The Event

I am notoriously terrible at renewing my plates on time because I think it is crap that they demand money every year to renew the registration on a vehicle I registered the year before and the year before that! I believe it is further crap that the registration date does not adjust itself to the time you registered. I’ve had people try to justify it to me but they fail on all accounts. It is crap and that is all there is about it.

I will, however obscenely ludicrous it is, recognize that this is the current law and that the events that transpired are entirely my fault. Had I followed the law and paid them their “screw off fee” none of the following would have happened. I am entirely to blame. That said, please sit back and enjoy a section of my life that could be the basis for a sitcom.

Last week I left work during my lunch break in order to get some food at a local gas station. As I was getting out of my car I heard a voice over a loud speaker say “Driver, Please remain in your vehicle!” Startled, I looked around and discovered that parked next to me was a pale blue dodge charger with flashing light barely noticeable on the dash. I looked into the car and into the face of a state trooper who was staring back at me. I smiled and closed my door and assumed the standard “Pulled over Position”- Window down, engine off, radio off, hands on the steering wheel. He gets out of the car and comes over to my door and informs me that the reason he is pulling me over is because my plates are expired. I grumble to myself about my forgetfulness and he asked for my license. I inform him it is in my back pocket and that I am reaching for it so he does not become alarmed or feel threatened. I hand it to him and he hands it back to me stating that I had, in fact, handed him my visa card. I am immediately flustered and attempt to explain that it was not my intention at all to hand that to him and that I wasn’t trying to suggest anything by it. He held his hand up and I could just make out a shadow of a smile on his face as I hurriedly hand him, after checking it three times, my license.

He takes the license and says “If you have business inside, you can go in and attend to it.” I stared at him blankly. I cleverly responded “Really?” He said “I assume you are on your lunch break, so if you need to get something in there, go and get it. I should be done with my paperwork by the time you come back.” So I went inside. The guy behind the counter asked if everything was OK. I stated calmly that I was getting a ticket but the cop said I could get what I needed while he wrote things out. The clerk blinked and I said “I know! Right?” He just shook his head.

So I went back got one of the salads that have for sale, grabbed a drink from the cooler, paid for my items and went back to my car. I then presented myself with the following problem. How do I get in my car without him thinking I’m going to start up my car and race out of the parking lot to commit further heinous crimes like ripping the tags off mattresses or using an aerosol spray can on a manner other that which it was intended. I decided I would walk exaggeratedly to my car so he would be sure to see that I was letting him know I was returning to my car and as I got into my vehicle I quickly placed my items on the floor and returned my hands to the steering wheel.

I couple of minutes later he returned with a 10 day warning instead of a ticket. He told me to renew the plates and then have an officer sign off on the paper he gave me. He also asked me if my seatbelt was in working order. I replied that it was and he said to be sure to put it on before I leave because I wasn’t wearing it when I got there. DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! I have made it a habit to wear my seatbelt at work because it is a CDL regulation, but I must have forgotten to put it on while rushing out to get lunch. I put my seatbelt on and the officer tells me to have a nice day and leaves. WOW! He could have given me two expensive tickets but he didn’t! This sounds like the end of the story, but wait! There is more!

The next day on my lunch break I head over the Vehicle Emissions Test site to get tested and renew my plates. As I pull up I see the “Estimated Wait Time” clock set at 40 minutes. I only have a 30 minute lunch but I pull in to asses the line and it is indeed back up and around the curve so I head back to work. I work from 8:30 am to 7 pm Monday through Thursday and am off on Fridays but I wanted to get this taken care of. So I told my supervisor that I was coming in late on Wednesday because I wanted to get this registration thing taken care of and there were a couple of other chores I wanted to handle before Friday. So Wednesday I get up, take care of my other chores and head over toy the Vehicle Emissions Test site in Waukesha to find that it is closed on Wednesdays!! DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! The facilities hours are plainly posted on the sign as you enter the driveway but who the hell thought they’d be closed in the middle of the week! Again, my fault, I didn’t check the hours before I made the plans. So I drive, deflated, in to work.

The next day, Thursday, off I go again on my lunch break to try to take care of an issue I could have handled at my leisure a couple of months earlier. As I pull up to the Vehicle Emissions Test site, I see the “Estimated Wait Time” clock isn’t even registering recognizable numbers. I pull in to the lot to discover even more cars in line than there was on Tuesday! There is nothing for it. I go back to work (amongst the chuckles of my co-workers who have been following this saga) completely defeated and resigned to resolving this issue on Friday.

Friday morning I get up and head right over the Vehicle Emissions Test site. I see the “Estimated Wait Time” clock set at 28 minutes so I get in line. I finally make my way in to one of the garage bays and the young lady asks for my renewal for. I tell her that I don’t have a renewal for and that I was pulled over by a cop due to my lack of handling a simply yearly task everyone else manages to complete. She says she can’t test my car with out the form and that I have to pull around go inside, give the lady my license plate number, and she will print out the form I need. I thank her for the direction and pull out of the bay, drive around to the parking lot and go inside noticing that the line of cars is nearly as long as it was on Thursday. I go inside, get in line between a confused old man and a couple of snarky remarking college kids and wait for my turn. When I get up to the window, I give the lady behind the glass, who looks old enough to have given Moses swimming lessons, my license plate number. She punches the numbers into her computer with a palpable sense of disdain for time wasting simpletons like myself and after a few minutes of scowling at the screen stated that I owe her the designated amount of money for plate renewal. I ask her about the testing form and she tells me there isn’t testing required this year for my vehicle. I breathe slowly. She repeats the demand for the payment and adds that it must be either cash or check and that they do not accept plastic. I have a grand total of $2.56 in cash on me. I do, however, have my checkbook with me in my car. So, I go out to my car, get my checkbook, come back inside, get in line between a person with a very small grasp on the English language and a middle aged female mouth breather. As I am waiting in line, I fill out my check so I can present it to the lady behind the glass, get my sticker and go. Soon I find myself kneeling behind my car, cleaning off the plate and applying my shiny new sticker. A quick stop at the cop shop and I am a responsible driver once again!

Or at least until the next time my plates expire!

Introducing Abretok Industries

I am pleased to announce the assembly of several small entities under one heading, Abretok Industries. Rainbird Studios, Rainbird Photograbers Inc, and Abretok Arts are joining together under the heading Abretok Industries.

This idea actually started in the garage with my Dad many years ago. When we would build something or finish working on something together Dad would say, “Another fine job by Abretok Industries”, Abretok being out last name spelled backwards. I have used this idea to identify many aspects of my life so it seemed logical that I use it as a heading for my various small enterprises. In the sidebar to your right you will find various links. I will post links to the other sited related to Abretok Industries.

Rainbird Studios is the name of the recording studio where I record Demo’s and albums for musicians on an extremely tight budget. It started as my parents’ basement and still geographically is. My parents, Pete and Georgia Koterba, have been wonderfully supportive in all of my endeavors throughout my life. They have also been extremely tolerant of the racket produced by those endeavors. They are great people! I have a MySpace page set up for the studio to show some of the work done there.

Rainbird Photograbers is an extension of Rainbird Studio’s and is where you can view my attempts at capturing imagery with a camera. It will also be the place to view Items I have for sale. I have recently started hand making bracelets, key fobs and zipper pulls out of parachute cord. In addition to these items, there will be various examples of art on display for purchase. I was recently hired to sculpt scrap metal bonsai trees for a friends wedding. I will post pictures of these after the special day. I enjoyed welding at work when I had the opportunity and the prospects of using metal as a medium for art is interesting and exciting to me. Anyone interested in purchasing items from me can email me at koterba13@gmail.com

Fo those of you that are new to this site, Abretokia will be the place for news and updates regarding all of my outlets which includes a book I’ve started writing. I will also, from time to time, post stories meant purely for entertainment. I already have a few of them up. Some of these stories are fiction, some are real life experiences. I generally try to avoid anything strongly political but occasionally current events so strongly occupy my brain that it will come out in a post. Mostly, I want to inform you of things in my not so important life and hopefully make you smile if not laugh out loud.

I look forward to hearing from you all. Please feel free to comment at will but, be sure to check out my post entitled “To warn or not to warn”.

Sincerely,
Chris koterba

One of my newest obsessions!!

I found this on line. It is posted on the link at the end of this article. I strongly encourage you to check out this group. The download is free and the site is a great place to find new music.

The Diablo Swing Orchestra dates back to 1501 in Sweden, where history tells the tale of an orchestra that played like no other. With music so seductive and divine that the ensemble overwhelmed audiences all over the country, and people from all social classes took them to their hearts. Their performances rapidly earned a reputation of being feral and vigorous and gained the orchestra a devoted crowd that followed them around.

During the later half of the 16'th century the criticism against the royal crown dictatorial ruling had intensified. Gifts and tenancies had made the chruch extremely wealthy, and since the money merely was used to strengthen their power the discontent among the people was growing. To many people the orchestra presented them to a new view upon things and a way to cope with everyday life.

The church witnessed how their influence over the people decreased and began to depict the orchestra as treacherous, saying their intentions were anything but righteous. The orchestras extensive use of the prohibited tritonus interval in their music as well as their excessive lifestyles was facts that were not looked mildly upon. During church services priests slandered the music saying it was an insult to Christ himself. However, when this attempt to reduce the orchestras popularity failed, the church began to use more desperate measures in order to regain its former power. The Devils orchestra became the slogan they used and the members were accused of being everything from devil worshippers to the spawn of Satan. This catchphrase eventually caught on and became the popular name of the orchestra. When even these efforts shown futile the church ultimately framed the orchestra members for a murder and a ruthless manhunt began. The following two years the orchestra lead the lives of outlaws and were forced to perform in barns and outhouses, where only a strictly limited number of people were allowed to attend. Luckily generous people provided them with food and somewhere to sleep.

In order to capture the orchestra the church issued a reward to the person that could provide such information that lead to the capture of the orchestra. The sum was so large that the orchestra, tired and weary of living as fugitives, realised that it all had come to and end. They knew that sooner or later someone would reveal their whereabouts and the decided to go down in style.
But before doing so they all signed a pact saying that their descendants were given the task of reuniting the orchestra in 500 years and continue their work of spreading thought-provoking music. Six envelopes were therefore sealed and given to trustees of the orchestra to pass on to family members.

They announced their final concert publicly as a grandeur finale. Thousands of people showed up and even though it was almost no one who could actually hear the music, the massive sing-along of the crowd granted the performance to be the most talked about in history. Thanks to the huge amount of people the orchestra was allowed to play until their last song when armed guards finally managed to storm the stage and arrest the musicians. They were sent prison and later sentenced to death by hanging.

Stockholm 2003, by mere accident two of the original orchestra descendants meet in a music shop and began to discuss music. It later shows that they both have received a strange letter from some ancient relative containing instructions on how to reunite The Devils Orchestra. They both become very excited and though some genealogy they managed to find all of the remaining successors in a period of three months.

Unfortunate all of the original scores were confiscated and burned by the church back in 1503. So music-wise the new orchestra were left with no directions on what to play. After some meticulous discussions it was agreed upon that the music should be like a modern version of the old orchestra. Annlouice was chosen to front the band, her angelic yet powerful operatic voice was perfect to bring a bombastic feeling to the music. Pontus dance-influences and programming skills came in handy since the orchestra wanted the arrangements to sound a bit more futuristic. He shares guitar duties with Daniel who also is the main composer in the band. Andy brought some groove to the mix adding powerful slapping and funk-oriented bass licks, while Andreas's energetic drumming made sure the songs are driven and pulsating. Together with Anders, he lays the solid swinging foundation of the band. Johannes's theoretical knowledge and stunning technique combined with an emotive cello-playing style made him essential to the bands sound.

Together they answer to the name of Diablo Swing Orchestra and are determined to honour the legacy of their ancestors.

You can download their first full release if you follow the link in my sidebar. It takes you right to the bands page. The album is FREE. This website is a good place to find new and upcoming bands. I hope you check it out.

Sit in with "Francesca and Friends"!!

I recently captured some footage of us rehearsing a Dave Carter tune called "Crocodile Man". I was curious about the quality of my cameras movie capturing so I tested it out on this song and it's not that bad so I thought I would share it. I hope you enjoy.

PS. Evidently the footage can be a little cranky to get to play, However, if you reload the page, it should work. Let me know if it doesn't work for you and I will look into it.
Thanks

Late night at Work.

He sat in front of his computer and waited for the clock on his company phone to say it was seven PM and that it was time for him to leave. It was the day before Thanksgiving and everyone else in the building had left to enjoy the four day weekend. During his employment with the company he had worked all three shift and was familiar with the noises that can be heard in the building between the hours of way too late and far too early which is why the noise had startled him out of a slack jawed stare at the screen in front of him.

This was not a normal noise.

He thought maybe his imagination, which had been Bruce Bannered into a raging behemoth by a steady diet of horror movies and heavy metal, was getting some unnecessary exercise when he heard the noise again. He sat ramrod straight, head tilted with a face full of eyes. He knew that sound. He also knew what that sound meant. Had not “His Majesty King Romero” been educating him on this subject for decades? Despair welled up in him as he realized how woefully unprepared his cubicle was to withstand the assault of what was surely dragging its way toward him.

Zombies

Quickly he pulled himself together and called upon his years of training. Anyone who’s spent time learning the craft of horror movie survival knows in order to kill a zombie you have to “Remove the head or destroy the brain” (Thank you “Shawn of the Dead”). He cast around for weapons but he knew the search was futile. Had he been closer to the shop door he would have access to a veritable buffet of bludgeoning devices. But the situation was this; he was trapped in his office cubicle and surrounded by, what has to be, a vast horde of brain-thirsty zombies and if he was ever going to survive, he needed to stop thinking about what he didn’t have and use what he did.

He looked around. He could throw his monitor. No, it was too heavy and only allowed one shot. There were three ring binders, manuals, office supplies, and coffee cups; none of which would be any good against a swarm of ravenous reanimated corpses. He could hear the seconds’ crash to the floor as they fell from the clock. The grunting, dragging sound of impending disembowelment and consumption grew louder by the moment,

It was then he remembered the wrench! He had loaned the wrench to one of the service mechanics and had gotten it back earlier in the week. It was in the bottom drawer of his desk. He scrabbled for it and pulled it out. Two and a half feet of carbon steel with salvation written all over it felt like a kiss from an angel. It didn’t have all the bells and whistle of ditch blade or even a standard shove or cricket bat but it would do the trick it getting him out of this office and buying him some time so come up with a plan.

He put on his coat, tied his handkerchief around his face, to protect him from flying, infected gore, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He crept toward the entrance of his cubicle and paused to focus his strength. With a mighty bellow that would sound at home in the Halls of Valhalla he leapt out of his cubicle and severely traumatized the innocent cleaning lady who had been trying take out a trash bag someone had carelessly over filled.

He has recently had his hours changed and now leaves with the rest of the employees in his department.