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.......
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......
Taxpayers:
As some of you know, but most do not, I've been involuntarily freed from the bonds of the workaday world; oddly, my career path became self-immolating. I was promoted from Whipping Boy, to Scapegoat, then finally to Sacrificial Lamb.
Fear not though dear readers, I shan't degrade this high-minded literary space with acridity; my superior intellect dispenses with such course, urbane indulgence. Rather, I shall remain unfailingly positive, seeking only the higher purposes for which I am destined.
To that end, it seems appropriate to utilize this neck-jolting foray into the abyss unsettling turn of events as inspiration for yet another edition of Speed's Top 10 - the subject of our examination today is "Top 10 Benefits of Unemployment" - here we go.
10. No more pesky calculating of remaining Vacation Leave.
9. Lunches at home - the economic benefit of monotony.
8. Fantasy office politics - you never lose!
7. Sweatpants are sooo much more comfortable than dress slacks.
6. Reviving that long-dormant relationship with your mail carrier.
5. Always available for daylight liaisons - hey, it could happen!
4. The liberation of no more meetings.
3. Gaining an appreciation for just how vacuous smart those women on The View really are.
2. No stressing over impending performance review.
1. Rediscovering the joy of poring over the Classified section.
It is my fond hope that my Speed Demons will recognize the example I've set; it's all about the lemonade, kids. Stay warm.....
Pikins:
Unplug the defibrillators, cork your anxiety; I have returned from my second home - a mere 8 degrees north of the equator - where both the weather and the reception were warm. This trip to Sierra Leone had, as its centerpiece, the dedication of the church built last year, in the village of Maboleh. However, the rest of the trip was not without excitement; permit me to regale you. ***Editor's warning: Although most of the snark has been excised from the following tome, this is a long one!***
We flew from Washington, DC to London, England on Tuesday, 2/26. Due to quirks in our flight schedules, we took advantage of a 16 hour layover and set off to explore The Big Smoke. Whooshing through the Tube at an impressive rate of speed, we soon found ourselves smack dab in front of Big Ben (it really is big). We saw that Ferris wheel thing (The Big Eye) that, frankly, would seem more at home at the Texas State Fair; I'm still not sure why it's there.
After a bit of a walk, we explored Westminster Abbey and were blown away by the history, architecture and impressive listing of its long-decomposed tenants. After a lunch of fish & chips, we made our way to Buckingham Palace, intent on visiting the Royals. Sadly, their calendar was full and we had to be content with meandering about the outer walls, with the rest of the rabble. After more brisk sight-seeing, we tubed our way back to Heathrow, to await our late-night flight to Sierra Leone.
I expected that our early-morning arrival at Lungi airport, situated near the Atlantic Ocean, just across the bay from the country's capital, Freetown, would be a raucous affair, replete with an endless stream of wanna-be baggage handlers; I was not disappointed. However this time, unlike previous visits, we did not take the ferry into Freetown to stay. Instead, we had arranged for a local boat owner to take our small party (6 of us, plus our driver - Edison) to Bunce Island, located upriver in Freetown Bay. Bunce Island has enormous historical and sociological import; it was used for years as one of the main points of embarkation for slave ships headed to the Colonies. School yourselves: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunce_Island
Once there, we spent an hour or so checking out the ruins of the buildings that once housed hundreds at a time, 17th century cannons simply lying on the ground - still in a defensive posture, pointed out to sea - and visiting the abandoned cemeteries for both the whites and blacks that died on the island. This was at once an awesome and sobering experience; I feel privileged to have seen this.
It was on our return trip to the dock, that trouble ensued. Approximately a mile from completing our voyage, the boat ran out of gas. I'll spare you my usual rantings; suffice it to say, we were actually "dead in the water". Our intrepid Skipper seemed flummoxed, but eventually summoned enough reason to call for help on his cell phone. He calmly assured us that help was on the way - should be no more than 15 minutes or so. This proved to be the first of many overly-optimistic assessments made during our time in country. All the while, his 1st (and only) mate Gilligan, sprang into action and attempted to paddle us home, with what appeared to be a car's license plate holder. While he earned kudos for the effort, his actions had no positive effect, apart from entertainment.
At this juncture, a mutinous spirit swept the craft, and we passengers took matters into our own hands by waving down a passing fishing boat. After some initial wrangling over the price they'd charge to tow us in (started at 400,000 Leones <a little less than $100>, ended at 50,000 Leones <a little over $10>), we lashed ourselves to their boat and hung on! The ride back was a spray-filled event, that also gave the locals an opportunity to show off their morning's catch. After finally rendezvousing with the rescue party summoned an hour or so earlier, we limped back in to shore. We immediately set off by car for Makeni, and our home for the next 5 nights, the Women Of Hope guest house. Arriving in late afternoon, we ate and settled in for a nice warm night's sleep.
Our time in Makeni, a large city about 7 miles from our village of Maboleh, was spent mostly in activities related to the village's primary school, and the dedication of the church we built last year. Our first & second day in the village was spent serving as dignitaries for the primary school's All Sports Day. This is a sort of all-school Olympics (obviously scaled back from the wretched excess the real Olympics have become).Typical sporting events such as distance races, relays & sack races dotted the program; of additional interest were the "non-traditional" events, such as spoon/egg racing, blowing up the balloon racing, knowing your numbers racing, and a mind-blowing version of that well-known standard Musical Chairs. The event that topped off the proceedings was the Dance-Contest. The best, and most charitable way to describe this is to think Showgirls meets Sesame Street - OMG!!!
The two day event was a competition between 4 teams, or Houses. The Red House, the Green House, the Blue House & the Yellow House were pitted against one another, with each of the 4 male missionaries assigned to a particular house. Your author was assigned to the Green House - "Mighty Conteh House", and when all the results were tallied (and, to the surprise of no one) the Green House prevailed! Pictured is the celebratory winner's trophy and house-master hoist.
Sunday dawned, and the centerpiece of our trip was at hand - the dedication of the church we built in the village last year. Long-time readers will remember the history of this project - we razed a decaying mud-block church built in 1979 and replaced it with a cement-block structure designed to serve that village and the surrounding community for years to come. Dignitaries from both the United Methodist Church and tribal hierarchy were festooned in their finest regalia. The nearly 4 hour service was comprised of much singing, dancing, speech making and collection taking (5 collections in all); but honestly, the time flew, as both the celebratory mood and sweat flowed like a river.
After the ceremony, we joined with all in attendance for a feast prepared by the women of the church. We had funded this event, and portions of rice, chicken, fish and heaven knows what other hoofed, beaked or finned delicacies were prepared for the nearly 500 celebrants.
The next day, the team split up to accomplish a variety of tasks, all related to the secondary school in Makeni, where the students we sponsor from the village, attend classes. One team member spent the day at the school, and actually assisted with teaching a class; others toured the facility, then went into town to purchase supplies (chalk, slates, notebooks, etc.) for the students there. My life-partner Bearcat & I took the opportunity to scale Wusum - a mountain situated near the secondary school. Wusum is one of two mountains overlooking the city of Makeni, the other is Menne; Wusum & Menne means Father & Mother, in the local language of Temne. We had climbed Menne in 2011, so only the challenge of Wusum remained.
I shan't provide a step-by-step account of our ascent; suffice it to say, it was really freakin' hard. The school principal provided us with a guide, telling us that he would take us up the mountain "the easy way" <second overly optimistic assessment alert>. Apparently the English word easy, means difficult in Temne. About an hour and a half after beginning our ascent, I summited. Samuel, the teacher that had been selected to guide us up the mountain, said we were the oldest Oportos (whites) to have scaled the mountain. It was no salve to my ego to notice that nearly a dozen schoolboys, many barefooted, joined our trek, clambering about like goats, while I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. All hardship was forgotten when we reached the peak, and after a brief rest atop Wusum, we descended our lofty perch.
The next day and a half are a blur, owing to my exhaustion from the climb. We returned to the village, where Pastor Dave conducted a men's bible study, we presented a suitcase full of medical supplies to the nurse at the government clinic in the village, and following another warm night's sleep, presented gifts and stipends to the teachers at the primary school in the village.
We next travelled to Bo, the second largest city in Sierra Leone, where we stayed one night at the Missionary Training Center. The next day, we drove to Kenema, where the UMC Annual Conference was set to begin. Pastor Dave addressed the gathering of pastors and Evangelists, and after receiving a blessing for safe travel, we loaded up for the 5 hour drive back to Lungi - to stay the night and prepare for our flight out the next morning.
On Thursday, our driver Edison dropped us at the airport, where I endured a grilling and shake down that has sadly become old-hat there. Surviving that ordeal, I settled into our silver tube for the 6 hour flight to London. Again owing to an odd flight schedule, we were forced to spend the night at a nearby hotel, where we enjoyed our first air conditioning, a shower that was more than a cold trickle, and a bed that didn't have to be checked for critters before crawling in. On Friday morning, we returned to Heathrow and boarded another cylinder for the 7 hour flight to Dulles, where we were met by friendly angels and whisked homeward. The 38 hours of travel is a killer, but at that point, I was just glad to be back.
Obviously, this is a condensed version of events; I understand this is a shock to my regular readers, but circumstances have conspired to rob me of both my memory and inspiration. More on that next time............
Miscreants:
Well, it won't be long now; in just a few short days your favorite gasbag will be, once again, wending his way back to the Dark Continent - back to Sierra Leone. This iteration will find me part of a team with 5 other travelers, as we return to Maboleh, a village near the country's center, to attend the dedication of the church built there last year.
Ardent followers of my adventures will remember last fall's trip, upon which I reported with banal monotony clarity, alacriity and clever linguistics. During that visit, we attended the inaugural Sunday service in the new building; this trip will include the official dedication of their new church - built on the same spot as the former one - and attendance at the Sierra Leone UMC's Annual Conference. 
Also scheduled are visits to the local primary and secondary schools, participation in the village's All-Sports Day, and meetings with UMC conference officials. Naturally, my MacArthur-like return will be met with raucous, celebratory revelry; last year, they closed the city to motorized traffic - I'm certain it was in my honor. Nonetheless, the outpouring of joy and affection will be quite the spectacle.
I'll do my best to remain communicado; internet service remains unreliable, but I shall - in the timeless words of Chief Dan George, as Lone Watie in the western classic Outlaw Josie Wales - "endeavor to persevere".
I'll let y'all know how it goes. YAMD....
Penitents:
Unaccustomed as I am to sideline sitting, I've nonetheless been observing, with amusement, our culture's odd facination with punditry. Take, for example, the recently completed Super Bowl; I don't know how much money is wasted on paid to the assorted lingo-mastication artists, collected and presented like an array of freakish sideshow attractions, but the cost/benefit ratio of this moron-a-thon is off the charts. In fact, <Editor's note: In the interest of time and as a gesture of reader appreciation, we'll not publish Speed's opening rant in it's entirety; should you require further dulling of the senses, the complete text may be obtained by request.>
Because of this, I've decided to empanel my own think tank - asking fellow Mensa members to join me for this, the first Mailbag Edition of 2013. I've extended invitations to a half dozen or so similarly gifted stablemates; alas, my pathetic bleatings garnered no response unfortunately, my intellectual peer group is currently engaged in sundry alchemical pursuits and as such, is unavailable. Soldiering on alone, I've selected an array of hot topicals submitted by you, dear readers; here we go.
Q: What is your position on gun control? - Wayne L.
A: I receive this question a lot. At its very core, it is a complex issue involving constitutional interpretation, socialogical components, 6th Commandment paradigms (and a plethora of other theological tenets), economic concerns, and the emotional push & pull of the annualized impact on our workforce - seasonally adjusted. I completely agree. -sound of crickets chirping-
Q: Did you bet on the Super Bowl, and if so, on whom? Roger G.
A: Once again, I reside at the intersection of prescience and good fortune. I bet the over on the time of the game (+/- 4 hours).
Q: Was Ben Affleck shafted by this year's Oscar committee? - Seth M.
A: Oh my ......... go ask your mother.
Q: This flu season has been particularly severe; have you been sick ? - Everett C.
A: No; my body is as fit as my mind.
Q: Should the long-standing ban on using women in combat be lifted? - David P.
A: This country was founded on the principal of equal access to all the benefits our great land provides. I suppose this includes access to our V.A. Hospitals and National Cemeteries.
Q: How will Lance Armstrong and Manti Teo' ever begin to repair their reputations? - Katie C.
A: If liar's poker ever becomes an Olympic sport.
Q: We know almost nothing of your personal life; are you married? - Various
A: I've recently become engaged to the woman of my dreams (pictured); I she completes me.....
That's all for now slugabeds. The balance of this month will be spent in preparation for my return to Sierra Leone. I'll try to update you before I leave. Sulum volo ut exsisto mihi.......
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 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. 
