Diary entry: Being the boss is never easy, all of Paulie’s employees are very determined individuals, keeping them out of these societal divides and vicious entanglements within factions and infighting groups of idealistic young writers who haven’t yet learned the meaning of restraint, where was I, oh yeah, it’s like keeping the weasels out of the chicken coop, you can’t turn your back one minute, you end up sitting awake all night with empty beer cans and empty promises from rebellious employees who only care whether the next president will be a fascist or a communist, whether the wall will ever get built, or whether walls will come down, whether there will be more healthy snacks in the vending machine or more candy, there is a crisis brewing here just as “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary” is poised to become an international company, yes, we are standing on the precipice of a giant chasm, a chasm which can be crossed if we all jump in unison, but these people seem more inclined to hold grudges than to hold hands, whether we go over this cliff as one united organism, or we all go separately, one thing is sure, the drop is a deep and dark killer… Diary entry: “It’ll only be about fifteen minutes”, why does it take so long to pay for gas when there is no one else in the place, the clerk intoned “You are nothing but an empty fart without any stink to it”, “You ain’t shit”, all I did was ask where the coffee lids were…

Diary entry: T. S. Moynihan, Moynihan wasn’t his real name, he liked the name when he heard it as a kid in an old detective movie, it was the name of one of the characters, the doctor who was always available to dig bullets out of criminals who were on the run, anyway, T. S. Moynihan runs a cute little Bed and Breakfast with his brother, up in Sheboygan, T. S. uses his initials instead of his full name because he feels that Talon Slade is a bit too harsh for people looking to enjoy a folksy country quilt B&B experience, he and his brother E. C. Slade have run their little inn up in Sheboygan for about three years now, E. C. doesn’t use his full name either because he feels it is too rough sounding for a guy who serves whimsical country breakfasts to weary travelers who want that down home charm of a warm Bed and Breakfast Inn with kittens painted on all the doors, E. C.’s full name is Eagle Claw, Eagle Claw Slade, well, if you ever find yourself driving through Sheboygan, stop in at Talon and Eagle Claw Slade’s little B&B and stay awhile, it’s just off Route 9, tell em Paulie sent ya, shalom…

Diary entry: Meet Mr.Maxwell Cardwell, a man on a quest, a quest for anonymity, anonymity in a world where every detail is known about you, your shoe size, your favorite ice cream, your Saturday night activities, every thought, every desire is known about you and studied, Mr. Cardwell set out on a quest to hide himself from the unseen face of the world which studied his every move, Maxwell Cardwell was a retired traveler, a roustabout who could no longer live underneath a prying microscope of inquisitory nosiness by unseen forces, Maxwell Cardwell’s journey began when he withdrew his life savings from the Hopewell Savings and Loan Bank in a desperate attempt to hide himself from the never sleeping eyes of a prying world, Mr. Cardwell had made a decision to hire on a team of disreputable doctors, he would undergo a facectomy, he was about to have his face removed and achieve the goal of complete anonymity, but things did not go exactly as planned, readers, you have now just entered into the Diary Zone, join us as we watch Mr. Maxwell Cardwell’s search to become a faceless person in the crowd, watch as he becomes anonymous in a way he had never imagined, Maxwell Cardwell found his anonymity in death, the anonymity of death itself, yes, Mr. Cardwell found what he had sought, here, in the Diary Zone…

Diary entry: Okay, listen up, this is Paulie your teacher, you are all enrolled in Paulie’s math class, we will try to make this semester as painless as possible, your teacher teaches a simple math geared toward the lowest common denominator of people, if you all sit up straight in your desks, keep your pencils sharpened, and your attention focused on the blackboard, you may do well, if I catch any one of you slouching or writing with a dull pencil, you will all receive a most distressing homework assignment, you will be given rulers and your assignment will be to measure the depth of hell… Diary entry: Oh god, these freakin’ weathermen, pale, pudgy, puppet ponces, Paulie says “poo”… “Look at me”, “I’m Super Puppet Man”, “I can swing my arms like a real person and dance in front of my puppet green screen”, “I pretend I’m controlling the weather with my little weather dance I do, I am the weather conductor, I conduct the nation’s weather on my green screen like a real conductor conducts the symphony orchestra”, whats that old saying, “All the world’s a puppet stage and everyone on it is a deranged puppet”, I harken back to that Barbara Streisand song of a few years ago, “Puppets Who Love Puppets Are The Puppetiest Puppets In The World”… Diary entry: Question: So if they are called hurricanes in the Atlantic, typhoons in the Pacific, what are they called in hell? Answer: Paulie’s disobedient students…

Diary entry: Well, as stated previously, it was bound to happen, the sweet, simple, homespun “Diary” has grown exponentially these past few months into a large corporate entity now called Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary Corporation Inc., I don’t know most of the people around here, people are walking quickly through hallways with ear buds, carrying stacks of computer paper, some are running with laptops, many, if not most, are standing or milling around sucking out of lidded coffee containers and wiping powdered sugar from their faces, nodding at each other as if it were a form of communication, some kid just asked me if I’d seen his dog, well, it’s almost noontime, I’m gonna head to the office for a martini and an egg salad sandwich from the machine, but first, a quick stop at our personnel office to grab some records of new hires, our man who heads up Personnel is one of our most valued employees, he’s a seventeen year old high school dropout we happened to pick up at our last job fair, I keep asking him to let his hair grow out, at least enough to cover the tattoo on the side of his head, it’s kind of eerie looking, I keep telling him we have certain standards and he keeps answering that we don’t, then, I guess this happens with large corporations, the people just have to take sides, it doesn’t matter what it is, people want to be on one side or the other, our Christian techies want a wall built in the break room to separate the Muslim techies, the Republican dataphiles want us to come up with the money to build a wall to separate the Democrats whom they refer to as “communist infiltrators”, UFO experts won’t accept UFO deniers, we even have coffee drinkers bitching about tea drinkers, they want to throw them all in the lagoon over behind the waste plant ala the Boston Tea Party, after my martini and egg salad sandwich, I’ll head on down to Finance to see where we can come up with wall money, but I think first, I’ll call another meeting to go over our latest “No Religion-No Politics” guidelines for “Diary” entries, we live in the midst of a Christian nation and we do not want to rile the local Christian community, as they can be quite critical of thought when it becomes too free, one must always respect the norm, you don’t go in to the middle of an Indian reservation and shout out that Geronimo couldn’t suck General Custard’s pudding for Christ’s sake, we won’t rile the indigenous Christians either, our “No Religion-No Politics” stance will be strictly enforced, Paulie is not crazy, no matter what two psychiatrists and a pretty, dark haired nurses assistant says, she enticed Paulie with her sick, twisted psycho babble, her seductive magic overcame Paulie, Paulie will be vindicated, well, as Paulie sits in his darkened office, with the vodka flowing and the corporate chaos ebbing, Paulie says shalom my people…

Diary entry: Get this, there was this murder mystery writer, he was a bit awkward and quiet but he wrote very successful books, anyway, he had a partner who was outgoing and flamboyant-like who did all the bookings, scheduled the book signings, and met all the women, he didn’t know anything about writing, just as his partner didn’t know about promotion or booking stuff, well, the writer was just finishing up what was to be the most successful story yet, gonna be worth millions, but something came between these partners that caused them to want to split up, there were many late night arguments about who was gonna get what, from the latest smash hit murder mystery, well, the flamboyant partner showed up one night for another late night argument, and while they were in the middle of swearing at each other, the flashy guy picked up a lamp and hit the talented writer over the head as he sat at his typewriter, killing him instantly, the flashy guy wanted the book money all to himself, well, it turned out that the writer wasn’t all the way done writing, he was near the end of his mystery but hadn’t yet revealed the murderer, well, the well dressed, flashy guy pushed his dead partner aside and sat down at the typewriter, determined to finish the book himself, as he scooted the swivel chair close, squared up the paper in the machine, scratched his head, and thought for a moment, he started to type the ending of a story to be worth millions, he wrote “The clown did it”…

Diary entry: Since Paulie hails from the “Great State of Indiana”, he is continually asked what a “Hoosier” is, please allow Paulie to reiterate once more, “Hoosier” is a French Canadian term, the French Canadian fur traders would come down to Indiana every year to meet, get drunk, trade their fur pelts with each other, and insult us locals, then they would go back up north until the next year rolled around, the term “Hoosier” just stuck, “Hoosier” is French Canadian for “Hoser”… Now us Hoosiers reside within the very heart of “Corn Country”, corn courses through our very veins, so how do you tell a real Hoosier from a fake Hoosier, well, offer him a corndog, a real Hoosier will never turn down a corndog, you’ve undoubtedly heard the phrase “You are what you eat”, well, we are corndogs, we have become corndogs, that guy who invented the nuclear bomb said a phrase after the explosion that was based on an old well known phrase in these parts “I am become corndog”… Sly and the Family Stone performed at our state fair and they sang the song “I Am Everyday Corndog People”, well, this has been your Hoosier History Moment, hope you’ve enjoyed, Paulie says to the other forty nine states “Good evening neighbor and good luck to you”, I think we’re all gonna need it, shalom…

Diary entry: I must have said something pretty stupid, as the lady at Seven Eleven said to me “Are you still in junior high school?”, anyway, I didn’t know how to respond so I replied “I won’t dignify that with an answer”… Diary entry: Paulie was a mule, yes, Paulie was indeed a mule, Paulie did his job of carrying many burdens, he did so at the best of his ability but people still called him a jackass, Paulie was considered as only a jackass by the world, well, Paulie no longer carries any burden, the world was Paulie’s burden and he has cast it off his back, yes, Paulie has shaken all you bastards from him, you are left by the side of the road like parasites without a host, may you die slowly… Diary entry: On a more positive note, here is a wisdom bit from long ago, “Do not follow the blind man just because he wears cool sunglasses”… Diary entry: Please know and understand, Paulie’s words have no power, the only power they have is what your imagination gives them, the breeze is felt while it blows, but when it dies down, it ceases to exist, much like Paulie’s words, feel Paulie’s words now, while the breeze is still blowing, this is a wisdom bit for the wise out there, you may not know who you are, but know this, wisdom does not always flow like a river, sometimes the deepest wisdom exists within a still well… Diary entry: People are still asking about the nature of little Paulie’s relationship with the cute little Russian girl he once knew, was it simply some shallow business, or political arrangement, or did it go deeper than that, allow Paulie to elucidate you with the fact that little Paulie gave his little Russian girl his bicycle lock as a symbol of his feelings, the lock was filled with little Paulie’s blood, blood that had flowed through little Paulie’s heart, little Paulie had a nose bleed and he took that blood which had passed through his heart, put it inside his bicycle padlock, clicked it, and gave it to his cute little Russian girl, yes, she took more than little Paulie’s secrets, she took his very life blood…

Diary entry: This is Paulie, CEO of “Paulie Gee’s Realtime Diary”, stating unequivocally; we here at the ””Diary” are not anti religious in any way, we have been receiving an overload of texts, emails, and letters from Jesus people that are very hateful, and just plain insulting, so to lay this whole matter to rest, let us all here say that we do not reject Jesus, no, a mother of one of our young writers bakes us Jesus cookies and I tell you the truth, a good Jesus cookie warms me inside when I dip his head in my hot cocoa… Diary entry: Hey everybody, all the employees and their families are gathered here, we are holding our November Beer, Baloney, and Bean Blowout in October and it is a real blast, the moon is hanging low in the night sky, our hopes are even lower, but we have beer, beans, good baloney, and stories that will certainly go far into the night, anyway, this is Paulie and the gang out here on the avenue, wishing shalom to all of you whom we love, the rest of you, go to hell… Diary entry: Paulie was the editor in chief of his sixth grade newspaper, we all worked hard and put out a fine edition, Paulie was asked to go join the scavenger club and not return until he found a flying catfish, Paulie is still looking… Diary entry: Paulie stood at his window, gazing out into the night, when there was a movement out in the darkness, an ugly man with long hair, a bent nose, and a face that looked like one of those rubber masks they have in the magic shop window, Paulie was startled, then he recognized Mrs. Wigman taking her dog in the house for the night… Diary entry: New novel, short story, or just a regular “Diary” entry, “Lady of The Morning Meets Midnight Man”, a beautiful lady’s long dark fall after meeting a dark man who is spiraling out of control, a story of love, passion, and careless abandon, two lost souls who become entwined in murder, yes, murder on the late night train to Waukegan, there will be much “bleedin’ on the Waukegan” line this dark and stormy night, those of you with weak wills and weak stomachs, please turn away now, do not stay, this story is only meant for the experienced, those whose iron guts never flinch, nevertheless, do not continue reading unless you are sitting down, better yet, lying down, as many will get light headed and dizzy with fear, yes, it may be best that you all go away, stop reading now, you could be affected in ways you will never recover from, so as Paulie continues on with the story, go away, leave now, everyone, Paulie does not want to be responsible for mass mental hysteria… a beautiful lady’s long, dark, dangerous fall is never an easy thing to witness but I was there, and, as some say, “partially responsible”, I will continue on the best I can, this is not at all easy for me but I will be strong and relate this thing the best I can, this fateful decent into the very bowels of darkness, on this dark night, and this dark thing that happened on the Waukegan Line, when so much blood ran red on those snake like railroad tracks that ran through picturesque Midwestern countryside, the train cut through scenic country, pretty during the day, but when night fell and cold darkness replaced warm daytime whimsy, things got real, too real…

Diary entry: Back when Paulie was a young lad, he ran a fake ID business, yeah, people were always coming to him for fake driver’s licenses so they could legally drink in bars when they were only fifteen or sixteen years old, Paulie’s business expanded so much he took on two young employees to work for him, well, the business peaked and then took an exceptionally difficult financial downturn, it was difficult for us to keep up with demand, as this was the time when beer drinking had become a craze, anybody who was anybody drank beer, and everybody was trying to be somebody, well, we couldn’t fill all our orders and still maintain our quality control, we made too many fake driver’s licences with the same photo of that kid in the Bazooka Bubble Gum comics, people began to catch on and Paulie’s Fake ID Company Inc, bit the dust, yeah, it was only the first of Paulie’s endeavors, no, dreams, to burn in fiery conflagrations of public hatred and loathing… Diary entry: Well, Paulie has been knocked down innumerable times, but he is still standing, for the time being anyway, yes, Paulie stands tall and proud, until Widow Clear next door swings her heavy broom because Paulie simply wants to love and be loved, well, this is Paulie, out here on the avenue, keeping it real for everybody, you people don’t know what you are doing, follow Paulie to the castle in the sky, the reality castle, yes, with the proper footwear, the right mental attitude, and a burning fire in your gut, you may reach the top of this mountain, but know this, if you weaken, if you falter, Paulie will flip you off the cliff with his big green rubber climbing boot, so, this is Paulie, out here on the mountain, calling out a loud yodel, “Wake up you retard!”…