Might as Well Dump

In the post-Herman days of the Childe, the various characters that worked there reconfigured and carried on. At the cash register, and maestro of the mayhem was Steve Teischer. A big old Brooklynese Jewish hippie with sharp edges and great humor, Steve stepped into Herman's role with no ties to The Craft. He didn't disrespect it, and now and then credited it, but he never partook. He did what he could to keep the place running. He called himself and me The Dumpster Sisters because everything there ended up on our heads. Steve and The Childe are long gone now, but I continued to uphold the title for a couple decades.  

That was, until I got away from being a working stiff, and then escaped living on ramen noodles, and at last cleared some people out of my life that lived in perpetually dirty diapers. It's amazing how much nicer you and life can be when the psychic vampires are gone. All of a sudden you aren't carrying people's crises for them and they aren't sucking the energy outta you. You dumped it all and things lightened up.

And that energy you now have can go into good works, good ideas, and good people. 

This has been a good week. I have hope that truth will out, that people get their comeuppence, and that maybe a little sanity will return. Maybe things aren't entirely broken. Maybe refiring up the Hadron Collider shifted us back to our old universe. Whatever is happening, I'm happy it is, and doing my part to increase the good. It starts with dumping the bad. Try it.

 

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