“You got me runnin’ goin’ out of my mind...You got me thinkin’ that I’m wastin’ my time.” It’s not usual, at least since I started writing this blog a little over a week ago, that I make two submissions in one day. But we’ll say I was re-inspired to make a special dedication today for “Ulysses,” my special Civil War soldier friend. And also my dear friend Christina, who is only one of about four people who actually read my blog and is bitter she had to work on Good Friday. You see, there’s this crazy guy, an older gentlemen, who is one of the “delivery people” for the newspaper who we see pass through the newsroom just about on a daily basis. We get several different types of personalities who walk by our desks every day. Some make us wish there was a Slip N’ Slide into a pool of piranhas at the front door for all those asking, “Why you gots to print lies?”’ Then there’s all the Girl and Boy Scouts taking their tours and learning about the roles of the reporters in the newsroom that makes me want to grab some 5-year-old kid out of the crowd by the arm and demand, “Where’s my peanuts?!” But unlike my superiors and many of my co-workers, most days Ulysses is the only person who actually talks to me an acknowledges my existence. For some background, Ulysses is one of those war re-enactor people. You can spot him many days wearing his full, yes “Full” Union Army uniform, but if nothing else, he’s always sportin’ his old hat from the 107th NY Regiment. My guess is that the dude has seen some action in both this life and the last. The only reason why he talks to me is because one day I did him a favor and wrote up a story announcing some special Civil War re-enactment that he and his fellow crazies were participating in. Yes, that is part of my job and one of the many daily reasons why I imagine myself laughing a Joker’s cackle as I face the train head-on. It’s coming it’s coming! The end — Thank God! But no matter what you say about Mr. Civil War Soldier, and believe me you could say a lot, he will usually say hello to me and ask how I’m doing in between his mumbles and ramblings, which I could only imagine is something about rustling up the troops and kicking some Confederate ass! But today, unfortunately Ulysses appeared very frazzled and stressed as he flew by my desk, probably to go complain to some incompetent idiot over in the circulation department. “Mumble, mumble, mumble...Gotta take aspirin...mumble, mumble.” I don’t know what those Damn Yankee voices were saying inside his head, but obviously they needed some quick relief! Did they even have aspirin back in 1862? All I know was that I looked totally wide-eyed at my co-worker at the desk directly across from me and was like “Whoa!” I was also thinking, “Um, I was just going to reach for some aspirin from my purse ‘cause I got a headache...Coincidence or just plain creepy?!” Anyway, I felt bad my buddy Ulysses was obviously having a bad day, especially seeing it’s Friday. I feel bad that every time he walks through the newsroom people make fun of him because he’s a little “different.” But you don’t know, maybe in Ulysses’ past life he pissed on somebody’s cannon shot wound and prevented some guy from having his right arm amputated. That would make him a hero, so you know what? Don’t bring him down! And Christina, I don’t blame you for being pissed you had to work today. Me too! We’re not like teachers and work so many weeks or a month at a time and automatically get a day off or week of vacation, or some days to go kiss as or blow the administrators aka a “superintendent’s conference day.” No, we work for Nazis so like those Union Army soldiers with their arms and feet tanglin’ off, we still have to trudge through the battlefield every day. General’s orders. So don’t bring her down! Today, the computer tech at work asked during lunch if I smelled “skunk,” and then another woman who works at the front of the building mentioned the smell of skunk that came in on one of the customers. Well, guessing by the cliental we usually get in this establishment, I’d say the booze and the meth made them fall face first into their cat’s kitty litter box and that’s where they slept all morning. You spend 12 hours in a kitty litter box, face-first in cat piss, and see how you smell. SO DON’T BRING THEM DOWN! Some old guy with bad hand writing who can’t hear, wearing a black sweater with orange cars on it, comes in and wants to know after you scream at him three times: “Do I have to write this over?” “Yes you have to write it over!” “So I need me to write this over?” “Yes, you need to re-write this before we can accept it.” “What?” “YOU HAVE TO RE-WRITE IT!” “So I need to re-write it?” “YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!” Just cuz he’s deaf, stupid and has obvious poor taste in fashion, don’t laugh at him. Don’t bring him down! (Damn, no wonder why all I do is look forward to getting drunk when I leave this place). So I leave you with this on this Friday...no matter how crazy, deaf, angry, bitter, frustrated or ugly-looking someone is, don’t be so quick to judge. You can’t judge a book by it’s cover unless you’ve at least thumbed through some of the pages. Unless you have all the facts, you can’t possibly make a true opinion. So I’ll tell you once more, before you get off the floor...Don’t Bring Me DOWN!
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