Walter Miller's Homepage

It's probly gointo get allot worse before it gets better.

Late Septembor 1998 Update

Page 1 of 7

Live from the Nework New Jersey airport hotel!

My wiseass brother and sister inlaw think there so danm smart: They do not realize that me and Dad trackad them down.

My disfunctionol family saga contineus, in its estabblished pattern of one part horroble monster movie, one part Faulnker tragedy, and one part realy awful 1980s-era-Burt Reynoldsesque-madcap cross country car chase film complete with witty toilat humor sight gags, fast mucsle cars, pretty womon and dumbfoundad cops; Exept here in real life there are no jiggly Loni Anderson types in bikinis bouncin around--only my the homely males of my family, in our Wife Beater(TM) tees. And who normolly have nothin witty to say at all, unless it is one of Granfather's creul insults. And did I also mentoin, where the toilit humour isnt funny at all, but just plain disguousting? THAT TOO.

But first, a breif program note:
Finally: I actualy have a good ecxuse for being late with this updatte. The reasen is, my notebook computer broke and I am travoling with my old Toshiba that i havent touched in a year and the onley ISP software on it is the old Prodigy. Many thanks to Robert in Chicago who on short nottice gracuiosly loaned me one of his Progidy ID's to get this update done.

My Dad and I quickley found out where my brother and uncle Zeke were hiding Granfather.

They were very easy to track. (And not mereley becuase Granfather smells so bad eithor). My sisterin law and Uncle William stayed behind in Texas.

To recap what hapenned:

My brother, sisterinlaw and Granfather's two brothers kidnapped Granfather with the plan of deliverring the old basterd to the Netherlands where by prearrangement plans were made to have him put to sleep like someone's old sickley pet in a degrading but humaine case of legallized youthenasia. (And if somhow somthing ended up going wrong with the paperwork in Holland, a plan was also in place to bring along a well placed roll of $100 dollor bills for dispursal to the right Dutch beurocrat, if need be.)

Well to make a long storey short, they never made it to Europe, because we coght up with them. I will describbe the whole thing lator in this updatte.

But first the events leadding up to our trip to the Eastcoast.

My last update ended in the hospitol. Granfather, as you know, was admitted for medicol complicattions related to a failed Giunnes World Record attempt. Specificolly, an opporation to remove a camcorder from the lowermost part of his colon.

A speciel request from the old Bastord

Granfather has put up with allmost three years of my slanderrous libel agianst him of the most peurile nature within the pages of Walter Miller's Homepage, and I feel it is allways noteworthy to mention instances when the old basterd specifficly asks me to note something in my writings. In this case, he told me to tell you the particulors of how the camcorder got coght: He wants everyone to know that the camcordor was comin out his butt as a result of swallowwing it, not up his butt, (i.e., as the result of some sort of "inapropriatte relations".)

The operation never hapenned

Surgory was called off because just as Granps was snatched and hustled outof the hospitol and into the getaway car the trauma of the moment caused the item, still with a small amuont of vaseline on it (to sort of guide things along from his throaght, downword on its long journey), to pop out at a great velocitty and a loud:
Sshhhhh--WHICK!!! noise which you may reckongize as the ecaxt if not slightley wet sounding auditory signatuore of the sliding Enterprise doors opening realy fast on the Original Star Treck series. (I swear I half ecxpected to hear Spock take a look at the knobbey stinking thing shoot out of Granps at Warp Two and say, "Fascinnating!")

Do you remmember in my last update how they kidnaped Granps? Well, as the now horrobly ruined handheld cammera skitted across the parkin lot, my brother stopped the car, openned the door and grabbed it by stickin his arm inside out in a Hefty bag and then grabbing and puling it toword him. Aparantley he needed it as evidence becuase the Dutch doctors will not legaly youthennize an elderley patient agianst his will unless it is proved that he is senile. And having a camcorder lodged into eithor end of one's alimentory canal is presumobly proof enuogh.

The Hefty bag manuover --which my brothor used, comes in handy to avoid touchin somthin that has had direct contact with Granfathers ass.

Later that night aftor they kidnaped him, I wrote on how my sister inlaw called me on the phone while on their excape route and luaghingly told me of their plans.

As soon as she hung up I finaly got thruogh to Dad

And let me tell you he was not happy. Yes he cannot stand Granfather eithor but like me, he does not feel he shoud be killed; (atleast not untill science can fully study him). In our family, there is a big rift: Me my dad and my stepmom feel Granfather shoud be alowed to live. My brothor, sister inlaw and Granfather's two brothers feel the old basterd shoud be put down. Not so much to put him out of misery, but to spare the misery of his danm fammily.

Dad is pissed

My father told me that he had known for a few weeks that a secret plot to steal Granfather had been brewing. Howevor he had thuohgt it woud happen in November. He told me to sit tight and wait for his call, becuase he was goingto find out where they have absconded with the abscess-riddoled old basterd.

The next day i had to go to work

I had no othor choise but to wait for Dad's call. And so I went to the office to work onsite as scheduouled. I hate goin in there on Fridays anyway. Its like, a 3 hour drive from where I live.

It was one of those days where nothin got done. In othor words it hapenned to be the day that Ken Star's Speciel Prosecutor's repport went up on the web.

My Boss's boss, the one we call the Nosepicker canceled his normol afternoon staff meeting and declaired that hed be in a speceil "conference call" for the rest of the day.


We are able to check the analog phoneline systam and there was NO outgoing calls lit up for his extention.
Lying bastord. He was locked in there readin the danm Star report like the rest of the countrey.

Meanwile my imeddiate boss, the anoying overly perky happy pain in the ass sensitive little compoulsive codependant of a boss desciddes to hold a staff meeting of her own, down in her cemment floored Office of Exile, locatted way past where the pissy smelling indoor-outdoor carpetted area of the basement ends where they keep the Java programmors; an office she was placed in cause her imediate boss, the Nosepickor, cant stand to hear her annoying piping voice no more. Especiely when he is tryin to read the Starr Report in piece and quiet.

The purpoce of this danm meeting of hers, all six of us crammed in her tiny ofice, was to plan our departmentol Summer Barbaque which she insisted on doing, even thuogh now the summer is over. All of us in the department treid to make plans all thruoghout the summer to avoid it.

But yet she forces sociallization on us all. Plus she is not even from Texas and has NO idea what a barbecue is: It is NOT merely throwin turkey hot dogs smeared with Miracle Whip on an electric grill on the porch of her condo... (OK, i am not from texas eithor but I know good barbeceu when i see it). Also she is alwayes baking these horroble light brown homemade sugorfree lowfat cookies that are gigantic and look and taste like particle board. She brings them to every meeting. I ate one once and didnt crap for a week.

After the meeting...

...the staff filed out, holding both their ears from her anoying voice, and also their nose. Like I said it smells like piss down there. I am not blaiming the java proggramers. But they are the onley ones you see when you walk past. Anyway, after the whole staff meeting, Me and her had ANOTHOR meeting, this one private.

As youknow she is my self apointed career counslor. This meeting was a "touching base follow up meeting" which focused on how I shoud call this guy, this freind of hers, who is an internet bigshot and a young guy like myself, to touch base with him too. Not for any particulour reason, but just to "touch base."

I am relluctent to call up peoplle I dont know. I am very shy.

Also, when me and her were alone she told me that she noticed me sqiurming in my chair. She wanted to know WHY. I said WHY did you want to know and she said she was concerned. To tell the truth it is a flat chair in her ofice I sit on, and frankley my ass is a litle sore from the long drive in, a factor compuonded by the fact that I am in a sort of deskbound industry. This is what hapenns when you are skinny. It is not so mutch my ass that is raw but that little area behind your balls which if you are skinny like me and stay seated for a long time coud get irritated which I was, and thearfore was sort of one-cheeking or rathor half-cheeking it as i sat. But I did not tell her this.

SEE THAT, this is proof of how shy I am because i am willing to put this on my hompage for the world to read but NOT TELL HER. Okay i will not discuss it anymore becuase it is gross. But i will say that that square cushey foam peice that comes in the box when you buy a network card, that has the rectangulor hole in the center, is better than any inflatable doughnut money can buy to sit on if you have that problem. Especialy if you are skinney.

The Cleint Meeting

I was itchin to get the hell outof there becuase I wanted to check my phoen messages to see if Dad called. But insted we had to meet with one of our new clients.

Why is it true: There is nothin in this world stupidor than the client.