sundog

Memes are contagious ideas, all competing for a share of our mind in a kind of Darwinian selection.

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June 14, 2005 7:08 AM
It's Tuesday morning chickies and chicklets. I'm preparing for a "big date" tonight, the first meeting from some injudicious emailing on match.com. Many of you will remember my tremendous success in Washington with JJ, so you can imagine that I'm really looking forward to new experiences. Seriously, what choice is there for someone (like me - do you mean me, yes me) who lives far off the middle class grid and belief system. Besides to paraphrase Groucho Marx, why would I want to meet someone who would want to meet me? But horny is as horny does so here's a quick peak at the two ladies I'll be meeting in the next two days.

This is assuming either or both show up. On the left is Helen and on the right is Julie. I'm thinking of bringing my brother's Nikon Coolpix with me - it is so smal and cute, but it might be a little UNCOOL, (but when have I ever been cool?) to actually bring a camera with me. I'll probably do it anyway.

More important and more comfortable emotionally, I'm getting my rear end replaced. Many of you know of my dissatisfaction with my rear end, and my hope for a government program that would allow butt enhancements through the "yuppie down on luck" program that previously supplied only free brie and carnuba wax for volvos to the less fortunate among us. By the way all that applies to Ft Collins and to Boulder. Boulder is Eugene squared while Ft Collins is sort of Corvallis (complete with an HP facility). But it's not my rear end I'm talking about here, it is the rear end of the truck - called the differential. Here's a picture of a differential. Some of you at work who have previously passed out on the street have seen these on the bottom of cars and trucks.

This differential (technical name is the rear thingie) converts the rotary motion of the drive shaft into rotary motion that would drive the vehicle forward. Like the rear sprocket on a bicycle the bigger the gear in that big round thing, the slower the vehicle goes but with more pulling power. I'm changing the gearing by about 15 percent. This should threaten the mutated squirel in Wyoming that passed me, and shamed me. I mean where I'm I to put my oversized ego? The two girls above will prohibit me from talking about sex for weeks I bet, and now, now, a mutated Wyoming squirrel has forced me into spending a THOUSAND dollars to recover some of my lost pride. Pride is expensive, a sense of humor would be cheaper, but I don't have one.

I've got to get up and practice my flycasting - another ego thing - we're going fishing with a guide and I'll look stupid if I use the wrong end of the rod, so I'll go whip some lawn grass to death this morning and then bicycle down to coffee.

Perfect weather here, loving not working. I know, I know - I didn't work much before. True, but I was CAGED, which is death to the FREE CHICKEN. Free Chickens RULE, suck egg you worker units! HAH HAH HAH. On a more emphatic note. I miss the good work and the ability to use my skills to further the mission (HAH HAH HAH you egg suckers!).

Tomorrow or the next day, as I have a date after fishing (I hope, I fear, I'm worried, yes, worried) I'll have pictures of the fishing trip. Get to work (HAH HAH HAH).

Good morning Vietnam!

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