The Written Word, reins

Taking a seat at the adult table

Comments Off on Taking a seat at the adult table 02 November 2016

I took a seat at a highway 58 eastbound rest area to ponder the meaning of life. I wasnt sure if i had what it takes for this particular  struggle until I saw the writing on the wall:  ‘David was here ’07’, ‘David is a fag alwayz’, ‘that’s not cool’, ‘f u’, ‘Scraggy bangs ur mom’, and so on. What was i to do with all of new found  knowledge! With every passage of this learned doctrine i fell deeper into the wormhole. So much in fact that i would occasionally forget to push. The deeper i fell the more questions i had; mostly because I’ve never been in a position of determination, preparedness or coincidence to effectively scribe my own visionary message on powder coated bound sheet metal. That would all change on this day as i spent some time signing autographs in the parking lot for a large Asian family that didn’t speak English. I thought they were taking a picture of me but as more time elapsed in this menagerie of thoughts i began to think they could have been photographing anything.  Equipped with the same black Sharpie i penned the message, “To Whom It May Concern, I’m not really sure where to begin as I am a newbie with stall scripture.  The typically human has roughly 14 minutes of sitting time before their legs go completely numb. Don’t get so caught up in the reading that you forget to check for toilet paper before it’s too late. Better luck to you.”


Review of the McPick 2 for $2 from McDonald’s

Comments Off on Review of the McPick 2 for $2 from McDonald’s 23 January 2016

I’m bold.  I went for the full monty- $4 for all four.  A McDouble cheeseburger, small fry, mozzarella sticks and a chicken sandwich.

The cheeseburger was equal parts wet and dry.  Thankfully it had an extra snicket of lubrication so it went down before the taste had a chance to set in.  The fries…definitely had salt on them.  How about a common app?  The mozz stick.  I’m pretty sure the requirements are as follows- McD’s area managers go to local Sam’s Club, buy as many gallon jugs of whole milk that will fit in their hatchback, let them sit in the basement for 3 months past the expiration date, slice open plastic jug with box cutter, pinch off and heavily bread chunks of the curdled milk, toss into deepfry, serve to people thinking they’re somehow going to receive a quality product from McD’s.

Lastly I face off against my mortal enemy.  Being allergic to poultry eating the chicken sandwich may seem ludicrous to those who know me but it’s possible it’s not real chicken.  If it is?  Well I was destined to start defecating wildly while vomiting the Lord’s praise anyway so why not induce symptoms as quickly as possible.

The only hope is that the Nic Cage movie I have picked out quells the violence within me.

Not this time.  Tomorrow I’ll try again reversing the order of the full monty.


reins, Poetry

The Eugene-Gate Files: A Dream Sequence

No Comments 01 September 2015

We rented a rundown banquet hall on the other side of town for my farewell party and made it on a Monday from 2- 3:15pm in hopes that nobody would show up.  Just in case I sent my stand in.

I was in the back alley behind the Family Dollar enjoying a case of Stroh’s with Randy; the one arm pretend Vet that’s been in every branch of the military and been in every war from the crusades to the gulf conflict when he retired citing irreconcilable differences.  That’s when I got the call of a lifetime.

My neighbors, Anthony and Allie, bought me a stretch limo for my drive West.  They thought it would allow me to bring more of the sentimental items I love so much.  They couldn’t have been more right; I crammed the shit out of the limo.  Another surprise was they equipped it with a GPS attached to a Web link so everyone could see where I had been.  The best part was I could log in and drop pins to let people know the places that I stopped, what I did while I was there and what I didn’t like about it.  If it wasn’t for my fear of losing moisture I would have shed a tear.  Besides my hickory handle hatchet it was the best gift I’ve ever been given.

The trip was going great.  I stopped at the glass museum in Corning, NY and the spoon factory just outside of Dayton, OH.  As I crossed the Iowa border into the picturesque backdrop of Nebraska I noticed a car speeding up behind me.  It soon crossed the double yellow lines and pulled up next to me.  It was Anthony and Allie and they had diabolical looks on their faces.  Allie pulled out what looked like a controller for a remote car.  When she started fidgeting with it my limo started shrinking.

Before I knew it I was wedged between the steering wheel and all of my sentimentals.  The limo was now smaller than a Smart car and Allie had it spinning out of control.  When it crashed into the corn stalks there was a Michael Bay-like explosion and I was burning inside the condensed limo.  It was then that I woke up and looked around.

Everybody Loves Raymond was on and I couldn’t have been more thankful to not be in Nebraska.  I ate another slice of pizza, finished my Dr Pepper and went back to sleep.

reins, Poetry

A Glimmer of Light Through the Black Sun

No Comments 01 September 2015

Devastation can lead to triumph
Bad intentions, good intentions, no intentions
Can all lead down a dark road if not carefully monitored
It’s what is done when the road is at its darkest that makes the difference
Hopefully someone or something will provide a pinhole of light so the next step can be found
Hopefully that pinhole opens up to deep blue skies
And the road is easier to navigate
Not without time and effort



The Written Word, reins

Reins’ Inbox- It’s All Natural

No Comments 18 June 2015

Hi Reins!

It’s Alex—your most favorite intern ever!!! I just wanted to say “hi”. I hope all is well. Quick question for youuu: I saw a bird today. It was big but not too big, brownish color but not too brownish, and it had 4 wings. Any idea of what it could be?? I really need to get your input on this concerning topic……..



Your FAV Intern.


Hi Alex,

This seems like it could turn into quite an inconspicuously canoodling conundrum that, if left unanswered, could turn one into quite the curmudgeon. Let me see if I can help$

A) That’s what we call a car. A 1987 Ford Tempo to be exact. The “wings” you refer to are called “wheels” and they make contact with the road and, hopefully, lead you back to your abode.

B) That is the ayahuascan sparrow. He is know to be prominent with the ingestion of the gift root. He can see the songs you’re listening to so make sure you’re Floyd heavy. Start with Meddle, Piper or Saucerful. Maybe Animals. Nah, fuck it. Meddle. Can you send him back over here? He’s not usually gone this long.

C) I think you walked in on 2 birds getting their stew on. Coitus as it’s known in some circles. If you want to be cliche about it turn up Marvin or Barry then back away slowly, grab some popcorn and watch nature happen. You know me; I’m going with anything from Iggy Pop’s catalog while getting stewed up.

D) Who is this?

Thanks for participating,



Stair Climb 2015 Revealed

No Comments 01 June 2015

Dear Coach Simoneau,

We here at The Shade wanted to congratulate you on your impressive victory at this year’s Stair Climb.  We’re upset that we couldn’t be in attendance this year as we had a table at the Finger Lakes Finger Nail Clip Off but we recognize talent in its existence and you’re second to one.  We understand, that by some miracle, you secured a better time than Shoeless but let’s face facts; he is no Howard Trotsky.  At least Shoeless wasn’t suspended this time around.  That’s the best everybody could hope for.  Ever since Shoeless discovered that the Newport Creamery is right next to Auntie Anne’s in the mall his training and ambitions have started taking a back seat.  Howard embodies the American spirit and is a born leader.  You have your work cut out for you if you’re attempting to surpass his legacy.

The prize package that we’ve compiled for you takes in the true essence of the occasion and the direction that we believe you’ve come from and that you are headed.  Remember T-shirts are only as successful as their tuck.  Make sure you tuck properly!

Nice job in the past and good luck in the future,

Reins Hagglemayer


Post Script- the Tony Siragusa pee pad is only slightly used as it was purchased on Craigslist and the office staff wanted to try it out.


A Serious Case Of The Mondays

No Comments 07 May 2015

I awoke and decided the best thing to do for breakfast was watch a Don Cheadle Monday Multiplex Movie Marathon featuring Hotel Rwanda, Swordfish and The Conjuring. Next in line was a trip to the beach after a late lunch at the much revered Oyster Bar. The patio construction turned out to be perfect background ambiance, the stuffie was terrific, the lobster roll (which was detected during my walkthrough of the dining room during the 25 minute wait to be seated) was fucking scrumptious, the oyster po’ boy the woman next to me ordered was pretty good too. She was a great sport about everything, it was a pleasure to buy her lunch. Torrie our little tease of a waitress bringing me a slice of new york cheesecake with chocolate and caramel after telling me they were all out…you dirty dog. I felt just the right amount of awful to have some waves crash into me a 1/4 mile down the road. As I enter the water I have to face facts – it’s the beginning of May, the water is really starting to heat up and pretty soon people will be returning. Beach season is almost over. The stunning realization has me scratching my head with another case of the Monday’s.

Reins Hagglemayer

reins, Ask Norman

Dear Norman – Reins & Norm Explore

No Comments 15 April 2015

Dear Norm,

I found myself at the bad end of a bender and somehow ended up in a church.  There was singing, an organ playing, shaking hands and then near the end they let you take some money out of a basket.

Since that day I’ve been doing some reconnaissance to choose which religion is right for me.  At a Jewish church I spun a top and heard tall tales of finding change in the street.  At a Catholic church I was able to chew on some dried out cardboard and wash it down with a reddish liquid.  I don’t remember the 16 hours that followed and managed to lose my pants.  With a Rastafarian group I smoked ganja, kicked a soccer ball and listened to Bob Marley.  That could have been my friend Dave’s house; I don’t really remember.

While these and others have all been pleasurable experiences the Church of Scientology really intrigued me.  There is quite a bit going on there with all the different thetan levels to look out for.  Being Clear, E-meters and the evil Lord Xenu from the Galactic Confederacy. I mean let’s face it he’s probably best known for “Incident 2”.

Most religions have detractors or negativalists but Scientology doesn’t seem to.  It’s probably because the theory which started it’s ideology has science to back it up and the numbers just make sense. I can picture myself aboard Freewinds with the Sea Org obtaining the highest levels of Operating Thetan training.

I personally believe all of Mr. Hubbard’s writing is connected.  It’s like Countess Krak said in Mission Earth 5, “I’ll bet his spinbrush is all worn out…Maybe his nerve ends have gotten dull…Maybe he has grown a mustache and wants it speeded up…”  That’s got to be how you feel right before Clear.

I know I’m ready.

Thanks for listening,



Dear Reins,

I can’t tell you how good it is to hear from you. Having not seen you since the Mid Winter Field Day, Rayburn and I were growing concerned. Just last week we were pondering the age old question “How much time do Alex Trebek and Pat Sajak spend together, if any?” and hit the existential ‘brick wall’. At such moments your absence is felt most. We feared you fell into one of your infamous Dorito Shembalas.

You’ve been busy eh? I’m glad you’ve tracked down your pants (presuming you have). I know how hard you worked on that hem.

On to more pressing matters.

It’s no surprise your quest is on-going. You’re a swashbuckler with miles to walk each night before you sleep. However, tread carefully in Hubbard’s realm.

Back in the mid 60s I was doing a stint at Warner Bros. fixing up lackluster scripts and got to know Hubbard a bit on the ‘writer’s circuit’. We met intermittently at Greenblatt’s on Sunset before Zagat entered the equation.

He often spoke of ‘thetans’ and nifty cowboy boots. He went on longingly about the depth’s of one’s soul and the difference between truth and a falsehood weighing no more than a feather. Most of the time he creeped me out but he had a car so I indulged him.

Things culminated when we were drinking nips one morning at Greenblatt’s. Hubbard was wont to take long, thoughtful swallows of his drink before talking. He could always bring a cliche to life. At that time he took it for granted that the real and true spirits were entering him with the fire of the liquor. He inhaled the animation around him then said:

“Emotion must never be wasted. Norm, keep clear on such things! When you’re older you may have the bad luck to have an affair with an ugly woman who may enjoy what you offer and has never been on daily terms with a man. She’s too ugly. You’re going to have trouble on your hands. Before long, she’s insatiable. You’ve given the taste of the forbidden to her. Remember I said that.”

He strode off through the door and left me to pay the bill. Presumably as payment for the session?

Take what you will from that advice. What concerned me more about Hubbard was that he longed to be both Alpha and Omega and when your best and worst motives agree on the same action, beware.

I apologize for being forward, but I think the best thing for you is to come home to the welcoming nook of The Shade’s office. We’ve taken to buying that ciabatta bread you like.

Adequately, but not overly concerned,


The Written Word, reins

Rayburn Re-asserts Himself As A Hero (Again)

No Comments 02 February 2015


What a weekend eh? That Super Bowl blew my mind. The Championship is coming back to New England. We’re bracing for another FOOT of snow. And, most importantly, The Shade’s own Rayburn Schiltz took the better part of an hour yesterday morning to reassert himself as a bonafide hero.

The Setting

As part of The Shade’s commitment to dedicate <1% of our time to fitness the staff decided to engage with the Super 5K in Narragansett RI. The whole gang was there save Reins who picked up a knee niggle a few weeks back while arm wrestling for a ham on rye (here’s hoping he’ll be ready for broomball next week).

When asked how he prepared for the run Rayburn replied: “Not only did I have a hard boiled egg this morning, I trained in the snow, Rocky 4 style“. Possibilities = Endless.

With the wind whipping off the the bay and people excessively washing their hands in the only small bathroom available – bladders were strained and people were getting anxious. A perfect setting for Rayburn to excel.

The Event

A mitten malfunction caused me to lose track of time and before I could initiate my Whitney Houston playlist the shot rang out and the race was underway. Zing!

For me, participating in these types of events is an exercise in survival. Not for Rayburn though. He enters a Zen frame of mind. Things slow down, ideas and concepts crystallize in the amber.

Starting slow and steady all the spectators were keeping a close eye on The Shade’s Foot Soldiers to keep their fingers on the pulse. With a shimmy roger, Rayburn separated himself from the pack. One just assumes Billy Ocean was blaring.

Fighting gravity and general unease the pack gained on Rayburn and yet he persisted. At it’s most challenging, Rayburn came face to face (er, bum) with a woman who refused to buy the appropriate size spandex.

At moments like this lesser men succumb to fatigue, disgust and crumble. But as Rayburn always says – “When life gives you quince, you make ambrosia”. And that’s exactly what he did – he put his head down, dug deep, coughed and pushed on.

The crowd took a collective gasp.


With a quarter mile left, spectators locked in on his progress as he shot through The Towers. He had the end in sight. Performances like this inspire a nation. As such a soft rumble emerged from the crowd:

“Rayburn, Rayburn”

Unaffected, Rayburn focused on his wheeze and awkward gait. Only in his final sprint did he notice the throngs of people chanting his name.

“Rayburn, Rayburn”

Always wanting to please his fans, he gave the people what they wanted and started to shed layers.



A Legend Was Made

Upon finishing Rayburn was approached by race officials to talk about run times. With the shake of the hand Rayburn turned them away just saying “I’m not interested, I know I can do better“. Confused and contemplative the volunteer shuffled off with a new perspective on things.

Not wanting to be the center of attention Rayburn kept running right into the Atlantic – both to cool off and give some of the young guys the limelight.



The Banquet

At the following banquet Rayburn was good enough to sign some autographs, eat a few rolls and discuss localized energy grids.

We learned a lot today. Not least of which was Rayburn, reminding us yet again, that he is a bonafide hero.

The Staff.



Rein’s inbox

No Comments 16 October 2014

Email I received:

What the heck was the Balkan conflict?

My response:

At a wine and dine event to save nesting sea turtles on the banks of the Adriatic Sea David Edward Balkan had hot soup spilled on his new slacks by longtime Soviet antagonist Kirshov Valdergard. When Mr. Balkan demanded an apology, $24.85 for the cleaning, and a new bowl of soup Kirshov responded, “The slacks aren’t even worth the amount of spilt soup nevermind the $24.85 for the cleaning.”

Once the crowd in the area started laughing uncontrollably it started a classic case of bunched panties for David. After about 9 years and a few deaths the area is still in a bit of political unrest.*

*Mr. Balkan ended up paying for his slacks and new soup.

Response email I received:

You are nuts.

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