My Life Is Not Politically Correct (Part 1)

I have not made any effort to write or post anything in quite some time, and with so much shit backed up inside my mind waiting to escape, I am almost frightened to once again put pen to paper. During this nine month hiatus from writing my days have been filled with self pity, two-handed masturbation, opiate abuse and laxative consumption, not necessarily in that order.

All this began last summer when my dental problems became so discomforting that some type of action was required on my part. I had been working full time for years without dental insurance, and the exorbitant price my dentist wanted to repair my teeth was far beyond my means. Severe pain can lead you to act in ways that might be considered inappropriate to some people, but for me it was simply a matter of gaining relief from the agony raging inside my mouth.

Last July I committed a misdemeanor for which the court sentenced me to eight months in the county lockup. In jail all my dental work was taken care of for free, thanks to the generosity of taxpayers, and I was able to make some wonderful friends for life. I was released four weeks ago carrying with me the fond memories of Juan’s silky buttocks in my mind, and the grin of a Jack O Lantern on my face.

After discovering that my old employer would not allow me inside the building, I decided to start a work from home business. The sales from my pornographic dolls made out of corn cobs have not taken off like I expected. Except for one loyal customer living at a rectory in Minnesota, my inventory has remained stagnant. The lack of funding and an angry spouse soon caused me to resume my search for employment.

Thanks to my charming smile, I quickly found a new job in Gilatown, a small community located 30 miles south of Phoenix. I’m working as a Radiology Clerk at a place called Radiology Express, and the new position makes me feel redundant. They guarantee patients will get an x-ray within thirty minutes of signing in at the reception desk or they will give you a coupon for $25.00 off on total knee replacement surgery. I like the idea of a free pizza better, but I keep my suggestions to a minimum until I’ve worked there longer.

The sixty minute drive from Tucson to Gilatown gives me an interval to contemplate the monumental waste of time that a job can become in a persons life. People love to remind me how thankful I should be to have a job in these tough times. These useless comments leave me with an overwhelming desire to stick a pencil in the person’s eye, and then remind them to be thankful God gave them a spare.

This morning I made my usual stop at Duncan Donuts for a medium coffee, and began the long haul up I-10 to Gilatown. I washed 10mg of marinol down my throat with the delicious hot coffee. The liquid filled capsule is a synthetic delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) in a light sesame oil. This medication allows me to remain calm at work and fills my day with laughter. It’s my alternative to marijuana until natural cannabis is legalized so the government can tax the shit out of it. The cost of marinol is outrageous, and can run from $200 to $800 dollars a month, but fortunately my friend Carl is a nurse at the Cancer Center of Tucson and he is able to divert the drug. In return I am able to assure him that his family remains safe. For the scrupulous folks reading this and wondering about the poor cancer patients missing their medications, let me remind you that during this economic crisis President Obama has called upon everyone to sacrifice.

The traffic on I-10 was light at 6:30 in the morning which allowed me to put the pedal to the floor of my 1997 Nisson Sentra. Upon reaching my cruising speed of 100mph the valves were making a clattering noise like Dick Cheney’s pacemaker.

One mile after exiting I-10, a green sign on the side of the road welcomes me to Gilatown. Radiology Express is on the right side of the two lane street and further down the road is Sunset Villas a housing development that sprouted up last January, and which remains mostly full in spite of the mortgage crisis. The two floor Radiology Express building was put up shortly after Sunset Villas became a thriving community.

Wally Bruscak Community Park is directly across the street from my workplace. I have asked my fellow employees if anybody knows who this Wally character is, but nobody seems to have the answer. This disturbs me greatly because I feel somebody should know who this stranger is. Sometimes I think that my co-workers know the answer, but won’t tell me. My concern over this issue has not escalated to the point where I have a rash on my belly.

The small park has become the habitat of drug dealers and pedophiles. The peewees are out day and night slinging Mexican tar heroin, meth, weed and cocaine. These unlicensed pharmaceutical representatives are a fine example of how enterprising the youth of this country can be when they put their mind to it. A steady stream of cars flow by the park, most of the customers coming from Chandler a boring community only minutes away where drug use is a way to escape their meaningless lives. Lately a few homeless people have found their way to the park making a natural Feng Shui arrangement.

The border of Mexico up through Tucson and Phoenix has become one of the main pipelines for drugs coming into this country. In return we sell weapons to the drug cartels in Mexico so they can expand their organized criminal enterprises and maintain control. Free trade makes our country stronger.

One of the favorite routes for drug smugglers runs through the Tohono O’odham Indian Reservation, and if the shipment is able to get safely through the reservation it brings them out about 30 miles south of Phoenix which coincidentally is the same distance my workplace is from that city. I have considered renting a van and making a drug run for one of the cartels, but even though they pay well there is no health insurance offered. For that reason I remain a faithful employee of Radiology Express.