Brain Dead

The Man Servant. What else to call him? Has no opinions of his own. Has no thoughts of his own. No opinions. No life. Only his drink. And what Mom tells him to think. And to do. And to feel. Repeats to all what is said and done. His thoughts are so meager, the only thing he has to discuss is what time he went to be last night. What time did you go to bed last height? Eleven? Yeah, that's about what time I went. Watched TV for a bit. Went out for a cigarette. Then went to bed.

They use big words now. They don't want anyone to know what they're talking about. What's a philanthropist? Lyn said I didn't have to go down to the labor hall today. Said it was too cold and there would probably be no work anyway. Well, no complaints from me! I just came on home. Found a weed eater in the garbage. Took apart the carburetor, cleaned it, and on the third try it started right up! Probably works better than the on your mom has. {repeated to Tom an Mom in exactly the same wordage.}

So he works to give he money. I guess she thinks she is being charitable, giving him a place to live. Guess it covers up her gross misuse of the human spirit. I suppose it works for them. And constantly I wonder how she deals with it day in and day out. I have a hard time after only a couple of hours.