OUTLAWS UPDATE
I always listen to my minions. And when one of you requests an article, I
try to write it up ( as long as it falls within my bailiwick ). Of course, I have to postpone said request so
as to not appear cheap and easy ( oh, wait… ).
So here it is, finally- the update to my particularly putrid pride of
parasites, the inlaws suckling off both my hard work and my very soul. How are
city slickers adjusting to life out off the grid? Well, short answer is that they are settling
in just fine with nary a ruffled feather.
But for all you thinking this will translate over to your family moving
to the homestead, not so fast. The devil
is in the details ( he also takes the hindmost, but that’s another tale ), so
wait for the long story.
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First, pertaining to the tale, what actually motivated
me to write this up other than a desire to curry reader favor. The other day, the thrift store driver came
tearing through the food bank, in an uproar.
“If anyone donates a brain, I need a few over next door” or words to
that effect. I thought nothing of it,
just more stress over the supreme dumbassness of the volunteers ( we don’t just
get little old ladies filling in their day and trying to bribe Baby Jesus for
admittance, we have a lot of ne’er-do-wells
hanging about pretending to be busy so we grant them services ). He elaborated the next day, a pretty funny
story. Some of the guys had some meat
and wanted to have a BBQ ( ingrates didn’t invite me ). I don’t know why. Celebrating unemployment? Anyway, after getting permission they got a
grill and cooked up a feast. The only
problem was, they had two gas grills and no gas tanks. So they just poured charcoal into one of the
gas grills and improvised. The next
problem was, they didn’t use the banged up old plain Jane grill that was destined
for the steel recycler. No, that would
have been too smart. They took a brand
new looking donated stainless steel all the bells and whistles grill that the
thrift store could have sold for a pretty penny and screwed it up to use
charcoal for one meal. The money from
the thrift store goes to pay expenses to provide food, showers and laundry to
these guys.
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This kind of thinking is totally alien to me. I simply am confounded by it. How can people have zero future orientation
and still survive? Or, am I the bizarre
one, stuck firmly in the future most of my life? Perhaps NO future awareness is still a
survival skill. Like, if you only live
for the moment you can get through a crisis easier, not stopping to over-analyze
long term consequences? I frankly have
zero clue. It took me decades to kinda
sorta figure out females ( according to one anthropologist, there are
similarities with like genders across all cultures, but the differences between
genders in the same culture are enormous- which makes me feel better because
dealing with an alien species means I’m not as dumb as I thought ) and I don’t
know if I have that kind of time left to figure out how people can act like such
morons and get away with it. And the
outlaws? That is them, fit to a T. They have NOOOOO concept of five minutes into
the future. Next article continues the fun
and games with the clueless outlaws.
END
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