How to Make an American Heroe: 4 Possible Choices in a Sea of Opportunity
Life Choice 1:
Between sitting on the couch trying to decide whether it is worth the effort to stand up and get the remote off of the table to turn on the t.v. and trying to decide what kind of Doritoes to get when I go to the store on Sunday, it hit me; I want to stay inside for the rest of my life....no.....better than that.....I want to stay inside for the rest of my life and be one of those guys that has to be taken off of the bed with a small crane...no....a large crane. Oh yeah, what could possibly be sweeter than that? Lazy....and yes, with a capital 'L'. Just think: I would have the privledge of getting to bathe with a sponge on a pole, I would no longer have to decide what I want on my delivery pizza ( Pepperoni or Sausage...hell I'll have one of each), and best of all I wouldn't ever have to see anyone but the pizza boy and that little chinese kid that brings those neat little boxes of fried rice and 'sweet and sour' pork to me. The only question is what now, what comes next. And even that is simple enough to answer: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
Life Choice 2:
I went for a brisk jog today and decided that I want to be a sports heroe. I plan to hold a cell phone to my scrotum for at least 3 hours a day in hopes that I can acquire some rare, but curable, form of testicular cancer. Post-Chemotherapy and Ball removal, I will train to win the Boston Marathon for 6...no....seven years in a row. I'll get to be on a Wheaties box, how cool is that? I can put my name on everything and get millions for it. The possibilities are endless; except procreation, but who wants kids? But first things first, I need a better cellular plan.
Life Choice 3:
I was sitting listening to smooth jazz today and I decided that I'm going to become a postal worker. Now hear me out on this. I don't want to be your typical friendly mail carrier who secretly owns an AK-47 with the intent of killing all who dare to cross me the week my mother in law comes to town. Oh no, I'm going to be the most friendly mail carrier this town...no....this state has ever seen. I am going to leave fruit cakes at Christmas and Little cards on Feb. 14; Hell I may even pet the dog and pat your baby on his head. I want to be like the mail man from the old 1950s' t.v. shows....I think that "Leave It To Beaver" had one. And then one day: THEY DON'T PAY ME ENOUGH FOR THIS CRAP....BOOM!....C-4 in the mail room, 9mm in a shoulder holster....all out psycho-killer-mailman-from-beyond-the-grave style mayhem. So, I guess it turns out that I AM going to be your typical disguntled mail carrier. That's what a government payscale will get ya.
Life Choice 4:
I was driving down the freeway today, stopped in stand-still traffic when I saw this old man with a shopping cart, 40oz. Olde English in one hand, leash connected to an old mangie Labrador in the other. Suddenly it hit me. A hobo's life is the only life for me. Imagine for a moment, the romanticism of it all: riding the trains from Cheyenne to Omaha, getting kicked in the groin regularly from characters ranging from Central Park cops to Frat boys. Oh yeah, thats what I'm talking about. True freedom. With only a news paper for a bed, a rock for a pillow, and cheap whiskey and an old tire in a barrel for warmth on a cold winters night. I'll call my dog Lucky. Hopefully I can find one with one eye and no tail, I hear you get better handouts that way. I'll eat stale bread and half consumed Happy Meals from the dumpster out back of Mc D's. Yes folks, a hobo's life is the only life for me.
Between sitting on the couch trying to decide whether it is worth the effort to stand up and get the remote off of the table to turn on the t.v. and trying to decide what kind of Doritoes to get when I go to the store on Sunday, it hit me; I want to stay inside for the rest of my life....no.....better than that.....I want to stay inside for the rest of my life and be one of those guys that has to be taken off of the bed with a small crane...no....a large crane. Oh yeah, what could possibly be sweeter than that? Lazy....and yes, with a capital 'L'. Just think: I would have the privledge of getting to bathe with a sponge on a pole, I would no longer have to decide what I want on my delivery pizza ( Pepperoni or Sausage...hell I'll have one of each), and best of all I wouldn't ever have to see anyone but the pizza boy and that little chinese kid that brings those neat little boxes of fried rice and 'sweet and sour' pork to me. The only question is what now, what comes next. And even that is simple enough to answer: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
Life Choice 2:
I went for a brisk jog today and decided that I want to be a sports heroe. I plan to hold a cell phone to my scrotum for at least 3 hours a day in hopes that I can acquire some rare, but curable, form of testicular cancer. Post-Chemotherapy and Ball removal, I will train to win the Boston Marathon for 6...no....seven years in a row. I'll get to be on a Wheaties box, how cool is that? I can put my name on everything and get millions for it. The possibilities are endless; except procreation, but who wants kids? But first things first, I need a better cellular plan.
Life Choice 3:
I was sitting listening to smooth jazz today and I decided that I'm going to become a postal worker. Now hear me out on this. I don't want to be your typical friendly mail carrier who secretly owns an AK-47 with the intent of killing all who dare to cross me the week my mother in law comes to town. Oh no, I'm going to be the most friendly mail carrier this town...no....this state has ever seen. I am going to leave fruit cakes at Christmas and Little cards on Feb. 14; Hell I may even pet the dog and pat your baby on his head. I want to be like the mail man from the old 1950s' t.v. shows....I think that "Leave It To Beaver" had one. And then one day: THEY DON'T PAY ME ENOUGH FOR THIS CRAP....BOOM!....C-4 in the mail room, 9mm in a shoulder holster....all out psycho-killer-mailman-from-beyond-the-grave style mayhem. So, I guess it turns out that I AM going to be your typical disguntled mail carrier. That's what a government payscale will get ya.
Life Choice 4:
I was driving down the freeway today, stopped in stand-still traffic when I saw this old man with a shopping cart, 40oz. Olde English in one hand, leash connected to an old mangie Labrador in the other. Suddenly it hit me. A hobo's life is the only life for me. Imagine for a moment, the romanticism of it all: riding the trains from Cheyenne to Omaha, getting kicked in the groin regularly from characters ranging from Central Park cops to Frat boys. Oh yeah, thats what I'm talking about. True freedom. With only a news paper for a bed, a rock for a pillow, and cheap whiskey and an old tire in a barrel for warmth on a cold winters night. I'll call my dog Lucky. Hopefully I can find one with one eye and no tail, I hear you get better handouts that way. I'll eat stale bread and half consumed Happy Meals from the dumpster out back of Mc D's. Yes folks, a hobo's life is the only life for me.
posted by Joshua Skrobarczyk at 5:09 PM
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