RETURN TO SENDER/VEHEMENT DISCLAIMER

Yesterday's snail mail included a piece of correspondence from the IRS. Of all the people or governmental agencies I don't want to hear form, I think the IRS would top the list. The last time I heard from them, they sent me a bill for $40k I didn't owe. The time before it was a bill for $700k I didn't owe. And once upon a time, they saved the postage and dispatched two agents to my door! You get the idea. 

SIDE BENEFITS OF FULL TIME EMPLOYMENT (What a Girl Wants)

Besides the obvious stuff which I won't bother to mention, two characteristics by which women judge a man are a) his footwear...and b) the contents of his refrigerator. I'll give you a perfect example of the former: 

BITTER SWEET IRONY/MIRACLE OF MIRACLES

Curious as to why Trinity Church suddenly obtained enough funding to hire two new full time employees, I inquired therein to discover that almost the entire soup kitchen and pantry program is a government-funded operation and moreover, the money I'm being paid comes from a special Covid era federal grant.

So let me get this straight: The "people" take 2/3 of my life savings and then after I've volunteered thousands of hours of my time to feed the poor and homeless, it rewards me with a $20/hour job? Doesn't strike me as a huge concession. 

WHAT LOCKDOWN?

If there's a pandemic gripping the world's collective consciousness, you certainly wouldn't have known it by the number of people out and about on the East River promenade yesterday. Try keeping New Yorkers cooped up on a gorgeous and warm Saturday. Not happenin'.

4' x 6' LOCKDOWN

Now that I have a job which requires I rise at 7 AM, I'm up and at 'em bright and early nowadays whether it's a work day or not. So this morning, I decided it would be laundry day. I don't even want to tell you how long it's been. Notwithstanding my owning tons of underwear, t-shirts and socks, it was getting ridiculous.

So anyway...I gathered all my dirty clothes, dragged the whole load into the elevator, and descended to the basement. But a funny thing happened en route. The elevator quit at the second floor! Just fucking stopped! First, I pressed every button on the panel. Nothing. 

STANDING AT THE CROSSROADS

My irreverent old man used to muse about how fortunate hookers were in that they could sell it...and sell it...and sell it...and still have it. Of course, the same could be said of barbers, manicurists, advisers and really, anybody else in a service industry. 

I recall the moment he made that ridiculous statement today because yesterday I had something of value that two buyers wanted. And I had to choose which to sell it to. I hate how freelance writing works. 

BAG NASTIES/PHONEING WITH CINDY/LOCKDOWN JAM

I'm always looking for a silver lining in a storm cloud. Ya know...like monetizing my stay in prison by writing and doing numerous interviews about Jeffrey Epstein? And I've found one in the covid pandemic.

Back in my lockdown days (I'm talkin' real lockdown - not this bull shit everybody's so freaked out about), prisoners were stuck in a 60 square foot cell (with a bunky) and fed what the officers used to call "bag nasties" (because they came in a bag for one thing. And they were nasty for another).

PAINLESS POTTER

Among the voluminous advice columns to be found on the internet concerning what to take care of before surrendering to prison, almost all advised that a soon-to-be-incarcerated defendant see the dentist before entering lockup. By all accounts, prison dentistry is a nightmare best avoided if possible. I took this sage advice and had my teeth taken care of before my in date.