants, unfortunately, we can’t see beyond our slobbering noses or our dysfunctional imaginations, in reality, St. Louis is basically a guy in a waiter’s uniform who takes orders for hamburgers from hungry diners who are hungry enough to eat a horse but they want a steer, if you make it past Sedalia’s meat packing plant that waits to greet us with head hammers and boning knives and you manage to trot on into town anyway, you won’t be enjoying the accommodations in the way you think, Paulie pleads with his readers, leave the trail, get off it now, cut yourselves from the herd, give them over to beer guzzling, drunken, whiskey-burping gluttons who wipe your brothers’ fat on their sleeves while calling out for another platter of bloody flesh, I realize no one wants to leave his herd of brothers and sisters, but you must save yourself, they cannot, nor will they, help you, you must help yourself, well, this is maverick Paulie, out here in the brush, alone but alive, saying shalom…

Diary entry: Paulie here, the scarecrow out back blew down in last night’s wind, could this be an omen of some kind, a subtle hint of what Paulie’s future holds, holds for now anyway, is it possible that a black future can be altered in some way, can we change our future before it happens, can you change the path of your in laws car so they end up in Cherryville’s sweet potato festival parade instead of your driveway, can any of us change the path that has been laid out before us, laid out for us before time ever existed, before we ever existed, are we unable to veer either left or right, are we like those old slot cars that can only drive to where the slot takes them, are we like the sweet milkshake that’s only future is to be sucked up through a fat straw into a fatter guy’s gut, what are we anyway, are we not men, are we not the deciders of our own futures, Paulie can only ask, he cannot answer, but Paulie sincerely wishes that your futures are all what you want them to be, bright, clear, and full of good things, as for Paulie, please understand, he remains cautiously pessimistic, this is uncertain Paulie, saying with conviction, my love for the family is undying, now and forever, shalom…