Memphis Zoological Park and Panda Wrestling Arena May 20, 2005

Pandas enjoy to eat the bamboo, yes...

xxx 

Yoda speaks...

Ready I am for "Revenge of the Sith". Better than the last two it is supposed to be. Disappointed will I be if tied up convincingly loose ends are not. Frustrated will I be if adequately depicted Anakin's descent into evil is not. Tired am I of like Yoda attempting to speak. Wondering am I if never has seen Yoda "Strunk and White's Elements of Style". Curious it is that an expert of proper English writing E.B. "Chalotte's Web" White is. Drunk I am from too much Dickel George.

Toys for "problem" kids...

Texas tea...of the Sith!!!

Giant Dead Snapping Turtle...

I saw you this morning at the end of Old Finger Road.
Me- Wearing red plaid short-sleeve shirt, driving blue Ford Ranger pickup truck.
You- Dead, in the middle of the road.
You were alarmingly big, certainly the largest reptile I'd ever seen on Old Finger Road, living or dead. I would have expected to find you in a lake or river, but not on Old Finger Road, where the only nearby body of water is a muddy stream only a few levels up from a drainage ditch. And that water is over a quarter mile from where I saw you. How a turtle your size might have ended up in that stream, I can not guess. Nor can I figure why you would have crawled out the stream and dragged your unusually large reptile body a quarter mile AWAY from your preferred habitat. Bitter irony that after all your effort, you would end up squooshed under some redneck's truck tires.

Like the Anheuser-Busch of lower quality, disreputable beers

As we all know, the world can be a complex and confusing place. On occasion, the mechanisms and processes of our planet can be so complex as to seem completely lacking in any kind of real order whatsoever. Of course, we know that this perception is but an illusion. The world does have an order. Things, it turns out, do make sense.

An example: All these many years, I have been under the misapprehension that the truly bad American beers, the Olympias and Black Labels and PBRs lurking in the corners of beer coolers across this great land, were brewed by individual, unaffiliated terrible beer companies. This morning I discovered, much to my excitement and relief, that every single truly bad beermaker in the US is a division of Pabst. For me, this discovery is akin to finding conclusive proof that the Freemasons, working with the Knights Templar, really ARE behind every significant world event of the past 1000 years. No longer must I labor under the misconception that cheap, terrible beer just happens. No, now I know that Pabst is to blame. Pabst is behind it all. I wonder if the Fanta soft drink company is somehow affiliated with Pabst. Now, that would just friggin blow my mind.

Grrrauuughhhhaaaaahlghrghuuuuh...

So, here I wait.

Waiting for a call. Waiting for an email. Waiting for a letter or fax or telegram or bat-signal or laser light show depiction. Tell me yes or no. Last Tuesday you asked me for a little more personal information, said you needed to run a background check. Does it take a week to run a background check? I guess I just sorta thought that the background check was the final dotted "i" and crossed "t" and that soon you would be making your offer. So, where are ya dude? I'm sitting here, can't stand it, check my home email about 420 times a day, check the home answering machine about 210 times a day. I've lived in the United States all my life. Never been in trouble with the law. Never been employed by any super-secret pseudo-governmental black-ops assassination agency which resulted in the destruction of all my personal records. It can't take that long. I'm sure you're done with it. Call me, email me, let me know. I don't want to think about it anymore.