HomelessInLaJolla's Journal: 131110 (La Jolla, CA, 92037, war v7.090)

War in La Jolla, seventh year, ninetieth entry

The plot thickens and the grave becomes more thin and watery at the same time.

How are millionaire children born? That's not a dog they're dropping off. The dogs are waiting around all the corners. Good upbringing, bad upbringing, more time to practice, more familiarity with the script, make it through today (or the week, or however long) and you get to be an "adult" (witch's voices have even dropped), making however much money you made, and going for your magic vacation to take special delight in what the world has to offer.

Consider the walkway at Torrey Pines and Girard in La Jolla, CA, 92037. Eggo in drag, with drag, being towed along, drag racing down the walkway, with the conductor at the irrigation box (mounted on the bottom corner of the warehouse building) rinsing them off at each post stop along the way. The walkway has it's own water access at the top and the bottom bowls into an enormous sewer drain. At what age, as a millionaire, did you first encounter the realization that they don't make it through the day? 4-H club children, or others, witch have begun to talk back too much, talk about the money too much, talk about what they do for the money too much... given their opportunity to earn their way out of the pool party.

http://mapfortu.wikidot.com/

At what age, as a millionaire, did you encounter the excuse "that's all _YOU_ are, anyway", but, because you made it thruogh your award winning testing gamut (learn to play dead better than rover, the bionic dog, and learn to do it at all the right times around the block), you have decided that you are the top of the food chain? Other millionaires ride on the excuse that the eggos are only eggos, and the humans procreate. Amusing, that with such audibly immature brains, they pretend to procreate.

The jobbies are kept right next door to hell.
The phonies are kept right next door to hell.
The kingdom of heaven is kept right next door to hell.
The phairies are kept right next door to hell.
Hell itself is boxed in and kept right next door to hell.
The bugs at the bottom of hell are trying to find the way out, but they're far too small and you don't have much left for them to feed on by the time you make it down there.

The bugs think of you as overly fattened bugs. They don't understand the transformation which allows you to well up at the eyes. That makes them uncomfortable so, as any good surface scientists do when caught in the box of corporate demands, they take your eyes out to make you stop doing that. Down in hell the dogs will have the eyes and the eggo won't. Call it a privelege of your new station and rank. You will be able to eat your eggo without the haunting lights.

Some day, maybe, your voice will drop. Until then you have this playpen with eggos and remote control carnival props to keep you occupied.

6-to-12, age and weight, it's all the same at the millionaire mobile dog wash meet to benefit children's charities.

Millionaires then have a choice to take a job watching the jobbies (or being led around following one of the dead ones in training exercises) or, if they prove themselves to be up to the mission, taking part in the daily eggo theatre shows running in all the millionaire areas of the world. Dress the eggos up as the jobbies being competed that day and, if your eggo lost that bad, then perhaps it is the same as one of the millionaires themselves eating the home plate for your life. Of course they feed your old clothes to the dogs; good thing I began sewing all of my ritz and keeping them in open air. Have my socks... walking up or down you're getting the bottom of the column or proof of how much better than you I am.

How do you like the chocolate on your eggo? Sprinkles? Drizzled? Or utterly caked and covered in it?
How do you prefer your eggo cooked? Bothered? Agitated? or scared f*ing sh*less?

Oh yes. Uncle Sam wants you. Wants you to be the e. l. The eggo (what was it?). Well, the first eggo. Because the first one always gets stuck (for eunuch'd eggos), and if they open the party with a dog then, well, it's a dog. So, in the eggo parties, they probably don't want to lose too many of their own, and likely they train other eggo to want to be the one to do that. Unless one of their own ended up getting nominated through whichever of the thousands of methods available in the sphinx.

Again, consider how special La Jolla is. That wall at the walkway. Where's Wald-o? In the sea of the other eggo being rinsed down the sewer.

Other areas across the nation and globe have similar architectural setups.