Another Year With Nothing To Do
And so, here endeth, at least chronologically, the Year of Sorrows.
That sad and sickly thing that went for my jugular with such ferocity that it frequently bordered on the comical.
The year that boasted it could do me in; the year that dared me to draw another breath; the year that turned living into a torpid miasma of fear and horror.
Chickens came home to roost with an almost homicidal efficiency and lessons were taught with unsympathetic precision.
It would be nice if the year’s end meant that we were moving on to other things. In truth, however, it probably means more of the same.
Let’s face it. There’s absolutely no reason to look forward to 2007.
Before we call for the house pistol, though, let’s take a closer look and see whether things are as black as they seem.
Surely if, like George Bailey, I could see what the world would be like if I’d never been born, I could appreciate how important I am in the scheme of things.
Let’s look in on the wife:
Man: More caviar, dear?
Woman: I really shouldn’t!
All right, bad example.
Wait, that fellow there, he looks familiar! Didn’t he become my next door neighbor?
Man: It’s so quiet and peaceful out here, isn’t it?
Woman: Oh my, yes. Aren’t we lucky that some maniac isn’t beating the hell out of a piano with the window open?
Man: As if!
Perhaps if we switch gears and see how our civil servants are doing. This postman, for example:
Man: You’re looking well, Charlie.
Postman: Thanks, Ed. I’m just really lucky that I don’t have a route that burdens me with large packages full of useless crap every day.
Man: I heard that!
What about those two women speaking conspiratorially?
Woman 1: Well, that’s exactly right. I mean…
Woman 2: Exactly! If my first sexual experience had been with, you know, some jerk who didn’t know what he was doing…
Woman 1: Well, sure! It could have put you off it for life. I mean, you hear about some poor girls…
Woman 2: I pity them. I’m so thankful for my Herbert.
Woman 1: As am I.
One last chance. That chipper looking shopkeeper:
Man (to business partner): I think we’ve taken in more money this week than in any week since we opened.
Other Man: Sure, but…
Man: And you wanted to open a “Noisy, Obscure Import CD’s and Anything With The Simpsons On It” store!
Other Man: All right, I'm an idiot!
I give up. Where’s that confounded bridge?
That sad and sickly thing that went for my jugular with such ferocity that it frequently bordered on the comical.
The year that boasted it could do me in; the year that dared me to draw another breath; the year that turned living into a torpid miasma of fear and horror.
Chickens came home to roost with an almost homicidal efficiency and lessons were taught with unsympathetic precision.
It would be nice if the year’s end meant that we were moving on to other things. In truth, however, it probably means more of the same.
Let’s face it. There’s absolutely no reason to look forward to 2007.
Before we call for the house pistol, though, let’s take a closer look and see whether things are as black as they seem.
Surely if, like George Bailey, I could see what the world would be like if I’d never been born, I could appreciate how important I am in the scheme of things.
Let’s look in on the wife:
Man: More caviar, dear?
Woman: I really shouldn’t!
All right, bad example.
Wait, that fellow there, he looks familiar! Didn’t he become my next door neighbor?
Man: It’s so quiet and peaceful out here, isn’t it?
Woman: Oh my, yes. Aren’t we lucky that some maniac isn’t beating the hell out of a piano with the window open?
Man: As if!
Perhaps if we switch gears and see how our civil servants are doing. This postman, for example:
Man: You’re looking well, Charlie.
Postman: Thanks, Ed. I’m just really lucky that I don’t have a route that burdens me with large packages full of useless crap every day.
Man: I heard that!
What about those two women speaking conspiratorially?
Woman 1: Well, that’s exactly right. I mean…
Woman 2: Exactly! If my first sexual experience had been with, you know, some jerk who didn’t know what he was doing…
Woman 1: Well, sure! It could have put you off it for life. I mean, you hear about some poor girls…
Woman 2: I pity them. I’m so thankful for my Herbert.
Woman 1: As am I.
One last chance. That chipper looking shopkeeper:
Man (to business partner): I think we’ve taken in more money this week than in any week since we opened.
Other Man: Sure, but…
Man: And you wanted to open a “Noisy, Obscure Import CD’s and Anything With The Simpsons On It” store!
Other Man: All right, I'm an idiot!
I give up. Where’s that confounded bridge?
posted by Count Screwloose at 5:06 AM
2 Comments:
You need to apply to go on Mr T's TV show. He would show you the way.
The wife ran into him on the street in NYC once. When she asked him for advice, he told her, "If you believe in yourself, drink your school, stay in drugs, and don't do milk - you can get work!"
RG
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