I WAS WALKING INTO THE OFFICE the other day, after a delightful 55 minute commute, when I noticed that there were going to be potential productivity problems. Specifically, my computer was gone. All of the cables, mouse, monitor, and other things were there, but no computer. “That’s remarkable.” I remarked to no one in particular.

My neighbor, being no one in particular, responded. “What is?”

I silently responded with a flourish towards the area where 19 months of gainful employment was formerly housed. My neighbor, hearing no response, looked at my desktop (I do not yet merit an entire desk) and then provided enlightenment, by stating with thinly veiled mirth: “The Computer Guy came and took it after you left last night.”

The Computer Guy! What Horror! The very name of this individual struck fear in all worker’s hearts. My poor PC would be mysteriously ‘worked upon’, my files would be lost, and I would be given a replacement computer long enough to grow dependent on it, whereupon it would be whisked away as well. My mind was reeling, my heart raced, when I realized that, even worse, I would now be forced to try and FIND the Computer Guy.

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HAVING SERVED PROUDLY in the US Army, I find myself often asked about basic training – that initial period of indoctrination into the military. For myself, it was eight weeks at Fort Jackson, SC (The Palmetto State).

Of course, one does not simply go from being a slack-jawed yokel to hard-bitten soldier. There are many steps required to get a person trained. Logistics take up the first week or so. They train about 300 troops per ‘cycle’, so you have to wait until that critical number of people arrive in one place. This ‘Reception Battalion’ is a kind of rest stop for people joining the Army. You fill out paperwork, get your head shaved (mostly), get gear, boots, etc. You are introduced to the military in a very simple, non-threatening manner. Then the buses come.

Continue reading Beat Your Face →

IT WAS IN THE SPRING, while upon my daily commute, that I began to notice a peculiar sort of atmospheric disturbance. It seemed to be snow, but the time of year and region (North Carolina – the Tar Heel State) dictated that this could not be. Onward I drove, and the ‘snow’ seemed to increase, until at last I seemed in a veritable blizzard. Only then did I realize my error – I was driving behind a chicken truck!

I had been steadily gaining on the truck for some time, but had been so absorbed by the odd situation that I could not properly adjust my frame of reference. Now, however, I had ample opportunity to observe. It was a normal sized semi tractor trailer – an ’18 wheeler’. The bed of the truck was flat and consisted of several very large palettes, each of which contained many small cages, stacked very high, with about a dozen chickens per cage. They (the chickens) were white, and decidedly fat. They were undoubtedly bound for the dinner table. Adding insult to injury, they were being buffeted by the winds on the freeway. I resolved to be more circumspect the next time I ate poultry.

Continue reading The Feral Chicken of Clayton →