Bring out your dead!

I’ve been instructed to tell you that I am still alive – at least nominally. On the other hand, I could just be a clone and my original body has been origamied into the freezer we keep in the archive for some reason. There’s a hefty lock on it and nobody seems to know where the key is, so short of bringing in my bolt-cutters, I can only speculate.

I do know that my company will be in weapons-grade doo-doo if I expire before completing my current project, so while they are invested in keeping me functional, the task deadlines are stupidly unreasonable and that places some rather onerous demands on my time.

Home life continues to emulate a kinetic sculpture fashioned out of a spinning fan and ballistic turd launcher and I’m not strong enough to get into that just yet. What do we say to the God of Disaster? Not today!

The Grim Reaper

According to makers of motivational posters, the secret to a fulfilling career is to do something you love. This is great advice if you enjoy starving to death in a ditch, but not all that useful for the rest of us.

On the other hand, you’ll probably stand a (marginally) better chance of finding that dream job, if you actually know what you like. Take this dude, for example:

He has a simple, straightforward (albeit ambitious) goal. Fortunately, that annoying law against killing people is more of a guideline here in South Africa, so no worries there.

Consequently, if he applies himself, he could probably manage it in about five years. Assuming, of course, that he is able to secure some kind of sponsorship for his genocidal rampage AND if nobody fights back, runs away or hides.

However, his biggest obstacle will be staving off boredom. Repetitive tasks really do become deathly dull after a while.

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways

I am not overly fond of air travel. I can almost ignore the extortionate rates they charge for parking, the endless hours lost to waiting and the astoundingly stupid security personnel, but it’s the lying that I find the most disappointing.

“Is the flight on time?”
“Yes sir!”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely, sir!”

It’s all horseshit, of course. As are their claims of regret when they happily announce that my flight has been delayed until the end of time as soon as I’ve checked in. Oh, and let’s also not forget the utter, utter nonsense about how I need to switch off my iPod during take-off and landing for “safety reasons”.

Seriously guys, you have a problem – especially you, SAA. Get help. If you had any friends, they would have staged an intervention by now.

The wheel of life

After a long and bitter fight against entropy, my scooter finally died.

I’d consulted some of the top specialists in the business, but they said that even drastic intervention would only be postponing the inevitable. They recommended that I simply allow Nature to take its course. It wasn’t an easy decision.

I loved that little clunker. It kept me mobile after my ex got custody of the car in the divorce. It carried on without so much as a murmur of complaint after several painful accidents. It kept me company after several painful break-ups. It will be sorely missed.

Vade in pace, old friend

What dreams may come?