Author: marc (Page 17 of 60)

Unions are evil organizations that convince miserable peasants that they can challenge their social betters. Only the noble deserving classes of society are willing to make the sacrifice of explaining to these social offal their well deserved place. (Not verbatim of a conversation of the last week, but accurately reflective of the tone)

Only today, in my dotage, did I discover that Grandma Moses was white.

Odd.

Can I interest you in a nightcap?
No thanks. I don’t wear them.

The best way to sleep for me is after a late night cup of Joe.

The greatest invention of the 20th century was decaffeinated coffee.

I often spend time spilling my brain droppings (as George Carlin called them) on dead trees using dead tree-bound carbon rods. I was traveling for business not too long ago and, when traveling alone, I often write whilst having dinner. I write as was taught back in the day (probably in a one-room schoolhouse, while carrying my lunch in an actual pail. Unless that was “Little House on the Prairie.”). That is, I write longhand in cursive. The pretty young waitress complimented me on my handwriting perhaps a tad too exuberantly. An interesting trend I’ve noticed: the prettier the waitress, the more likely she is to compliment you for something. I had terrible writing in grade school. Though right-handed, I wrote almost exclusively with my left hand the first couple of years of college. I began to focus on the aesthetics of my writing only a few years ago. Since then, I have been meticulous about maintaining consistent sizes and angles throughout any piece.

Nevertheless, I know it’s not Thomas Jefferson. I’m sorry, honey, but your tip doesn’t change with flattery.

Note: despite the entire “tip” model of service work being a means of screwing both the servant-class and the consumer-class, it is an absolute requirement by current standards.

Thanks to “Dear Abby,” if I recall correctly.

I hate when I get materials ready for a project, only to spend the available time doing silly things like planning. Measure once, cut twice (at least that’s how it seems to work lately). I once built a level yard from a sloped one, complete with a three foot high, 80 foot wide brick wall. Thirteen tons of fill gravel, probably three times that much topsoil, and 560 bricks at 27 lbs each. I moved it all by hand and wheelbarrow. The first couple of weeks, it looked as if I had done nothing whatsoever. Then it seemed to explode.

I hated all the methodical planning. But I hated laying the first layer of bricks most of all.