Creation - Revisited

Sycophants:
     Undoubtedly by this time, word has spread even to the farthest reaches of the kingdom - the Emperor has no job. These past 38 days of career stagnation have had a profound effect on even my hair's breadth from delerium rock-solid psyche.
     Fortunately, I am medicated of sturdy stock and find great comfort in the panoply of menial tasks that have now become my companions. For example, rather than gather the household trash on the eve of the mid-week visit from our local refuse hauler, I now empty each room's cans every day - thereby providing me with a much-needed sense of accomplishment and boundless pride. What remained missing however, was that inspirational spark, that super-noval burst of pure genious for which I'm  known (rightfully so - cue the applause).
     As I tended to yet another mindless chore, idling at the corner of Nothing To Do Avenue and All The Time In The World To Do It Street, I felt a small, still voice from within - at first, it seemed but a whisper, but then grew stronger and more intelligible - saying "create, create, create"; in that moment, my vision was cast. I would henceforth use my estimable powers only for good, and would begin by reordering the only universe in which I am god <Editor's note: small g> - my pond. 
     Taking my cue from the Good Book, it seemed sensible to perform this transformational miracle using the template provided therein. I mean, why reinvent the wheel? The following is an account of the past 7 days:
Day 1 - The western end of my pond was formless and empty - darkness was over the surface. I separated the weeds and the rocks, preparing the place; I saw that it was good.
Day 2 -  I dug a pit in which to place the cistern which would hold back the waters. The pit was in darkness; I created a channel to drain the water and allow in the light.

Day 3 - The land around the pit was ready to receive its inhabitants - the bricks and stones from which the waters would spring forth. I began to place them there, each in its own location. This lasted from morning to evening.
Day 4 - The darkness of the ground was joined by the lightness of the sand, upon which more bricks of different sizes, each according to its kind, were placed. The formless void became somewhat recognizable.
Day 5 - The cistern was placed, and the pump that would generate the life-giving nature to this garden was acquired and installed. The vulcanized liner was inserted, in the image of the trench in which it lay, channeling the flowing waters to and from the pond.

Day 6 - The placement of the stones was completed, and power was supplied to the pump. The waters began to swirl and cycle throughout this biological wonder. I saw all that I had made, and it was very good.

Day 7 - I rested.

     Remember cowgirls, to whom much is given, much is expected; my creation in a small slice of the northeast corner of the Brisco compound portends greater things. I'm obviously destined to slip the icy bonds of tedium - and when I do, my demons will be the first to know. 
Mercede sua magnitudo est....... 
    
      

Musings From The Unemployment Line

Worker Bees:
     Well, it's been nearly a month since my career did a spot-on impersonation of the Challenger disaster. Since then, I've spent most of my time considering the implausable circumstance in which I find myself. Though contemplative thought is an obvious byproduct of a superior intellect, it remains nonetheless a fairly unmarketable skill.
     Of coeval vicissitude, is the stark reality that the market for older folks, nearing the end of their useful life well-seasoned mensas, with an inordinate gift for hyperbolic rhetoric, is a narrow one indeed. As such, my efforts to re-employ myself have, to this point, engendered results that might charitably be labled dismal. I also bear the burdon of maintaining a certain joie de vivre, that my demons have come to expect. It ain't easy bein' me - this is harder than it looks.

     Thankfully, the gods have gifted me with an abundance of pomposity ingenuity and self-reliance. This is evidenced by my decision to pursue a different course. It seems that traditional career paths do not present the opportunities necessary to support my self-indulgent lifestyle; therefore, I shall pursue non-traditional avenues to acquire gainful employment. Having divined such, I feel compelled to share my epiphany with you, my ardent supporters and lucky subscribers.
     With the past four weeks to guide me, the following represents those career paths which I believe hold for me, the most promise - and my reasoning for each:

* Proofreader - Since most days begin with a laser-like scan of the daily paper, it's an uncommon occurance if at least a half-dozen errors/typos aren't discovered. I cannot imagine that the good folks who publish our local pulp aren't getting down on their hands and knees - praying for someone to rescue them from their fecklesness.





* Stalker - It's apparent that I am completely unnoticable; what other explanation could account for the consistent indifference with which my multiple resume/application submissions are met? I could simply follow folks around (with no malice intended, I assure you) and remain unrecognized - regardless of the length of the assignment.

* Plastic Bag In The Tree Collector - This is a perfect springtime assignment. My daily wanderings reveal a plethora of these pesky polymers; so, rather than join the raucous rabble in their useless complaints about this mischief of Mother Nature, I'd actually do something about it. Imagine a world without plastic grocery bags hung up in the branches of trees - you're welcome!

    
Consider this the most unorthodox resume you've ever seen. My salary requirements are quite negotiable; however, a generous benefits package remains a birthright. Serious inquiries only......