My scanner isn’t working today, so instead of giving you a picture, I’ll give you a thousand words.
Actually, nah. I’ll save those thousand words for the post with the picture. Instead, I’ll give you a catch-phrase:
“This is MY kinda Thursday.”
Feel free to use it whenever you wish.
There’s only one justifiable reason for a man to shoot another man: Practice.
So… Let’s see… If I were a doctor I would get to call myself Dr. Ryall. But If I were a Boxer, I wouldn’t get to call myself Bxr. Ryall? This society is even more corrupt than I had originally believed it to be! To Hell With You ALL!
That is the way of my man.
The Elephant Man!
It looks like I’m about to have a couple of bad nights at work. I fully expect to be even more bitter than usual very soon.
I hate my job. It’s probably not healthy how much I hate my job. I have the same constant dull headache and sensitivity to light that bothered me all through school, but at least there were some things about school that I liked. I hate my job. And I don’t get Summer off anymore.
I want to quit, but then I’d have to start some other job where I’m not paid as much. And loathe though I am to spend a life for no reason beyond acquiring wealth, that seems to be how this society wants me to go about this.
But I can say that a certain local newspaper is lucky I’m not half the pyromaniac the congregation of St. Andrews Catholic Church believed me to be when I was a child.
So today I had the good luck to stand in line in front of some loud complainy women at the Superstore who vehemently cursed any employee who wasn’t in the process of opening another lane so they could be done quicker. If they cared as much about the existence of entire nations filled with disease, famine and poverty (in the twenty-first century!) as they did about spending three minutes in a line to buy a handful of the plentiful food we have here, I’d be a less bitter person.
But anyway, I’m going to leave you with a picture for a change:
I propose that some Hollywood studio should make a computer animated movie about animals that go on some manner of adventure. It’s too good an idea to fail! Now, I shall accept some small fraction of the profits made by any such movies, but I’ll let the filmmakers keep the rest. Bring it on!
I’ve got another long night of work ahead of me now and humanity shall gain nothing from my doing it. Sigh… Why do I even wake up anymore?
Clocks can time-travel,
When they are used correctly.
So can sundials.
If a doctor can cure a disease, why can’t a boxer cure a bisease? I demand a satisfactory answer.