Memoirs

In my ongoing quest to become rich, I recently began preparing my memoirs. Only the richest, most influential people write memoirs – or get them published, I should say. Otherwise every two-bit Jimmy and Jane on the block would be pumping the market full of balloon juice. Beginning this project now will leave me more time to enjoy being rich later. I would assume the full volume will hit the shelves anywhere within the next three to seven years, or whenever it is that I accomplish the remarkable feat that, still unbeknownst to me at this time, will make me an extremely rich person. Let’s just poke our nose in on a random chapter and see what’s cookin’.

Memoirs

….”And so I said to her, that wasn’t a ferret!” Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there. I was just telling a hilarious anecdote to some friends. Anyways, this seems like a good part of the memoir to reveal a major character-shaping event in my life that led me to become who I am today. As we all know, I spent the summer of ’03 working as a “butter melter” under the employ of my uncle Bruce at a dairy plant in a small agrarian town in Minnesota. I spent all day sliding 50 pound blocks of butter into a 250 degree vat where it eventually melted. Not so long after beginning there, the time came for my forklift training. This consisted of me sitting on a forklift in a room full of wooden pallets, and a guy named Fuzzy telling me to “move them around until you’ve got the hang of it.” And so I did. Not soon after, disaster struck. While lifting a stack of pallets, I inadvertently caught the edge of an electrical box on the wall and ripped it out of its moorings. Luckily the training that I had just given myself allowed me to deftly maneuver a bunch of pallets in front of the box to hide it. I just assumed that time would pass and it would go unnoticed. How right I was, for a little bit.

Weeks later, while walking the grounds with uncle Bruce and some guy with a moustache, I don’t recall his name because everyone there but me had a moustache, we came across the box, just hanging there. Someone had exposed it, not knowing that I was hiding a terrible secret in the rotten jungle of pallets. Anyways, Bruce was all like “Who did this?” And the guy with the moustache was all like, “It was probably that idiot Stanley.” Stanley, by the way, was some guy with one eye who never showered. Now, keep in mind that in the butter melting profession, you are covered in butter and sweat for eight to twelve hours a day. So if you don’t shower, things get sour. I thought to myself, “Nice, they’ll just pin the blame on this stinky one-eyed guy.” And it turns out I was right.

Therein lies the lesson for this portion of the memoir: always have a weird looking person that you can project blame onto. And in this case, I didn’t even have to do the blaming, other people did it for me. So there’s another lesson. Just kind of hang out in the background and let other people battle it out. That’s what the Swiss do. And Switzerland also happens to be one of the wealthiest countries in the world.

Thus concludes this portion of the memoir.

By the way, I don’t think that electrical box was actually hooked up to anything, so no one got in any real trouble anyways.

Here’s the Blong (Blog Song) of the day. Junior Kimbrough – Done Got Old. Dirty, filthy, nasty blues.

Life Lessons

When times get hard, there are two options:

1. You can feel sorry for yourself, and try to bring everyone on Facebook down to your level with depressing status updates, or

2. You can have an attitude that says “Hey world, here I am, here’s my chest. Go ahead, take a nice, steamy dump on it. Doesn’t bother me a lick. I can always shower later.”

I believe that option #2 works better. I like to tell the world, “Here are my hopes and dreams, what do you think? Hey, what are you doing? My dreams are not toilet paper. Are you really gonna wipe your – awwww, you did. Ah well, I’ll have some new dreams when I go to sleep tonight!” You know, stuff like that. Keep it positive. Throwing your aspirations out there, and then being like, “This is what I would like to do with my life. I would like to – HEY! Are you using my aspirations as a pooper scooper? Yes, I realize Fido is a hungry little fella, but did you have to deflower my aspirations with his excrement? Oh, okay, you did. Are you sure? You are. Alright, I guess the beauty of your yard is more important. I’ll hose my aspirations off later.”

Let the positivity envelope you. Go ahead, send a cover letter to that company with the job opening. Tell them about all the professional goals you have – “Here is what I learned in school. I, uh, wait, are you unzipping your pants? Are you hearing what I am saying right now? Hello? Okay, you are now urinating on my goals. Kind of rude. But anyways, I think I could be a good fit – alright, you are now sticking your finger down your throat. Why would you do that? Oh, I see. You wanted to add some vomit in with the urine. Real mature. And you are now defecating onto the concontion. Well sir, someone already did that on my chest earlier, so that actually doesn’t bother me. Good day to you.”

Yes, good things will come. Why not tell the world all about your thirst for success? “Yes, I may lack experience, but I assure you that, uh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice every time I say something, you roll your eyes and make the “jack-off” motion with your hand. That is just the height of disrespect. I didn’t want to work here anyways.”

So there you have it. Keep an optimistic attitude, and you shall garner the prosperity that you crave. Sure, you’ll get urinated, crapped, and vomited on, but one day, maybe a long time from now, you will arrive at that lusted-after goal, covered in feces and various other bodily fluids, and stinking to High Heaven. You may possibly even be too ill from all the bacteria and disease that reside in those bodily fluids to enjoy landing on the summit of your hopes and dreams, but that’s just one of life’s funny jokes. Nature is one of earth’s greatest comedians. Now go out there and get it!

Blong. One of the wisest teachers I’ve had once said “Jazz is not to be listened to before 9pm.” Well once 9pm rolls around, get your jazz listening done with, and then go ahead and pop in the album Untrue by Burial. It’s wonderful nighttime music. You can also listen to it when it’s foggy out. Burial – Etched Headplate, off of Untrue.