The machinist, part 3.

Here's the third part in the continuing adventures of me and the machinist. You can find the first part here and the second part here. By the time I'm done with these, I might just have to write a book about the man. The legend will never measure up to the man though. It's too bad none of you get to experience the pleasure of working with this great, spiteful bastard.


You were broadcasting when you should have been tuning in.

That motherfucker just insulted me!
"What do you mean?"
He said, "Well, I'll let you get back to work and get out of your hair." Do you see any fucking hair on my head? That motherfucker...

"Yeah, they don't seem to get along too well."
Take you and me for instance. Now, I may not like you, but we both work for this company. So when we're here, I pretend to like you.
"Thanks."

He's like a bear cub wearing boxing gloves and playing with his peter.

How's the world treatin' ya?
"Fine. How about you?"
It's not the world. It's the people, kid. It's the people.

Your mouth was in gear and your brain was in idle.

Did I ever tell you about the old, ugly woman I saw at the eye doctor?
"No, I don't think so."
Well, one time when I was at the eye doctor, I saw the ugliest bitch I've ever seen. I'm talking so ugly that a blind man wouldn't marry the bitch. Well, a couple of months go by and I'm taking this tour through a farm, and then I see her walking with a group of people. So I went up to her and I asked, "Were you at the eye doctor about two months ago?"
And she said, "Yes, how did you know that?"
I said, "Well, ma'am, I trained with the CIA for over eleven years, and I always remember faces."
She said, "That's amazing. You have a wonderful memory."
The truth is...no one could forget such an ugly fucking goat face.


Part four is inevitable. To be continued, I'm sure.