Self Cannibalism

           

            On Sunday, I found that the problem of the crackling that I’m hearing in my right speaker isn’t just a computer problem, as I’m getting it through the radio too. I’m thinking though that it can’t be the speaker wire since the full sound is still coming through, but with the addition of the crackling. Maybe it’s a problem with my amp. I checked with some online forums and it’s interesting that most people that have similar problems complain about the right speaker as well.

            I decided to print up another fourty page segment of my daily journal so I’ll have a hard copy for my records, but for some reason, as soon as I turned my printer on it began to print the whole second year of my journal. I tried to find the printer manager but it was taking too long so I just turned the printer off and then of course had to pull stuck paper out of the rollers to get rid of the error message. Then I found the printer manager and saw that both the second and third years were in queue. I cancelled those jobs and started over, after having wasted about fifty pieces of printer paper. I probably won’t be caught up in hard copies until well into springtime, since school is starting the Tuesday after next.

            I listened to a couple more episodes of Amos and Andy from early 1945.

In the first, George Kingfish Stevens buys a worm-eaten old desk that the salesman claims belonged to George Washington. Meanwhile, it’s Kingfish’s twentieth wedding anniversary but he’s totally forgotten about it and his wife Sapphire is extremely upset. Amos has a plan to help him remember by planting five of Kingfish’s old love letters to Sapphire in the drawer of his new desk. But Kingfish doesn’t remember them and on top of that, since they are signed “George”, thinks that he’s found love letters written by George Washington.

In the second, Kingfish meets a rich lady that regrets not having children with her late husband and so she wants to adopt a son. Since her husband died fourty years ago, he convinces her that it would be better to adopt Andy, a fourty year old man, because that’s the age her son would be now if she had given birth back then.

In the evening I took an educational bike ride. While riding through the cold up Brock Avenue, I learned that it’s time to start wearing my longjohns; while heading east on Bloor Street I also learned the same thing. On the way home I was singing, so I didn’t feel the cold as much.

I watched three episodes of the most recent season of South Park.

In the first, South Park Elementary got a PC Principal who beat Cartman to a pulp.

In the second, after the Canadian election, hundreds of thousands of Canadians snuck into the US, but there was conflict because the Canadian religion dictates that every day at 8:00 and 11:00 Canadians must face east and play Chuck Mangioni’s “Feels So Good”. Just when the US government was considering building a wall to keep Canadians out, they found out that Canada had already built a wall to keep people from the US out. Mr Garrison went over Niagara Falls in a barrel to sneak over to Canada where he fucked the Canadian president to death.

In the third, South Park tries to clean up its redneck image so a Whole Foods will deem them worthy for one of their stores. They build a trendy arts and food village in the slum where Kenny lives.

I ate the rest of the ribs, but stabbed my thumb with a steak knife while trying to cut the bones apart. I tried to dab the dripping red on my napkin, but some of my blood fell on the meat. I ate it anyway. Is it cannibalism when you eat yourself?