In the words of Jim Morrison: “People are strange.”
Not just a job but a career
I noticed today that this business in a nearby town was looking for a “feedloader.” I racked my brain trying to figure out what that was until I realized the company was a feed store. They wanted someone to load feed. Yes, that would be a great job for me. When pigs fly in a hell that’s frozen over.
Actually, when I first saw the employment notice I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I thought it said “freeloader.” I said now that’s a job I could sink my teeth into — making my living by living off others. As long as you don’t have any pride being a freeloader can be quite the career move.
It’s funny. I don’t hear the term “freeloader” so much these days. I wonder if it has become an archaic term? I wonder if I have become an archaic person? I’m sure there is probably a politically correct term to describe one who lives off the fortune of others. Wait, isn’t it called a politician? Yuk, yuk, yuk.
The cat in the picture. It may or may not be a freeloader. It probably has all sorts of big ambitions, especially chasing those mice in its peaceful slumber. Sweet dreams kitty.
What's down that black hole?
Methinks this pipe looks into a black subterranean hole. But then, is what I think really important?
Today was very windy. It was a lot windier than Christmas day when my friend Sarah and I went to the beach. That was also when I took the above photo. I don’t know what the pipe is about. It’s a rusty pipe but it seems pretty firmly planted in the ground. I still wonder just how far down that pipe goes. I bet if I really wanted to, I could find out when and why that pipe was placed there on McFaddin Beach, Texas. But I have more pressing things to do. Like watching NCIS. I know, I know. That’s pretty pathetic. I only went out once today, by the way, and that was to run down to the corner store. My absence from outside didn’t have anything to do with it being a blustery day. I was tied up on a project that seems harder than I thought it would be after I thought it wouldn’t be hard right after I thought it would be damn near next to impossible. Got that? Good. Later dude and dudettes!
I'm sinking in …
Technorati quicksand. Today’s EFD ranking on Technorati: 490,290. Saturday’s ranking: 488,862. Oh please he’p me. Throw me a stick. Throw me a steak. Throw me a party!!!!
Where's your duck, man?
Rick Dees, the father of Disco’s ugliest duckling.
Procrastinating is what I am doing right now. Okay, that’s not really something dirty, unless, say, you are procrastinating over whether to throw a drowning person a flotation device. Then, that isn’t really dirty either. It’s just not very nice. Reckless. Maybe a felony. Such actions certainly won’t get you a gold lifesaving medal. But I prattle.
Actually I am putting off some research for a contract tech writing project I have. Like many academic pursuits I remember from college it is interesting once you dive off into it. The problem is getting on the diving board. What’s with this whole swimming theme, by the way?
Perhaps it’s because I was thinking of one of worst songs known to man: “Disco Duck” by Rick Dees. Dees, who now has a widely syndicated radio music program, unleashed this horrible waste of vinyl(which is final)during the equally horrendous disco era a.k.a. the End of the World As We Know It. Disco was responsible for the decay of cities, declining morals, and polyester leisure suits which in turn were the cause of the catastrophic:
Disco inferno.
It was a bad scene all around. Worse yet was the music from this wart on the nose of society that was disco. Rick Dees and his so-called “Cast of Idiots” certainly didn’t cause what some said was disco fever but was really more of a pox. Neither did Dees in his Donald Duck voice advance human kind with a song that basically is about someone who goes to a party, starts getting into the the music and commits the one social blunder that your mother warned you about for which you should have taken heed: That is to get up in public and start flapping your arms like a duck.
Incidentally, the lyrics also mention that the subject “began to cluck” which means he probably was going to dance like a chicken but I suppose “Disco Chicken” would have been less than catchy. (Less than Disco Duck?)I mean, even if you are hypnotized you want to avoid acting like any type of fowl but here was Rick Dees and his idiots suggesting one should do just the opposite.
A very, very sad part of what passes for our culture that whole episode. And what happened to the duck? What do you think?
Doesn’t it just break your heart?