State senators are hiding to avoid a vote which wouldn't be taking away any pay or pensions from anybody. Its just unions getting pissy because they won't be able to throw their weights around as much. And some people wonder why I think unions suck. Get back to work, you whiney bitches.
Joe Arnold had a bunch of questions that demand answers. Who am I to refuse his demands?
Why do we drive on a parkway, and park on a driveway?
Here in Virginia we have Skyline Drive which overlooks Shenandoah National Park. Its a very lovely drive. Very scenic. It was deemed a "parkway" due to it overlooking the park. Since then many very long, scenic roads have been referred to as "parkways". Driveways used to be much different than we know now. Many very large homes and manors had very long driveways leading from the house to the main road. Back then you really did drive on the drive way, since if you had the money for a personal carriage or the like you usually had a lot of property.
What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Assuming you're referring to the European swallow, around 24 miles per hours.
Can't we all get along?
Yes we can. As long as everybody agrees with everything I say and does everything I tell them then we'll all get along just fine.
How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?
Usually the answer is blowing in the wind, but that's the kind off crap answer you can expect from some hippy, and this here is a no hippy zone. The path to being a real man isn't about the quantity of roads, its about the quality. You can walk a hundred roads, but if they're all named "Easy Street" then you won't be much of a man. Its those long, rough roads that make you a man. The ones with lots of detours and shortcuts that look real tempting but don't take you anywhere worthwhile. And a real man is always walking that road and sometimes showing the way to those who need guidance. Those who stay true to the road get they're reward when they reach that destination, and hopefully leave clear footprints so others will know the path they walked.
I got the call Sunday evening after a full day or working and torturing children. "Dave just about cut his finger off, so I'm really needing you to work this week." The details were sketchy but when fingers are possibly missing its time to spring into action. Seems Dave had an accident while splitting wood over the weekend and took off a good portion of his middle finger. He'll be needing a skin graft which hopefully he'll be able to get soon to speed up his recovery. Nonetheless, I was out at the beach on Monday to try to help out and Dave made it out too hoping he'd still be able to work in his condition. Turns out he's still pretty capable, but every so ofter he gets a nasty jolt for wound.
So we were destroying a few walls and cutting up some floor and one thing we had to do was more an amour in the next room so it wouldn't get damaged. There was a small TV in it so I picked it up to move it and there he was: Ben Franklin.
I've found a lot of things in houses as I've worked in them. I've found porn stashes and sex toys. I've found things that home owners really should have cleaned up before I've gotten there. I've found a few bucks here and there that I never touched because that's a damn good way to lose your job.
This was different. This was a winterized beach house that no one had stayed in for months. We don't even know the last time the owner was there. But there was the most money I've ever found in a house that was essentially deserted. Was it a trap? Had the home owner planted it to test the honesty of the people working there? Had the last renter been just really absent-minded?
Oh how that one bill tormented us as we worked. It was like a test of our moral fortitude. We could have split it. Dave needed more bandages for his finger. There's a book I really wanted to buy. What could we do?
I won't tell you what we did.
But I will say I'm going to the comic shop happy today.
Those schmucks drive around in their cars blasting bass to the point to rattling windows. There used to be competitions to see whose car's sound system had the most bass. People would buy those stupid cars that look like toasters on wheels for the acoustics so they could really get their bass going.
Dumb bastards don't know shit about bass. Hit it Les.
That's the shooting match for today. I'm going to get some more work done. See y'all Friday. Behave yourselves. And if you can't, send me pictures.