DOGGEREL DAY AFTERNOONS – IN FACT IT’S A GAS

unstead homeses

It’s always fun in the neighborhood. In fact it’s a Gas. So said the man reading the water meter this Monday past.  I immediately called BGE and reported the incident.  A technician appeared in less than half an hour. He checked inside the house and we were clean.  He checked inside the neighbors house and there was a problem.  A two man crew appeared soon thereafter, complete with truck trailer and a mechanized gizmo large enough for a driver.  The two men spent the next several hours digging a hole. A relief crew appeared at dusk and continued the excavation.  A flatbed bearing heavy metal plates appeared and dropped the cargo.  The two man crew continued the excavation until 2200 hours.2890090_INFACTIT'SAGAS_BLOGCHI

Tuesday morning a larger crew arrived and by the end of the day the leaks were repaired. The gas pipe is nearly 100 years old. Baltimore has some of the oldest gas pipes in the world I was told.  A joint was sealed with epoxy and the neighbor with the bad gas pipe had their hose re-reamed with plastic tubing. It's good to have a neighbor that deals with raw fish for consumption with a good smeller for such things. The neighbor's house had become saturated with Gas I was told. Oh my. These are the people that had me arrested with false statements.  Of course, without communication lies breed more lies and the imagination wreaks havoc. There's no irony here -- Just Fracking facts.  This is ultimately about the environment after all --  And the threat of Ten Years in jail. There's some methane in any madness. WEBFRONTPOSTERBTW besides posting pictures that I took, I also post images and links of works that I have written or produced.  I will benefit from direct sales, otherwise my lack of knowledge and isolation or alienation produces no income for me or mayopia.com at this point in time.

After the encounters in the fingerprint room, after a short wait in the hall, where I had time to practice the Tai-chi Ch'uan form, sans hand cuffs nor shackles, we were allowed to make phone calls for two minutes on phones on the wall in the Dark Hall. A guard directed me to a phone that I knew was broken.

"This doesn't work," I said.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"I've been here before," I told him: Actually about three hours earlier when I was allowed to use the phones before 1700 and reached people at work, the only two numbers that were relevant that I remembered. I was tempted to call Technical Support in Bulgaria since I easily remembered the HELP line but sharing a concrete cell with a Russian spy complicated any implications. At least in my mind, uncomplicated by any implications.I got no problem with government workers -- They work for US right? Can't we have them fired?

When let back into the cell Vonnegut was no longer there. That's when Frank Needy entered. "Another white guy?" I commented. "What is this with all white guys?"

"It's not segregation," the guard playfully answered. These guys actually had some sense of humor. I was impressed.   3553SAINT_BLOGCHI

It was the first time I actually saw Frank Needy, the only other white guy besides Boris and me and the one earlier cuffed to the property window who had disappeared into some very vague system. The brief contact with Carl Rover and his buddy Mittle (Name Tags) looking for a match, must have set some bells off. The 'Sad Old Man' that I am, bordering on senility so there is no doubt that I'm writing fiction only mirroring any reality by coincidence since no one ever admits to any conspiracy -- even when conspiracy is as obvious as the fluctuation of the stock market -- I felt comfortable that maybe someone was actually paying attention. -- Bend over and spread those cheeks. -- Didn't happen. Dinner was, however, served. -- Ode Baloney. -->>Duda Duda

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