Excitement in Slacktown

From: iDRMRSR <idrmrsr@subgenius.com>
Newsgroups: alt.slack
Date: Mon, Mar 10, 2003 7:33 PM

So, I've been a miserable widower for several years now. Never really
learned to cook worth a shit. A few specialties, but not enough to
sustain myself for very long.
Dad food, pancakes; oh yeah, that fancy French dessert that is mostly
booze and egg yolks and powdered sugar. Just no meat and potatoes.

Lately I've gotten sick of Stouffer's, Mickey-D's, even the trendy eye
talian joints nearby with prices written out in small print like "twenty
eight and one half". I got a new stove and decided that if I was really
careful and dialed it up to the default setting of 350, I could shove
things in there and cook them and they would be indistinguishable from
real food as long as I didn't burn them.

Well, it's a pretty damn big oven for one person, even of my appetite.
So this weekend, I roasted a whole week's worth of dead things. Beef
Stew. Pork Chops. Meatballs. And carefully froze them when they were
all cooked.

All day I was sitting at my miserable ass fuck of a job thinking one
thought...BEEF STEW! Nothing fancy, six cans of tomato.* plus a pound
of chopped cow and some other miscellaneous canned vegetables. This
stew was cooked for three hours and set in the icebox for a day and a
half. Shoulda been HEAVEN.

But as I drive home here, a cop is blocking EH blvd, right as it were,
near the Stang ranch and my humble condo. Flashing lights. Yellow DO
NOT CROSS tape all over the place. Red cones.

At first, I thought perhaps Stang had finally done it, crossed some
binary NG over his cable modem with OS X causing PHP feedback and a
total implosion of matter and Slack. But no, this damage was a block or
two away. I maneuvered out of the closed street and roundabout to the
iDRMRSR-plex.

When I got there, I hit the remote on the garbage door opener. NADA!
Come to think of it, the other operatives in the complex had barely
managed to get their doors askew at various levels, all apparently
manually. Quickly checking, no interior lights in evidence either. Uh
Oh.

There I was with six quarts of aged BEEF STEW icing away in the fridge,
but NO POWER! Bob Dammit, a taste of what it will be like when the
Iraqi take us over, freezing in the dark.

All my miserable soul needed at that moment was a functioning microwave,
and instead I was in like this darkened cement tube (generally all
condos are like that) which had managed to maintain an internal
temperature of merely 56 degrees. Apparently some idiot was doing some
digging, tree trimming, or perhaps crack driving, causing a
disconnection of the very energy which makes life flow.

Pra Bob, though, that after having to take a leak by the light of a
keychain illuminator (another interesting story), old Sparky once again
came on. I have microwaveage, cable modemage, and finally some warmth
in here. And the BEEF STEW, having sat in the fridge so long now, had
melded its Delmonte granted flavors into a heady warm delight.

But wouldn't it HAVE to turn out that way? The one day in FOUR YEARS
that I actually attempt to COOK myself something, the power goes out.
What are the odds that this is a random occurence and not directly by
the hand of JHVH-1 or even NHGH?

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Original file name: Excitement in Slacktown.txt.txt - converted on Monday, 21 July 2003, 13:47