Archive for the ‘life’ Category

@ your service

Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

I’m doing customer service at the bookstore now.  It’s kinda horseshit but it’s kinda okay.  It’s clear there are a lot of sad/mad people out there that feel completely abused and trampled upon by society (“the world” ["society"]) and feel that plunking down $$$ (more like $ or .$ even) entitles them to let out the frustration that usually manifests itself in crying jags and/or frenzied, chafing masturbation and/or bullets fired into mirrors, as sharp-tongued critiques of business practices.

But — but! — there are also weird moments of intimacy passing through the avenues of commerce.  To wit, a person in Hawaii buys a book, sends me a thank-you note about the book, says, hey, you guys do super work and maybe I’ll donate my books to you when I die, though I live in Hawaii so shipping may be a problem.  Well, I thought this guy was just over the moon with  our wonderful book-selling, so I’m just, like, sure, you can donate your books to us when you die, shipping may be a problem, but, hey, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.  Then Hawaii writes back that her brain is full of tumors and she was actually supposed to be dead two years ago but she stopped chemo and started using a vaporizer and she sent along this cartoon she made:

THC cartoon

Well, this is more than I was bargaining for.  More beauty.  More meaning.  I’ve kept up the lines of communication.  We’ve talked about her Uncle Harvey who apparently befriended some stereotypes in New York’s Chinatown.  We’ve both agreed you’ve gotta stay away from that Waikiki bullshit.  And of course we’ve both agreed that THC does, in fact, pass the brain/blood barrier.

To wit:

prince smaller still with text

seemed like a good idea at the time

double whammy grammy slammy

Thursday, October 1st, 2009

So today (probably yesterday by the time you read this) is (was) a pretty busy day for me, getting-published-wise.  I’ve got a wee bit of personal essay on Opium magazine’s website.  It’s about a painting that has been a part of my family possibly for longer than I have been.  In case you’re curious (and for a little behind the scenes action), here’s a photo of the painting:

who's that lady?  *sexy* lady.

who's that lady? *sexy* lady.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough for one day, I got a piece in the Travel section of the LA Times about Cape May, NJ, and the birdwatching and Victorian architecture mecca that it is.

Me tired now.  Me go to bed.

so this is my birthday, and what have i done?

Friday, September 11th, 2009

On 09/09/09 (also known as Wednesday), I turned the big 3-2.  Nothing of particular significance in that milestone, except that it roughly coincided with me landing full-time employment for the first time in over a year (and the first steady gig for me in NYC).

huddle up

huddle up

The job itself is not ideal.  The pay is not great.  The work is not editorial, which was sort of my entire reason for moving here in the first place.  But it is in a bookstore, in fact, the bookstore where I’ve been volunteering for some six months.  So there is some sense of payoff for sweat stains and backaches.  And the bookstore is actually pretty cool, with lots of literary events and concerts (even Bjork).  And it’s a non-profit operation with its sights set on eradicating homeless and HIV/AIDS, so there’s that feel-goodness.  It undoubtedly carries more cache than slinging books at Barnes & Noble or Borders.  And it will help me scratch that nagging itch of “gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job,” which will, in turn, allow me to focus on longer term writing projects such as another book (Deuced 2: Electric Boogaloo?).

the paper chase

the paper chase

And, really, most of my writing life has been spent daily (or nightly) toiling in the salt mines and then cranking out prose in my free time.  A Bukowskian existence of sorts (but without the scarring acne).  It wasn’t until The Los Angeles Times came a’callin’ that I ever smithed words for a well-beyond-livable income.

a fish tale

a fish tale

Which brings me back to birthdays.  September 2007.  The big 3-0 looming large.  A true milestone.  One christened by t-shirts and coffee mugs and knowing looks and nudging elbows and taking stock of one’s life.  I was eying my fourth decade of life saddled with a sizable (though slowly diminishing) credit card debt and a full-time job closed captioning pornography by candlelight (well, at night, anyway).  Not a horrible life, but not a wildly satisfying one, either.  Then, suddenly, my stock shot up.  Just four days before I turned 30, I landed the aforementioned sweet LA Times gig.  A daily newspaper.  A 130-some year old paper.  A fat paycheck.  Debts receded.  Savings ballooned (when you’re starting around zero, ballooning isn’t hard to do).  I was in an office with a bunch of creative people.  Things felt right.  But before I turned 31, I would be out on my ass, thanks to corporate restructuring, executive lunacy, a changing market and a complete lack of foresight.

whos got a tiger by the tail?

who's got a tiger by the tail?

Which brings me to September 2008.  Jobless, heartbroken, humiliated (I understand it was just business,  but the whole affair left me with career blue balls), a 31-year-old me pulled up stakes and headed east to New York City, land of plenty, publishing capital of the world, desperate to parlay my brief tenure at LAT into another sweet editorial gig.  Thanks to the sweetness of my recently departed gig, I had money in the bank and a fat (phat?) unemployment claim, so, while I didn’t land any editorial gigs (sweet or otherwise) thanks to an imploding national/global economy and the continuing downward spiral of the publishing industry, I was able to explore this amazing city, as well as the surrounding majesty of the East Coast (D.C., Balto, Montauk, Mystic, Vermont, Hudson Valley, Chesapeake Bay, Cape May, hey, hey, hey) without fretting too much (though, admittedly, I did find time for some frets).  But man cannot live by unemployment claim (or sporadic freelance gigs) alone.

out to sea

out to sea

Which brings me to September 2009.  After some six months volunteering and taking the occasional lumps at the aforementioned bookstore, I had made a good name for myself (or at least my name was finally known in the bookstore [in truth, that part didn't take six months]) and was tipped off about an employment opportunity with the store.  The first one slipped through my grasp (a part-time gig),  but then an email alerted me to a second, this one  full-time (though, technically, temporary [a three-month prove-your-worth period, which could very well lead to ongoing goings-on]).  I went for it.  I got it.  In this depressed/recessed/shy economy which has seen people living in cars and tents and eating dirt and each other (last two things being totally fabricated), it isn’t so much to ask of me to take a pay cut (even from my unemployment checks) and roll up my sleeves and get some goddam work done.

hi-ho, hi-ho

hi-ho, hi-ho

Besides, there’s always September 2010, when I will turn 33, the age of a crucified Jesus H. Christ.

do you want it?  you gotta want it!

do you want it? you gotta want it!

man bites dog

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009

So I was volunteering at the book store the other day and came across tthe funny book below.  Made of folded-over and stapled-together 8 1/2 by 11 pieces of paper, the publication bore its full original asking price, a seeming indication of lasting value (though my employee discount and a sale that week brought it to a more manageable 26 cents).

Vroom Drive Comix cover

But the book’s retention of value got me thinking about my own foray into self-publishing.  I looked up “Deuced”s ISBN number on Amazon and then entered it into the book store’s pre-screening software.  (The computer tells you whether to keep a book, send it to a different used book retailer who will sell it at a lower price but give us a cut of the loot, or not keep it all; the last option meaning the book in question went into the “TG” box, which meant either “to go” or “total garbage,” depending on your level of cynicism.)

Vroom Drive Comix page 1

I held my breath as the computer processed the number.  Was I a keeper?  Processing, processing, processing (the book store computers are a bit aged).  Then, finally, a response: “Keep it!” (emphasis not in the original).

Vroom Drive Comix page 3

The decision no doubt came from the fact my Canadian publisher insists that everyone make good money off each sale, which means they keep prices high so there’s plenty to go around.  Oh, Canada, your brutal Socialism gives everyone but the consumer a good deal.  My existential horror (paperback) novel bears a bloated list price of $26.50.

Vroom Drive Comix page 4

At my 10 year high school reunion a few years ago, I was hawking my freshly minted tome (a box of which sat in my friend’s car [I was on a book tour, with readings at the St. Paul Literacy Council and a futon shop]) and told an old classmate the price and he said, “That doesn’t sound like a independent novel.”  I guess he’s not familiar with the economics of mass production.

Vroom Drive Comix page 5

But truth be told, it does seem like more of a $10 book.  I think that’s a nice price.  Hell, maybe even $5.  Something nice and simple and in bill denomination.  Amazon, in its infinite wisdom, now offers my book on its Kindle for a mere $7.99.  I just wonder what I get off of a Kindle sale.  I have this sneaking suspicion it’s zero.

Vroom Drive Comix page 6

Anybody have a Kindle?  I hated the idea of them, then started to maybe warm up to the possiblity, then I saw the screen looks like a fucking Gameboy.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Lets do the Mario all together now.
Let’s do the Mario all together now.

EXPERIENCED, CONCEPTUALIZED WRITTEN AND (BADLY) BLOGGED

by

PerPearBear

ghost hole

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

What is a ghost hole?  It’s a nebulous concept.  Webster’s Dictionary defines a “ghost hole” as… well, no, Webster’s Dictionary doesn’t define a ghost hole at all.  It’s the name of a ride at Coney Island.  Wikipedia tells me it used to be called the “hell hole,” but I guess that language wasn’t family friendly enough.  I didn’t even go in the ghost hole, but was mesmerized by this weird animatronic display in front of the ride:

YouTube Preview Image

What is going on here?  Is it a suggestion that the ride will make you so scared you will puke and shit violently (if liquidly), basically a complete meltdown of the gastrointestinal system?  I’m going to say yes.

the plot thickens

Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
dolla dolla bills, yall

it's a gas

This morning I finally got a reply from Ginger Prior, that minx:

Subject: FINAL INSTRUCTIONS ON MONEYGRAM EVALUATION
From: Ginger Prior (Add as Preferred Sender) ?
Date: Wed, Jun 17, 2009 8:52 am
To: perry@perrycrowe.com

Perry Crowe,
payment for the evaluation of Money Gram services has been
mailed out and will be delivered via UPS today. You are to cash the
Check of $4,800 at your bank and head to any MoneyGram location in
your area. You are expected to Evaluate any MoneyGram Location in your
area and send your report immediately.

HOW TO CARRY OUT THE TASK

After cashing the payment you will deduct your $400 commission, after
which you will be left with $4,400 , You are now expected to head to
your location with $4,400. MoneyGram will charge you about $150 for
the transfer. We expect you to bargain with the operator concerning
the charges to see if it can be reduced or not . After all deductions
you are expected to transfer about $4,250. The funds should be sent to
Gallopolis, OH. the name of our Receiving agent in Ohio is below

Name : RETTA HUTCHINS
Address : 815 3rd ave
City : Gallopolis
State : Ohio
Zipcode : 45631

NB :

We expect you to be very vigilant and time cautious while you carry
out your task. The following should be put into consideration the
following

(1.) Overall time duration of the transfer

(2.) Exact time the funds was transferred

(3.) Customer service performance and customer friendliness

Every activity of Mystery Shoppers remains a secret between you and
Mystery Shoppers. As as the company reserves the right to every
documentation and information which you gather on behalf of the
company.

YOU ARE TO GET BACK WITH THE FOLLOWING DETAILS

(a) The 8 digit transfer code or Reference number and the exact amount
sent after the transfer was made (this should be to the nearest cent)

(b) A comprehensive and detailed report should be sent my email
immediately you evaluate the location. Additional remarks or comments
will be appreciated in your final report.

(c) The name and address of the locations should be added along with
the name of the attendant .

We expect you to get it done immediately, so we can file our report to
meet our deadline. I will be looking forward to your report.

Ginger Prior
Mystery Shoppers

Your mission, if you choose to accept it...

"Your mission, if you choose to accept it..."

And, sure, enough I walk to the kitchen a little later and this envelope had been slid under my door:

time is money

it's what's inside that counts

They splurged and went with Next Day Air. Hmm, maybe they are legitimate. But I’ve always been a little suspicious of chickenscratch. Like it denotes a diseased, rudimentary mind at work. Like Gummo. Or a Troma film. I’m not saying the people behind Gummo or Troma have diseased or rudimentary minds. Just that the end results feel like being raped by Sloth from the Goonies.

Hey, you guys (Im going to force myself on you)!

"Hey, you guys (I'm going to force myself on you)!"

Still, I wanted to see this scam in its totality, so I tore open the envelope and feasted my eyes on a $4,800.00 cashier’s check:

the poisoned apple

the poisoned apple

Okay, suddenly I’m not only dealing with Mystery Shoppers, an apparent division of General Dynamics Systems (of Sterling Heights, Michigan)…

View Larger Map

…but the money is coming from University Federal Credit Union in Austin, Texas…


View Larger Map

And the check is signed by Bill Johns (more chickenscratch), and has a remitter by the name of Manuel Alejandro Munoz.

And, of course, the check is actually made out to “Perry Browe” (pronounced “bro”), which is a pretty cool name. I wonder if it would prohibit me from being able to deposit the check. Not that I would. No, I’m afraid this is the end of the line for you and me, Ginger Prior. You have a fun, kinda saucy name and I can imagine you coming to the main stage, but then I think you would get there and you would be some guy named Bill Johns and you would knife me in the face.

would you fuck me?  id fuck me.

"would you fuck me? i'd fuck me."

I feel kinda good about getting these guys to sink the money into sending this check next-day air, and I wonder if they’ll follow up with me when I never cash the check. It’s just creepy to see the physical evidence of these scammers’ existence, thinking about Ginger Johns hunched over a desk, scratching out my name and address.

Like Cara said after my earlier post, who has time to come up with these scams, set up the background, like General Dynamics Systems?  Interestingly, GoogleMaps says that General Dynamic Systems is closed. Sneaky, Billy boy.  Drag the good name of General Dynamic Systems through the mud just because they’re not around to defend themselves.  I mean, those people have been creating and implementing generally dynamic systems since you were in short pants and now you’re gonna do them like that?

I do like the non-specific nature of the name, though.

“What kind of systems do you work with?”

“Dynamic.”

“Oh, really? In what way are they dynamic?”

“Oh, you know, generally.”

I used to work at a company named “PeopleSupport.” We had a company picnic once, hosted by a party company called “Event Solutions.” Like mayo on wonder bread served by a robot.

I’m tired of all these scams.  There’s that bullshit with the robocalls about auto-warranty.  And there’s one about credit cards.  I pressed the button to talk to an agent on that one and I asked what card they were referring to and the guy said, “Any of them.”  Holy shit.  The scammers are such dicks, but they’re also so lazy about the scam that you almost feel that anyone who really gets taken by one of them really should’ve figured it out beforehand.  But it sucks because these scams put everyone (or most people) on guard with telemarketers and, even if the telemarketer has a legitimate offer, you just feel like they’re trying to take you.  It’s like walking the streets in L.A.  Anyone who actually tries to talk to you is going to end up asking you for money, so even if a person has a legitimate need, you’re probably going to just ignore them.  The bad apples spoil the bunch and the world grows a little colder.

i just dont want to walk.

"i just don't want to walk."

video killed the blogosphere star

Monday, June 15th, 2009

It’s taken a lot of blood, sweat and hours of time on the telephone line, but here is my first video blog entry.  Call it cheap, call it guerrilla, just be sure to turn up the volume and not expect too much.

Note: It should have closed captions, so if it doesn’t, click that button with the up-pointing triangle in the lower right hand corner of the video and select CC.

seven dollar hole in my pocket

Thursday, June 11th, 2009

Would you enter a contest hosted by this man:

slick

slick

Well, I did. Here were the rules, but to summarize, the winner was going to be selected on the basis of how much this guy, Brandon Scott Gorrell, “enjoyed” the story. So already we’re playing pretty fast and loose. But still, it was only $7 to enter, and it seemed like a fun, sort of grassroots-y kind of contest, a contest I had found out about by reading up on Tao Lin, a writer whom I discovered at a reading at the charity bookstore at which I would eventually volunteer and be crucified.

dont do me like that

don't do me like that

I like Lin’s work, at least his poetry specifically, and his blog, to which I already linked. He has a really weird sense of humor mixed in with social dysfunction and depression and technology and self-promotion. He’s sorta shameless in focusing on his career as much as his writing, but, hey, that’s the modern writer, right? All Twittered out with Gmail chats and Facebookings. Lin even sold a MySpace page for, like, $8100. Sold “shares” in his next book, made, like, $12,000. Gotta respect the entrepreneurialism. This Brandon Scott Gorrell has a book or two coming out from Lin’s publishing company, Muumuu House and it’s pretty clear he and Lin are thick as thieves, with Gorrell’s writing a pretty good facsimile of Lin’s.

ruh roh

the mentor/protege relationship

So now, taking into account the curious business sense and grandstanding of the Muumuu House crew and the close relationship between Gorrell and Lin, one could’ve potentially seen how this was all going to turn out, especially with the rules’ ambiguous “I will pick the story I enjoy the most” criteria (although, really, isn’t that how every writing contest is decided? i guess this one was tricky because it was just one person doing the deciding) as well as Gorrell’s declaration *somewhere* that he was going to let Muumuu House employees enter. Lin even said he would probably enter, probably use a pseudonym.

putting the pieces together

putting the pieces together

Well, you can see where this is going, and so, yes, in fact, Lin did enter and win, though apparently it was more that he “gave” a story to his girlfriend and then she entered the story under her name. Since it wasn’t under Lin’s name, the argument goes that Gorrell didn’t know that it was Lin and so it’s not like the whole thing was totally fixed. And, besides, Gorrell insisted that he had been upfront and totally explained the rules, the rules that allowed and encouraged these kinds of shenanigans. Anyway, the whole thing ignited a shitstorm on the comments section Gorrell’s blog (which was probably the whole idea, I suppose).

"i'm gonna live forever, baby, remember my name!"

The shit goes on and on, but for the most part, the people who were most angry were people who hadn’t entered the contest, but had just heard about how the contest had turned out. Which does sound like absolute bullshit. But I guess Gorrell laid out the rules, so, really, I guess he’s washed his hands of any wrongdoing, other than being just too fucking cute and clever in the retarded chic that seems to be consuming the younger generation. Really, I am around 10+ years older than most of the other contestants, so I was probably barking up the wrong tree to begin with. All I know is, I may be a little retarded, but, folks, I keep it classy. This shit was not classy.

i believe the children are our future

i believe the children are our future

Anyway, Megan Boyle and Michael Inscoe, a couple other losers from the contest have put up a site to collect any other contest losers who want to display their work (and maybe tug a little promotion for themselves after getting jerked around by Gorrell/Lin/Muumuu). So there you can find “The King,” a story I had originally published in Mr. Judas anyway. The version I submitted to the contest has an abbreviated ending.

self... esteem... shrinking...

self... esteem... shrinking...

*advanced* technical support

Sunday, June 7th, 2009

In the interest of continued innovation, I am trying to create some lively(?), self-produced videos for this space. With my natural predilection towards guerrilla/cheap endeavors, I am attempting to utilize the tools readily available to me (i.e.; using my cell phone’s “camcorder” function) to create said videos. Shooting the footage actually works quite well, in its limited, low-rez, lonelygirl15 capacity. But problems have arisen in the “getting the video onto my computer” phase.

so... close...

so... close...

Thanks to a mildly helpful Sprint customer service operator, I was able to connect my phone to my computer via a USB cable, which allowed me to easily pull the *photos* off my phone, yet the videos were inaccessible. After placing me on several holds and insisting that, well, this really *should* work, the operator finally admitted defeat and transferred me to technical support. Whom had I been speaking to before? Apparently someone with the best of intentions, but perhaps no specific training in what may be called “the technical field.”

Im going to put you a quick hold.  Okay?

"I'm going to put you a quick hold. Okay?

Well, fine, onto the experts (“experts”). I explained the situation to my new phone friend, went over the steps I had already tried with the previous Sprint representative, and almost immediately the tech supporter admitted defeat and said I would be transferred to “advanced tech support.”

tomorrow, today.

tomorrow, today.

I have to admit, I had high hopes for this advanced technical support. I pictured Tom Cruise in Minority Report (“There is… no question.”)

And the guy on the phone had the appropriate swagger of someone with one foot in the future. There was a backdoor way of getting the video off my phone, he casually informed me. Would I like to know it? Yes. Yes, I would. Well, he told me how to get tothe picturemail page on the Sprint website (which I had already been to), and I did see the video, and a button that said “save to my computer.” So it seemed my problems were over and I thanked the guy and hung up.

fools gold

fool's gold

Alas, when I actually tried to save the video to my computer, the site was unresponsive as the video just constantly said “processing…” and, you know, never finished processing, which I suppose is what the “…” meant. So I’m back on the phone with Sprint, trying to get some customer service and technical support, giving my number and name and pin number and explaining the situation over and over and over, going through the same channels, handed from one person to another, each one admitting defeat and passing the buck, until I’m on hold for “advanced” technical support and then the line clicks dead and an automated voice urges me to hang up and try my number again. Getting a little irritated now. I wait for whomever put me on hold to call back, since they must have number, as I have given it out over and over and over again thus far. But no call. So back on the phone and dialing Sprint. Back through the same prompts. Back through the same hoops. I get to I reach advanced technical support. We run through the same options again, a dance whose choreography I can recite by heart, including the lack of success which greets every suggestion. Finally the advanced technical support guy confesses, well, he’s googled everything he can think of to help me, but he’s just not finding anything. I call for professional help and I get a guy googling shit. Hell, I could do advanced tech support! You could do it. Everyone is doing it. You and I have the exact same tools at our disposal as Sprint advanced technical support. Google is the great equalizer. Anyway, the guy says he’s going to put me on hold and try to find a colleague who is more knowledgeable about Macs (I am so high maintenance!). But it’s a hold I’d never awaken from.

corporately sponsored euthenasia

corporately sponsored euthenasia

The line goes dead again and still I have no answers. And Sprint is not utilizing my call back number. So I slowly climb the Jacob’s ladder of Sprint customer service operators again until an operator tells me she’s transferring me to advanced technical support and the line goes dead. Again. My phone company, specifically the tech support people within my phone company, lack the technical know-how (no how?) to successfully transfer a phone call.

Right this way, sir.

"Right this way, sir."

The whole thing has gotten a bit too Sisyphean, so I gave up for the day. And yet I still needed to figure out how to get the goddam videos off my phone and onto my computer. So the next day, I set my jaw and started the process again. I tersely though not angrily explained the situation and how I needed advanced tech support from someone familiar with Macs and mention how I have repeatedly gotten disconnected. The operator and I reach a consensus that that shouldn’t be happening and that the operators I have been talking to should have, at the very least, called me back.

Hey, Im on your side.

"Hey, I'm on your side."

She does manage to get me through to an advanced technical support guy, but she doesn’t believe that there are any specific Mac-savvy folks to be found. The advanced technical support guy gets on the line in a hillbilly drawl and we take up the timeless dance once more. Try this, try that, I’ve tried it, how about this, doesn’t work, maybe this? He slowly repeats several keywords as he no doubt hunts and pecks them into the google search window. His remarks almost all have a coda of “lemme/I’ll do this real quick” and “and stuff like that.” It was really an amazing experience in rhetoric. Somehow his saying “real quick” as he prepared to do something was supposed to convey to me that he was, in fact, working at maximum speed and efficiency. And his tagging of “and stuff like that” was usually almost non-sequitur but somehow hinted that the vastness of his knowledge and/or efforts was beyond his ability to express (or at least to express it real quick). In the end, he basically said I had to download a driver from the phone manufacturer’s website, though a visit to the website showed no drivers were available for download. I suggested maybe the phone, or at least the video function, was somehow not compatible with Macs. The guy conceded that, yeah, maybe that was true. Has no one ever had this problem before? I asked. No. No, they hadn’t, he replied. I guess maybe all self-respecting Mac users have migrated to iPhones.

I am a Mac.

Justin Long, your soup is ready.

So here I am, still unable to upload my videos directly from my phone to my computer. I did find a way to pull the video off the Sprint website by using Devo’s laptop, then emailing the saved video from her computer to myself and then downloading the video from my email on my own computer. I know there is a much simpler way to achieve my goal, but I haven’t been able to properly google it yet.

caught between google and the deep blue sea

caught between google and the deep blue sea

all good things must come to an end

Monday, May 18th, 2009

Remember this awesome Dewars ad on the building across the street from me:

death of a dream

death of a dream

Well, no sooner had I finally snapped a photo of it than someone (presumably the owners of the garage on the other side of the wall) painted over this amazing piece of art so that it now looks like this:

the nothing

the nothing

They didn’t repaint the entire wall. They just specifically painted over the coolest part of the wall. In gray. Gray that doesn’t match the other gray (which I suppose would be impossible with the weathering effect of… um… weather). Why the paint job/censorship? Methinks someone objected to the message of the ad, as the artistic quality cannot be in question. They probably objected to the very laissez faire attitude I found so heartening. This is New York after all, where you’ve got to fight for your right to party (and by “party” I mean “sustain a tolerable existence”), so you can’t afford to be doing/being/saying nothing and you sure as hell can’t avoid criticism.

Excuse me, sir, but I take issue with your conduct.

"Excuse me, sir, but I take issue with your conduct."

I will have to follow up with the owners of the garage to understand the motivation behind the painting’s removal. Maybe someone is a recovering alcoholic. Maybe they’re more Jim Beam drinkers. Or Evan Williams. Or maybe they’re just pricks.