Tae's tribute on the passing of Vinnie Jordan (R.I.P.)

DTG: VJ

From Tae Hyong Kim:

So he's dead, huh.

We exchanged email on occasion when I used to post regularly on AT. He told people in plain, direct words, *exactly* what about them annoyed the fuck outta him. Made it funny as hell, too. The more plain his words were, the truer they sounded, the smarter he sounded, the more like a gibbering monkey the other was made to look.

He liked to swear a lot. I liked that.

I knew he was a drunk a long time ago and that he was going to stay that way. I'm sure a lot of other people knew it as well. It¹s a type. I'm a bit surprised that he lived for this long.

Ah well. I've picked up many a drunk, and I always end up picking them up again sometime later - unless they die - which always seems to happen later than you think it will. They always outlive your estimates - *especially* if you got money on it - that's for sure. They hold on a bit longer just to spite you - make you work on them just once more. So they can recover, croak out whatever fucking promises they make to themselves or anyone who¹s listening who gives half a rat's ass that this time's the turnaround.

Being a drunk masks shitloads of other medical problems. They are some of the hardest to manage - much less talk to - Because most of them are lying bastards who will say or do anything to get the hell out and start drinking again. Piss yourself while standing up, then slip and fall and split your head wide open? Don't blame the friggin drunk, he doesn't know any better - he's fucking soused. He *will*, however, come back to sue your cheap five-figure salary ass for all it's worth. You'll be driving that Civic forever.

If I never pick up another fucker who falls and splits his head wide open and sits in the bathroom and smears the blood all over himself and waits just long enough before dialing 911 that the whole apartment gets that tangy, coppery, bad raw steak smell, and the blood congeals into little puddles on the floor and attains this slippery-yet-sticky feel when wearing latex gloves ...

And for fuck's sake - why do you assholes always end up in the crapper - the smallest goddamn room in the house? And why do you feel the need to try and grab the whitest, brightest piece of my uniform with your bloody, sticky goddamn hands?

Ain't my fault that you had to get an ice-water lavage of your stomach for the past hour to shrink the fragile, enlarged esophageal varices that broke open and caused you to projectile-vomit streams of blood on the walls and floor. But, for some reason, you wait until I get closer to spit a pink globber my way.

Oh, and let's not forget the piles of foul black, tarry, liquidy shit that even with the best of care, I'll end up stepping into with nearly brand new boots. If I'm lucky, I'll slip and fall into the goo as well and provide a little yuk yuk for the hosemonkeys. Yum.

Had to have that drink, huh? Even though you knew it would kill you, or make you want to die if you didn't.

Philosophers and logicians have no stronger claim to the phrase "vicious circularity" when compared to drunks.

Fire in the belly, firewater in the belly, bleeding into the belly.

That about sums it up.

Shit, Vin.

Why couldn't it have been Pe?

- Tae

"Inter caecus luscus regnat."

(Originally posted on Sun, Oct 28 2001)

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From Tae:

Acetylcholinesterase Inhibitor wrote: "Goddamn, Tae, where *have* you been???"

I've been where I've always been - working, hating, scheming, getting engaged, finishing my degree, applying to med school, playing online games. Ya know - shit like that.

Been around, lurking. Had nothing to offer, so offered up nothing. Still don't, really, but I wanted to say something about Vinnie, is all.

- Tae

"Inter caecus luscus regnat."

(Originally posted on Sun, Oct 28 2001)