He said, "You ought to quit your job and focus on writing. Then again, you seem to draw a lot of inspiration from frustrating work situations."
Boredom is writing fuel. Frustration. I wasn't feeling frustrated enough at work, so I went and got myself elected to the Homeowners' Board again. Some smart-ass nominated me, and seeing as how there were 3 seats and 3 candidates, I was voted in (with fewer votes than either of my competitors). I could have told them to go bugger, but I crave boredom. I chose this boredom because it is a nice, local source.
There are a cut of people who function only to yawp at the board. One shrill shrew almost induced me to loosen the honesty valve. She is the torchbearer of the torches-and-pitchforks crowd, which is effectively a teabagger party within our Condoplex, dissent as their primary mission.
They don't run for the board, ever. No new excuses for years, only the one: "I don't have time." Time to kick my balls each and every meeting, but not time enough to sit at the meeting table.
After the minor flare-up from Shrill Shrew, we waded through triviata for 55 more minutes. A pitchman for a local solar firm presented a solar panel rental solution for our rooftops, replete with long-term figures for how much we would benefit.
As he presented his crafted bullshit, my mind wandered. How could we not do the bidding of a man who looks so much like Larry Bird? Salesman didn't have a Terre Haute, Indiana accent, nor was he 6' 8". I'll bet my Cadillac (oh, wait, already pawned that), okay, my Civic, that I could beat him in a H-O-R-S-E contest.
Question from someone: "Can you give us references for work your company has done in this area?"
A: "We have installed units up and down the Front Range, and we have a list of people who will be happy to tell you their solar systems... blah blah blah....."
Jones looks out the window, listening only somewhat more than during sleep. A window in the conference room - bad idea. Distraction potential.
Women playing tennis on the courts tonight, shunting all future words from Larry Bird into the bit bucket. Jones can still hear the mellifluous voice of Can't-Carry-Jones'-Jock-At-Hoop in the background but focuses on the visual stimuli.
Jones' thought bubble: "Oh, yeah, honey, I'd like to install my unit up and down your front range. C'mon, go to the net! Go to the net!"
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My longtime classmate, nemesis and friend Sean Casey is on the verge of accepting customers to Bearizona, a tourist dairy on State Highway 40, Williams, Arizona. Caution: before visiting Arizona, cut a thin strip from a plain sheet of paper. Face your right palm downward and lay the paper strip over your right forearm. If you cannot distinguish where the paper ends and the skin begins, you are good to go!! If not, make sure and take papers!!! And backups!!!! Practica su Ingles!!!!!
Willams, Arizona is the turnoff point for the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, which is the side nearly 85% of tourists visit. Mainly this is because of demographics, with populations distributed heavily South.
Most don't go via the scary Northern Rim entrance. This entrance passes through FLDS country. LDS stands for Latter Day Saints - Mormons. The "F" stand for Whackjob. National Geographic did an article about this most culturally bizarre place in the United States, the community of Hilldale/Colorado City in Southern Utah/Northern Arizona.
Not mentioned in the Nat Geo article are all the technically single women there who draw welfare. They are plural wives, but since that isn't allowed by law, they declare as single and draw welfare, food stamps, any handout available. White welfare at its most glaring. You don't hear a lot about that on the 24-7 Republican propaganda vehicles.
Meanwhile, in Williams, Arizona, not much is going on. Rather, not much WAS going on.
The new drive-through wildlife park is big news in this 3000-person villa of nowhere on the highway.
Bearizona was scheduled to open in bare bones fashion May 22nd, several days ago. This reporter has been too lazy to find out if the first paying touri have matriculated through the park, where they have the potential of seeing bears, goats, rabbits, grasshoppers, cats, rodents, deer, dogs, and foxes; all shitting copiously. Sort of like my front yard.
The grand opening is later in June. News is scant from that remote part of the world, but I understand road construction is somewhat behind schedule. Currently, access to this wildlife park requires a Class IV climber's license. All climbers must undergo a rigourous equipment check before being allowed in to the park.
Well, maybe it's not quite that primitive. When Sean described to me a bare-bones opening, I envisioned something else.
You notice I fail to quote any of my idioms? Bare bones, no quotes. Rigourous, intentional England mis-spelling, no quotes. This is a writing rule: Don't put quotes around common references. It makes it appear that you, the writer, are VERY proud of having used a clever idiom. I'm here to tell you, idiots can use idioms. Save pixels, omit quotes.
I envisioned the bare-bones opening as being Sean sitting by Highway 40 in a lawn chair under a shade umbrella, handing out fliers at a stop sign. "Wanna see my chicken? Only 75 cents. I got me a REAL fine chicken on a tether right back chur and all you got to do is pay 75 cents. Whole family, only a one dollar fifty. Who wants to see 'eem? He's a good one, I tell ya."
www.bearizona.com
I hope no immigrants ruin this thing for Sean. You know, the wave of anti-immigration laws in Arizona. Okay, 2 laws, not a wave.
As Wanda Sykes riffed, "Why do they call them illegal immigrants? Illegal makes it sound like they're doing something bad. If somebody broke into my house - and started cleaning it? I don't think I'd call the cops."
Members of the Williams-Grand Canyon Chamber of Commerce prepare to cut a ribbon during a ceremony to mark Bearizona’s opening May 22. Pictured center are owners Sean Casey, Dennis Casey and Williams Mayor John Moore.
This photo is from the Williams News, a quasi-newspaper.
http://www.williamsnews.com/
Just for clarification, the guy in the center of the photo who appears to be attempting to chop off his own dick, that's Dennis Casey. Looks like he rode a motorcycle sans helmet to the event all the way from Rapid City, South Dakota.
The reverent-looking kid holding the purple rectangle (to the right of Dennis) is Sean Casey. Sean did everything on this project; Dennis is the figurehead, party-boy executive producer, the ilk that wear sunglasses with blue bows, like you would buy at a flea market for $3.99.
To the left of Dennis (reverse of the order listed in the photo caption) stands mustachial mayor John Moore. I hope that's the mayor. Otherwise, the mayor is the guy in the watch cap standing behind Sean. "Dude, as Mayor of Williams, I am proud to say that I think you're going to kick some serious ass, man. Party on!"
No, but really, judging by the crease in the Wranglers, the photo's tallest cowboy hat is mayor. He is wearing boots as part of his costume. Dennis is wearing boots for no discernible reason. Sean does not wear boots.
ROAD TRIP!!
Quimulus the Devout
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