Red Mosquito

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

bodysnatcher wrote:

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

Nothing about my career is lucrative or even remotely close

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

bodysnatcher wrote:

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

Nothing about my career is lucrative or even remotely close

pepperwhiteMFC wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

Nothing about my career is lucrative or even remotely close

Anything lucrative out of a career gets spent by the kids anyway.

oasisfan35 wrote:

pepperwhiteMFC wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

Bammer wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Probably be working til 6 again of course. Glad I don’t have any thanksgiving responsibilities or children, this job would never allow me to be a good friend or father.

I think I could pursue a more lucrative career but I’m really good with my current flexibility, it’s important to me and I value it too much.

Nothing about my career is lucrative or even remotely close

Anything lucrative out of a career gets spent by the kids anyway.

Ah children, the optional accessory.

Jorge wrote:I crossed paths with Conan O'Brien today. I didn't talk to him, just nodded my head at him and gawked a little. Did not expect him to be about my height

The Argonaut wrote:What the hell is Conan O'Brien doing in Lincoln, Nebraska!?

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:Going to play football in a bit may die please pray