3rd & 4th & 5th of July: Odds & Ends & Instant Gratification Minus Sanity

I long for a hagiolatry for drivers' past as we the living endure insult and affront.  Could we burn incense, lowering our eyes for all those crucified upon the wheel, whispering incantations to the holy?  An average shift can be a descent to perdition, Charon waiting paddle in hand.  And now we have Teamsters and minor government officials elected or not deciding and guiding our fate while holding little clue concerning our real and non-conceptual reality.  There are hells and then there is a particular parental version obsequious in its searing radiance asking why aren't you grateful you little prigs?  If I have a prayer may everyone be Jainist cautiously assessing each step sparing ants and cabbies alike.  Such are my sentiments after two additional taxi days.  No thank you please. And even if the deranged passenger offers not once but twice to provide minus strings a blow job you may again briefly close your eyes wishing for a better world for all concerned.  Sorrow takes many forms, taxi providing more examples than I might choose to sample, the traveling salesman sticking his dusty shoe in the door.  Whatever is being sold, I am not interested be it today or tomorrow or that nearly full moon yesterday.  The product is shoddy.  The warranty complete bunk.  All guarantees bogus.  Nothing worth repeating as it spirals toward a molten center.