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.
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.
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.
Please support Bison by buying through the Amazon ad graphics at the top of the page. You can purchase anything, not just the linked item. Enter Amazon through my item link and then go to whatever other item you desire. As long as you don’t leave Amazon until after the order is placed, I get credit for your purchase. For those that can’t get the ads because they are blocked by your software, just PayPal me occasionally or buy me something from my Amazon Wish List once a year.
All My Contact Info, Books For Sale, Links: