I Wanna Go To Las Vegas

Actually, I don’t. This person does. There isn’t room in the whole town for both of us. Besides, I’m self-employed, and that’s all the gambling any soul could ever need.

I offer this as a window into my soul; no offense, but this is exactly how I picture every commenter and author on every page on the internet until they prove otherwise.

I don’t know what they pay policemen. It ain’t enough.

Saturday Morning Funnies

Only the finest, madam; only the finest.

Unemployed Man’s House, Morgantown, West Virginia, During The Depression

At least he didn’t have to sit on IKEA furniture and look at concrete block walls and trod on nasty vinyl tile or tatty cheap plastic-feeling wall-to-wall carpeting, while looking at milky gray sunlight through a lexan window.

I know that man’s mind, I bet. Self-employed people wake up fired and go to bed unemployed every day. Some contagion put me right where he was for a moment: willing but unable to work. It is a terrible thing. Do not go there, children.

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