Karl needs to remember: this is ALL self-inflicted:

One of his particularly interesting verbal “tics” of late consists in the fact that he utterly refuses to acknowledge that Franz (his father) is, in fact, his father.

However (being the total candy-ass he is), the absolute “saltiest” terminology to which he can resort is to refer to Franz as “Asshole”, in situations where the context would normally call for “Dad”, or the individual’s first name (for example: where Bart Simpson tends to call his dad “Homer”, on The Simpsons).

So, for example, I get treated to whiny discourses about what “Asshole” did to wrong our special little E-hoarder Snowflake:  (For example: “Can you believe it?  ‘Asshole’ actually sued me, so now I have to scurry around getting all of the stuff out of the basement and garage!”).

The blatant hypocrisy there is (of course), the fact that “Asshole” allowed Karl to move back in, at all.    His parents’ basement and garage had never been available for their use (what with the floor-to-ceiling piles of unsorted scrap, and such.

  • EVEN WHEN Karl and his (first) former Fiancée had relocated to an apartment, somewhere in the vicinity of Lancaster.
  • EVEN AFTER that woman decided to leave him — both for her own psychological safety, and because she genuinely believed that breaking up with him face-to-face would most likely end in some sort of murder-suicide scenario (due to what she calls Karl’s tendency to THROW TANTRUMS.)   After she left him, he spent several years living in another trailer (different from the one where he currently resides) – and managed to turn that place into a morass of floor-to-ceiling boxes of unsorted scrap – as per usual.)

I have come to the conclusion that Karl is utterly incapable of actually learning from his previous mistakes:

The places he has lived (to my knowledge)

  1. His Parents’ house (basement/garage rendered unusable, so as to better accomodate version 1 of his E-scrap collection)
  2. His Grandparents’ place (upstairs bedroom(s)/basement reduced to SAME conditions as above).
  3. Some apartment in the vicinity of Lancaster (reduced to the same conditions as above).
  4. Some trailer — presumably similar to the one in which he currently lurks.  (I was actually at that location once or twice.  The only thing I reliably recall is: floor-to-ceiling stacks of unsorted boxes, and almost no “furniture” in the conventional sense of the term.  A desk with a computer on it?  At any rate — NOT the kind of place any sane person would regard as even marginally inhabitable.
  5. Around 2006 (?), he became acquainted with the woman who would eventually become his second fiancée — a Mexican woman.   Over the intervening years, they were actually “together” for approximately 8 weeks — Karl’s month-long visit to Monterrey, Mexico, and her corresponding visit to PA.

The primary thing I remember about their “relationship” was the fact that every time I (stupidly) attempted to help him “organize” the E-hoard over at his storage-units, large amounts of time would be taken up by him on the phone with her,  repeatedly apologizing for the fact that they weren’t actually together in person, and attempting to reassure her that she WAS in fact, at least as important to him, as the storage-units full of Commodore 64s and suchlike).

EVENTUALLY (and utterly predictably), she became disillusioned with him, and is now actually living with a guy in Canada (primarily because HE wasn’t a fucking E-waste addict).

The only reason I mention Fabiola at all, is because she was the reason he relocated from the PREVIOUS (cluttered) trailer, back to his parents’ basement.  Supposedly (as per his standard self-delusion), his plan was to “organize” (and/or sell) at least some of the E-hoard, in preparation for eventually relocating to either Texas (where he could supposedly “walk into pretty much any tech-related job around”), or to Monterrey, Mexico.

Upon arrival at either location, his “strategy” involved rending a large amount of (inexpensive) warehouse space, converting it into a “museum”.

Needless to say, none of this has EVER happened.  Moreover, none of it will EVER happen.   Leaving aside the virtual certainty that at least 99% of the myriad of E-waste heaps have been compromised (filth, corrosion, mold, his half-witted tendency to just haphazardly cram shit into storage units, on top of other — equally unsorted — piles of shit), etc.– leaving ALL of that aside, he has absolutely no idea how to even begin organizing the shit in any meaningful sense of the term.

(Hint: halfheartedly rummaging through a few boxes, while complaining about the fact that their contents are encrusted in rodent-droppings does NOT count as “organizing”).

Nor does whining about the fact that the teletype-machine (which has been sitting — unused and (mostly) unattended) for over 20 years, in your parents’ back-yard) is essentially immovable.



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