When you have a ridiculous claim made by persons of some significance you have to remember that somewhere, even in the most unbelievable lies, there is some truth. If you really break down what it means to lie, you'll find that it is impossible to lie without including some truth somewhere. So when a guy in Russia claims that they have super soldiers with psychic super powers, there is some essence of the truth somewhere in there. Now of course another Russian guy claimed that none of the soldiers have psychic super powers, this does not stop there from being truth in both claims. How does the Russian army having super powers affect me? It affects me in that I will have the same reaction to it that I had when I found out that I had malware on my computer. I will eat cherries. I don't know what to do about Russian super soldiers or malware, but I do have some cherries still sitting in my fridge, just waiting to get demolished.
Maybe the claim is just propaganda designed to incite worry in the political enemies of Russia. Or maybe it's a boast by a government that can actually predict the future and they already know how things turn out. Either way, my rechargeable batteries hold a charge longer than my non slip restaurant shoes stay together. So the batteries were a good investment and the restaurant business is pretty hard on restaurant shoes. That's my life. The only time I would worry about the rest of the world and specifically psychic super soldiers, is if they showed up at my door. I am not expecting either, so I'm not worried.
I don't think that psychic powers are real, period. I don't think that anyone can levitate, read minds or jump up walls like in Kung-fu movies. I think that I have a shift tomorrow and I forgot to check the reservation list to prepare myself mentally for how many it's going to be. I like to always prepare the same way no matter how many it is, so the checking is a bit redundant I guess. I once borrowed the Encyclopedia of Parasychology and something else and then took it to McDonald's to read and take notes. For a class? Nope, it was a day off and I had a great time. You wouldn't believe how compatible chicken nuggets and demonology are.
Nothing about all the curses and rituals that I read about made me think that any of it was even remotely possible. The outcomes expected by the performers of the rituals and curses, that's the stuff that I thought was bs. Just about anybody could have performed the rituals. I mean how hard could it be to put on shoes caked with the dirt from the yard of your first home, drip some blood from your hand into a tub of diced onions and then dump it on a plate surrounded by 9 lit candles. Easy peasy dude, but the girl that was supposed to beat down my door in order to get into bed with me hasn't come by yet. I don't think it's going to happen, it's been two weeks.
I think I want the job of testing the psychic powers and mastery of the psychic super soldiers. If they are such masters of everything like the original article claimed, then let's see them build a comfortable, functional recliner out of nothing but scrap metal, wood and the combined leather of 38 used pairs of Nike boots. Let them prove the diversity of their mastering skills by becoming world champion weight lifters while singing at the opera house every night. I think if you're going to make a claim like "masters of everything" we have to have some pretty compelling evidence in order to buy in.
I feel excited when I think about the possibilities of psychic powers being used in warfare. It's exactly the kind of fiction that I would like to read about or watch at the movies. Hearing that it's supposed to be real is a bit of a downer. I want fun things like that to stay out of the news and in my personal library of books, movies and video games. One non fictional thing that I would be really excited to receive would be a free notepad. I would probably take any free notepads offered to me no matter what the promotion was. It could be at a stand that said "Was Hitler Really Wrong?" If those sons of bitches were giving away free notepads, I'd at least stick around long enough to get one. I can always just mark out their branding. Hearing psychic powers in the news is like going to your favorite bar for reduced price shots night, but the shots are only expiring beer and vinegar turned wine. Strictly no liquor. This is the kind of disappointment that I go through when I get my hopes up for psychic powers, only to have the realistic part of me tell the naive, creative part of me to go fuck itself.
Ultimately, I'm pretty certain that I read somewhere that both the US and Russian governments have wasted money on trying to make psychic super soldiers. So at least we have someone to be really stupid with. It's pretty fun to make an ass of yourself when you are alone, but it's so much better when you have company. I could worry myself as to whether there are people out there capable of reading my mind and seeing all the violent tranny porn that I've streamed in 4k the last few weekends, or I could just keep doing one day at a time. I am as likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger as I am to strike up a conversation about psychic powers or violent, 4k tranny porn. Close behind is the likelihood that I might intentionally water down a diet coke and then kick back in my Nike boots recliner to read over the geometry notes that I wrote when I was sixteen. So, not all that likely.
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Comedy Story: One of Many Terrible Gigs
I only worked for 1 week at this horrible, ridiculously amateurish place in Cashiers, NC. The boss was a complete overreaction machine, and a permanently looping scream and sigh sound sample. Almost everyone there was an amateur server that could not actually make it in a real serving setting. The kitchen was a bunch of egotistical trash and fake tough guys. There was no communication, just bitching and there was shitty pay. The boss thought the place was some super upscale place where we should all be honored that we got to put on their legendary uniform. The uniform was rotten and had incredibly obvious sweat stains from overuse. We sat our tables like they were to be fine dining, then we served quesadillas and played pop country music through the speakers. Fine dining indeed, I'm surprised that there wasn't an ongoing game of ultimate frisbee among the posh members and the idiot staff.
This was the kind of place that only the most ignorant of hospitality workers would think of as something to be proud of. The workers weren't even tipped and none of the servers bused their own tables. They needed help carrying trays. The kitchen expo didn't put the plates down on the trays in the order that they appeared on the ticket. So it took longer to figure out where everything goes because you had to flip back through your notepad. Working at this place would be like going to college on a football scholarship and then ending up a used car salesman by the end of the next year. The chef acted like his work was as serious as conducting an occult ritual when all he was really doing was playing Monopoly. The manager acted like a 20 year IT professional that could debug a nuclear satellite. Her maturity and leadership were more comparable to a 33 year old basement dweller with zero work history. The whole place was clueless.
My week there was during a stressful part of the year for them because they were all amateurs. They couldn't handle more than three tables at a time per person. You do have to give props where it's due, the bartender there was really top notch. She was knowledgeable, quick, charming and skilled. Absolutely the best thing about the place. Hardly anyone appreciated her and the membership certainly seemed to look down on her. The food looked like what you get served on an airplane. The pretentious chef was the kind of guy that would put in house made pizza bites on chicken Marsala and then would explain it away by reciting the history of crossover dishes.
I would rather volunteer to go vaccinate people in a third world country than to work another day at that train wreck of a club. And I'm the kind of guy who can't stand needles or poverty. This was the kind of place where you could order apple cider and might end up being served toxic waste. Then you'd have a fruitless argument with the manager about how safe it was to consume as the stuff melted through glass and then the table.
It may sound like I got my feelings hurt at this job.That would be because I did get my feelings hurt. I worked as honestly and as hard as I possibly could for them only to have them treat me like total shit. Well I did learn something from this terrible experience, never work with amateurs. I don't want to be the only competent person around, just waiting on everyone else to catch up. These people were the kind of workers that would fail to recognize that there was an issue with a broken AC unit in the summertime. Maybe it's not a huge deal if it's broken for a little while, but you have to at least report it. It's a huge issue if the AC stops working and it only shoots out hot air and refuses to turn off. The staff at this well dressed dump would have said "What's the big deal? Just open the doors and windows." Never mind that it will be suffocatingly hot for everyone involved, they would just go around telling everyone to toughen up.
I hope the place gets it together. I hope that they fire the manager and get a real chef so that they can make something special out of the place. They did have a beautiful venue and there probably were some good people out there in the membership. Ending up stuck working there for any amount of time would have been less preferable than having a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and then getting abducted by aliens. The aliens would have likely acted with more respect and decency than that clueless screamaholic manager.
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Comedy Story: Serial Killers
Serial killers have done so many people wrong and I just want to know why society doesn't punish them much more harshly than it does. I don't know if serial killers should be erased from history and their victims memorialized, or if they should be publicly tortured, or what. But it seems like there should be some kind of deterrent to the worst behavior imaginable in a human. I also do not understand why serial killers do what they do. If it's perverted thrill seeking, then why don't they play beach volleyball in a haunted house or something. As long as they played the awful mainstream music of the day, there would surely be some haunting in retaliation for that alone.
Why can't serial killers just be in to real stuff? Invent the greatest lamp of all time. Or create a portable lamp so that you can read interesting books way deep down in a creepy cavern. Have yourself a collection of odd pens. Maybe you could build a cavern out of pens and then explore it with your portable lamp. That would at least take a lot of time and would surely impress someone. The serial killer doesn't want any of that, they want to be worshiped and adored for being pure evil, and sadly they are.
Obviously serial killers are sick people that have been conditioned towards evil. They must surely have been born to be that kind of evil too. I guess they seem to always attack young, beautiful people because they think that will get the most press. We haven't seen a serial killer yet that breaks into nursing homes and murders all the patients. Most of them never have visitors, family or otherwise. So there wouldn't be that much outrage publicly. I think most nursing homes are government owned so for some, cleaning out the nursing home would be an act of patriotism. "Country has an 8 gajillion dollar deficit so we need to save money where we can. Thanks for your service Mr. Crazy eyes."
I could never be a serial killer. I could never run out of pointless things to do. Before I would start stalking some broad that I saw walking down the street from the window of a Wendy's, I would start writing letters to the Sasquatch Search Institute. Which is probably a group home cabin in the woods full of crazies. But that would be an interesting place to begin a correspondence with. Much more interesting than writing letters to my admiring fans after I butcher a few hookers and end up behind bars.
Serial killers should be in unethical scientific experiments. They should be put into a gladiatorial cage match fight to the death with other evil people on pay-per-view. There should be entire Industries formed around marketing and destroying serial killers. The money is split between the victims and the businesses that put on the events, and the serial killers and their families receive nothing.
But maybe we should be more like serial killers in one specific way. We should be more committed to what we really want. In a way serial killers are the ultimate go getters. Also, go get hers. No amount of social pressure will ever keep you from doing what you want. If I pursue my goals the way they pursue filet of hooker I might be further ahead in life. But I don't do that and I won't be doing that. I'm more likely to answer an ad in the paper looking for someone to help count a collection of rusty razor blades. Better get my tetanus shot.
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Why can't serial killers just be in to real stuff? Invent the greatest lamp of all time. Or create a portable lamp so that you can read interesting books way deep down in a creepy cavern. Have yourself a collection of odd pens. Maybe you could build a cavern out of pens and then explore it with your portable lamp. That would at least take a lot of time and would surely impress someone. The serial killer doesn't want any of that, they want to be worshiped and adored for being pure evil, and sadly they are.
Obviously serial killers are sick people that have been conditioned towards evil. They must surely have been born to be that kind of evil too. I guess they seem to always attack young, beautiful people because they think that will get the most press. We haven't seen a serial killer yet that breaks into nursing homes and murders all the patients. Most of them never have visitors, family or otherwise. So there wouldn't be that much outrage publicly. I think most nursing homes are government owned so for some, cleaning out the nursing home would be an act of patriotism. "Country has an 8 gajillion dollar deficit so we need to save money where we can. Thanks for your service Mr. Crazy eyes."
I could never be a serial killer. I could never run out of pointless things to do. Before I would start stalking some broad that I saw walking down the street from the window of a Wendy's, I would start writing letters to the Sasquatch Search Institute. Which is probably a group home cabin in the woods full of crazies. But that would be an interesting place to begin a correspondence with. Much more interesting than writing letters to my admiring fans after I butcher a few hookers and end up behind bars.
Serial killers should be in unethical scientific experiments. They should be put into a gladiatorial cage match fight to the death with other evil people on pay-per-view. There should be entire Industries formed around marketing and destroying serial killers. The money is split between the victims and the businesses that put on the events, and the serial killers and their families receive nothing.
But maybe we should be more like serial killers in one specific way. We should be more committed to what we really want. In a way serial killers are the ultimate go getters. Also, go get hers. No amount of social pressure will ever keep you from doing what you want. If I pursue my goals the way they pursue filet of hooker I might be further ahead in life. But I don't do that and I won't be doing that. I'm more likely to answer an ad in the paper looking for someone to help count a collection of rusty razor blades. Better get my tetanus shot.
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For further news about serial killers, thank our friends in Detroit: https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/local/detroit-city/2019/09/05/medical-examiner-serial-killer-victims-died-blunt-force-head-trauma/2222788001/
If you have a thing for really stupid entertainment related to ghosts and serial killers then click here: https://www.newsweek.com/what-ghost-adventures-serial-killer-spirits-everything-we-know-about-october-special-episodes-1457848
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Comedy Story: Wilderness Survival Skills
Wilderness survival skills are the extra credit of life that isn't actually optional like the teacher might lead you to believe. If you're stuck out in the wild, can you think of anything more useful than being able to survive? I'd say that being able to survive would be the number one most important skill out there. So you never learned how to be an accountant like your dad wanted. No biggie, you'll never have to pay taxes if you just live in the woods of a national forest. Nobody is going to want to go to the trouble of coming after you either. Think you're gonna miss having a hot water heater and a shower? Not likely after you start hunting with your custom made bow you fashioned out of dear antlers. Is there anything more bad ass than hunting with the parts you took from a prior hunt? That would be like when the great grizzly bear lord of the woods kills me then starts using my bones as projectile weapons. Maybe he'd fashion pimp cane out of my legs.
Only problem is, why are wilderness survival skills so hard to learn? It took me probably four hours to be able to start a fire using a Swedish fire steel tool. It's one of those things were you scrape a hard thing against another hard thing and sparks shoot out. The box said it was good for like 38,000 swipes or something like that. That first session with the tool probably used about half of those swipes. Reminds me of when I was a kid at the store. I was checking out Italian for Dummies thinking how cool it would be to be able to order pizza in another language. I put it down after a while and bought colored pencils instead. A lot less time investment is required of you to start scribbling on a page. Actually, I wasn't a kid, this was last weekend.
I probably won't ever get into wilderness survival skills enough for them to save my life. I'm really not sure that I would want to keep living in the circumstances where I would need wilderness survival skills. Has the world ended? Did the four horseman of the apocalypse show up with the anti-christ and start a metal band? That's the depth of my understanding when it comes to Revelation. My survive the apocalypse plan will be ear muffs and a cave in the woods. Preferably not one that includes a family of bears. If there are bears in the cave and they are not friendly, I still do not mind becoming the pimp cane of a bear. I hold firm to that stance.
A part of me wants to learn enough about surviving in the woods that I can just be dropped in the wilderness and just start drinking my own pee and eating bugs and make it out of there like it was a vacation in the Bahamas. If I ever decide to totally give up on life, instead of killing myself I'll just go live in the woods. Shoot small game with my arrows that I learn how to carve at some point. Live in a hut covered with moss and wear dear skin as my clothes. Speaking of giving up on life, I once spilled some milk onto my art appreciation text book and I wondered for a few seconds if I should just pour the rest of the gallon milk jug on the book. Why did I have that thought? I don't know, I guess I'm a jackass.
I feel fear when I think about survival in the wilderness. Mostly because I could memorize all the information in the books on the subject, but then not be able to execute the skills when I need them. Then I would feel great disappointment that I wasted all that fucking time learning the skills. In the same way that you do not create an Ebay account just to buy one used dart board, I do not want to invest my time and money in survival skills that I will never get to use, or can't execute.
So will I give survival training a try? Yes. Will I half ass it? Not likely as it puts the fear of death in me. Will my devotion to the craft do me any good in an actual survival situation? Almost certainly not.
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Comedy Story: The Surreal
Some moments are like dreams, inexplicable in their bizarreness but somehow familiar. When we are thinking of moments such as these, we are thinking of the surreal. Working in the restaurant business and meeting people in general has given me a lot of experience with the surreal. A favorite of mine is when someone interrupts you to ask a question when you have impeccably explained yourself already. You just wonder to yourself, why did I even speak? If I cannot be understood in the terms that I have just provided, then can I be understood at all? Maybe I don't actually have a mouth. Maybe I'm just this awkward mouthless thing that goes around making muffled grunting noises at people and they just sometimes humor me with responses.
So it mostly boils down to miscommunication, this surreal stuff at work. I asked you what you'd like to eat this evening and you just stare at me like I used to be a painting and I just walked out of the wall and started asking you questions. You tell me and everyone else that comes near the table something different each time and then wonder why our service has no continuity. Your wondering is as puzzling as anything. To be so lacking in self awareness is really a miracle. Perhaps you think that restaurant workers are operating using a hive mind, in that whatever is communicated to one, the others will all know automatically. In this way, we are all paid the same, because we are all chefs and dishwashers and managers. When one of us comes into work stoned, we all begin laughing at the customer's unfunny jokes.
The Surreal in dealing with people is when you have absolutely no context of what is supposed to be happening or rather you have a general idea, but something totally different is going on that seems to have no logic behind it. Almost every time that I've encountered the surreal at work, it has been on a day when we had a detailed plan for how things were supposed to go. At some point I'll walk out into the front of house and see that not only has the plan gone up in smoke, but the place doesn't even look like real life. There could be customers walking into places where they should not be, people asking questions that nobody could ever predict and varying degrees of stress written on all the faces of everyone involved. Sometimes the most surreal thing is that there is absolutely no stress written on the faces of the people involved, when there definitely should be. It would be like if your friend wrecked his car in a ditch off the side of the road, then just decided to live in that ditch for a few weeks. It's the kind of thing that just cannot be figured out.
One of the surreal aspects of my life is that I own a Russian to English dictionary and I know absolutely no Russian. Nor have I ever wanted to learn Russian. I don't know how or why I came to own the book, yet on my desk it sits. I'm definitely too scared to travel to Russia, so the book serves me no purpose. But I might run into someone who may want it, and then I'll hand it off. It will be like one of those scenes in a dream where you've been divinely tasked with carrying out some mission that seems incredibly mundane. In this life I will have been the man who carried the Russian to English pocket dictionary until I was able to give it to the chosen one, who would make some use of the thing. It's not half bad being a part of a few prophecies here and there.
The Surreal can be frightening but once you've watched people and observed them enough, surreal becomes your preferred state of mind. There is an endless amount of entertainment in observing your fellow man. He or she can claim to be, and act like literally anything imaginable. People are as crazy as the internet is big. And not even Google knows how big the internet really is. Keep in mind that Google knows everything there is to know about you. Google can probably predict when you are going to order another case of Cheerwine and bacon flavored crackers. Google knows that you sometimes go for solo masturbation or violent tranny gangbang in your porn searches. Kinda makes you a little uncomfortable huh?
Experiencing the surreal is fun after the fact. You get to think about what happened and how could things have ended up as weird as they did. You can weigh the benefits of the different actions that you didn't decide to do. You can wonder about how you got in that situation and how you were able to get out unscathed. But mostly, I just reflect on how my life has less love in it each day, and how I'm increasingly not the person that my friends expect me to be. Imagine if our gravestones just said what we thought most often in life. Mine would read "Never met even the slightest expectations." I'm not depressed about it, this website or anything else in as much as I'm depressed about everything to begin with. It's redundant to discuss issues, so I just dream that the people I miss are still around me. At some point I want to convince myself that the life that I live is just some surreal dream that another guy in another reality is just dreaming. He wakes up from my life thinking "Some of that dream was pretty funny, but it was a little too dark for my liking." Me too mate, me too.
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Short Funny Story: Everyone Should Draw
Everyone should draw because drawing makes life better. That is if you are able to just draw for yourself and not worry about what the piece would look like in an art gallery. We shouldn't all be professional artists, but we should all draw. Drawing for yourself is as relaxing as the first time you ever just popped all the pods on a roll of bubble wrap. Talking to a therapist for the same issues that you could just draw is like popping all the bubble wrap pods with a sewing needle. It might be more precise, but you've definitely wasted a lot of time.
People are afraid that others might see what they've drawn. But that's not the point of drawing. You draw for yourself for many many years before you ever draw for an intended audience. Instead of coming home and downing a river of booze after a bad day, try drawing the emotions of your terrible day. This might just be a bunch of vicious scribbles on a scrap piece of paper. You might really get into it and may even break a sweat. This is good! You get the misery out of your system without waging war on your liver. If you're like me, your liver would have loved to have surrendered years ago. The war on my liver is like if the battle of the Alamo lasted until everyone involved died of old age, but kept on casually fighting in the meantime.
I'm not so naive as to think that just because I recommend drawing, that everyone will start doing it. And I can attest to the fact that sometimes it's fun to draw while downing a river of booze. Some people might not even want to draw shapes or anything that looks like something. That's perfectly fine. Automatic drawing can be very cathartic. It's when you don't even look at what you're doing, you just run the pencil over the page as your subconscious demands. It doesn't have to mean anything. And it shouldn't really do anything for you, but somehow it does. Of all the things that people do to feel good, drawing might be the cheapest. Which experience seems more appealing: drawing yourself losing thousands of dollars at the casino, or actually losing thousands of dollars at the casino? One scenario can be laughed off, the other will ruin your credit forever.
There have been times in my life where the only thing that I would do is draw. I wouldn't work, wouldn't leave the house, barely ate, but usually did drink. During those times I would usually look to drawing to help work myself out of the slump. Some people believe that if you draw yourself doing something on paper that you want to do in real life, then it makes it more likely that you'll do whatever it was. That's probably bullshit but it couldn't hurt. I have definitely drawn myself with angel wings floating on top of a mountain of cash, but the only place you'll find me flying is in economy seating.
There is a certain warmth to writing that can be experienced with reading as well. Sometimes it's nice to have something to do with no sound on in the place. Reading in the quiet can be incredibly relaxing. Drawing can be enjoyed quietly or with death metal blaring, it's up to the individual. But I think one should at least try drawing in the still of a quiet room. I don't think humans were ever intended to be in contact with each other as much as we are. Being alone and quiet today is like meditating till you levitated next to a river in the old days. We can always go two steps back towards the never ending merry go round of misery that is daily life, but a little extra time by the river won't kill you. Unless you fall in and can't swim I guess.
Everyone should draw, and some of us might even be really good at it. You might find that it's just what you've been looking for your entire life. You might find that drawing makes life a little less difficult to cope with. That in and of itself makes it worth a shot. Draw yourself in the nude swimming in a factory of cheese puffs. Draw an oak tree coming to life and bellowing Elvis lyrics with a choir of songbirds. I think if I started drawing right now I would better be able to cope with the fact that I have been cooking with onions so much lately that a jacket that I just put on smells like onions. Do I waste the water and power of washing the jacket? Or do I just convince myself that onions are not that an abrasive of a smell? Probably the latter of the two.
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Comedy Story: The Right Outlet Mall Job
In jobs that require you to face the public, you have to answer the question "Do I like going to this place on my own time?" This question is in reference to the place where you are considering employment. I love restaurants and making people happy, so it makes sense that I would enjoy tending bar and serving. I genuinely like being at work when it's busy and I genuinely like getting a check for the hours I work when it is not busy. I do side work and prep things and do all the basic tasks that a restaurant needs to have done. But when it's slow enough to run out of those things, that's when the pen and paper come out and I start jotting down ideas for comedy. Expecting people to find something to do when everything is effectively done is criminally insane. By the way, if you don't pretend like your dish hose is a laser gun and make the appropriate sound effects to convey that while using it, then we can't be friends.
The outlet mall used to be a place where people would go to spend an entire day wasting money that they didn't have, on clothes that they didn't need, for fun. Now it's a place where nobody goes. Except there are some malls where there are still plenty of people. So if you're an introvert and you want an easy job, then put in some leg work on this and find yourself a mall that looks like it was only built to accommodate dust. Have a peek inside the trashcans in the place. If they are full, then this place might have something going on. But if you can't find a single full trashcan, then nobody comes in this place. In other words, it's perfect.
There are probably some malls out there that are doing great. Packed full of people every day and make great sales. These are places you will want to avoid if you don't like dealing with people. If you do, and you think you might enjoy conducting a high volume of transactions, then this will be a great fit. I would prefer to work in a mall where I could hear every step that I take echoing off the walls because of the lack of people. But that's just me. I would like working somewhere where I could leave my "work station" for hours at a time and have nobody notice or care. I need a job where I can fall asleep at my "work station" and not get written up. Did you feel inspired when you read that last line? Because I did when I was proofreading it.
Some people want to work really hard all the time and make a lot of money. To me that is not a worthy trade. I give you all my life, including the time that I have to spend money, and you give me money. That I will never spend. Forgive me because I'm pretty dense, but isn't that just the carrot on a stick dangling in front of a jack ass? Because that's how I feel when I work lot's of hours, like a jack ass with no damn carrot. My version of a carrot would be how much closer I'm getting to my dreams. I think that also works as a metaphor in that if I do nothing but work I will feel effectively dickless, as I would be too tired to have sex if there were a willing partner anywhere near my apartment to begin with. The carrot being the sex.
Working all the time at something that you don't care about is degrading. So don't work like that at a mall that is busy unless that is somehow your dream. If it is, then God bless you and have a good life. But for the people like me that need an uninvolved job that keeps the bills paid and allows us to work on what we really care about, the slow mall is the right mall. Working at a business that is slow, or as a security guard in general is the way to make your hobby into your full time job. Some people call it a life hack. We call those people millennials and they have odd beliefs about gender so don't bring it up.
This is the part where I sing the praises of capitalism. Only in a system as perfectly flawed as this can you consistently land yourself jobs where nothing is expected of you and you're compensated for doing something other than what the job entails. I do jot down plenty of comedy ideas while I'm at work. The job listing when I hired on did not say "Bartender/Server needed, please bring something with you to do on our slow days." Even so, nobody objects, nobody cares, they just want the job done so they can keep making money. As long as you never mess with that, then you are golden.
Capitalism will let you build and program your quantum computer in your aunt and uncle's basement while helping you to have enough money to pay them for the space. They always refuse your money because they are kind hearted and hope you aren't losing your mind, so they haven't told your parents yet that every night you come over and plug into the matrix. Your job by day is to remove malware from the computers of the helpless grannies and pappaws of the world who clicked a fake ad for discount shoes. You'll have enough money to buy your materials, research stuff, and pay your rent. You can probably budget one trip to your favorite restaurant a week if you have cheap taste. All while you change the world and leave a legacy.
Capitalism will let you build and program your quantum computer in your aunt and uncle's basement while helping you to have enough money to pay them for the space. They always refuse your money because they are kind hearted and hope you aren't losing your mind, so they haven't told your parents yet that every night you come over and plug into the matrix. Your job by day is to remove malware from the computers of the helpless grannies and pappaws of the world who clicked a fake ad for discount shoes. You'll have enough money to buy your materials, research stuff, and pay your rent. You can probably budget one trip to your favorite restaurant a week if you have cheap taste. All while you change the world and leave a legacy.
Click here if you have a hobby that you would like to turn into a business: https://e8b2fa0bng3qzbv8xafqmnbo9p.hop.clickbank.net/
Click here if you your spirits need a lifting: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZQxH_8raCI
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