Captain Depresso Stops By, Font Changes, Texas is cool now, and it's spring

Dear Readers,

Now the title is a different color. And I changed the font. The dough will start rolling in any second now. Ha ha ha.

I already hate the advertisements and I want to take them down. I've sold out! I'm slimy.

I'm sort of thinking that I shoud become a truck driver or a nurse, because when I look for jobs on careerbuilder.com or other job search engine thingamajigs, there are always openings for truck drivers and nurses.

But I'm afraid that if I was a truck driver I would crash into things or run over curbs all the time, or run over cars or people. I can't drive a stick-shift. About two months ago I drove a U-Haul truck and it was kind of fun. But if I drove a truck I might fall asleep at the wheel and accidently kill people.

And if I was a nurse I would barf every day because I couldn't stick needles into people. BARF BARF PUKE!

I'm wasting time. How are you doing?

I don't think I want to blog for a living, anyway.

Blogs are so shallow, and I am so deep.

Know any easy ways I can make money fast?

(Preferably legal ways.)

I can identify with Biff from Death of a Salesman in Act One, page 22 of the book I'm looking at:


BIFF: I tell ya, Hap, I don't know what the future is. I don't know- what I'm supposed to want.

HAPPY: What do you mean?

BIFF: Well, I spent six or seven years after high school trying to work myself up. Shipping clerk, salesman, business of one kind or another. And it's a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer. To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for the sake of a two-week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And always to have to get ahead of the next fella. And still - that's how you build a future.

HAPPY: Well, you really enjoy it on a farm? Are you content out there?

BIFF, with rising agitation: Hap, I've had twenty or thirty different kinds of jobs since I left home before the war, and it always turns out the same. I just realized it lately. In Nebraska when I herded cattle, and the Dakotas, and Arizona, and now in Texas. It's why I came home now, I guess, because I realized it. This farm I work on, it's spring there now, see? And they've got about fifteen new colts. There's nothing more inspiring or - beautiful than the sight of a mare and a new colt. And it's cool there now, see? Texas is cool now, and it's spring. And whenever spring comes to where I am, I suddenly get the feeling, my God, I'm not getting anywhere! What the hell am I doing, playing around with horses, twenty-eight dollars a week! I'm thirty-four years old, I oughta be makin' my future. And now, I get here, and I don't know what to do with myself.

I don't mean to be Captain Depresso. I hope you have a good day.

Sincerely,
Telemoonfa