Sunday, March 30, 2008

Don't Say You Weren't Fucking Warned

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Thanks Zoe.

In other somewhat random observations, Little League is off and running again. I haven't figured out which team my kid was drafted for, (apparently he went pretty high, even though we dropped out of the evaluation due to cold, because some of the coaches had scouted our Fall Ball team. I find this deeply disturbing, yet oddly flattering to my son), but there's a chance that he's on the same team with another kid who has a father who coaches, and that father is my wife's gynecologist. Should make for some interesting dugout conversations anyway.

I noticed in the news that some seal hunters were on a boat that capsized and they drowned during the annual seal hunt up in Canada. My reaction? Good. Can't happen to enough seal hunters. You want to kill an animal and eat it, hey, go for it. Kill it, skin it, wear it and leave the meat to rot? Fuck you, enjoy the bottom of the bay. And that goes for trophy hunters too. Anyone shooting a bear just to mount a trophy might as well walk around with a sign that says "Ask me about my abnormally small penis"

OK, back to work on that cheerful note. Have a good day while I try to think up ways to slur Georgia. The tough part is finding things that aren't true.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Florida: America's Penis

And judging from the map, we're hung like a rhino! And uncomfortably close to Haiti! Wow, have we learned nothing in health class?

But enough about my phallic obsessions, it's time for Chapter 14 in "Know Limpy's States"!

Florida is the 27th state, entering the union on March 3, 1845. Jews everywhere suddenly felt a strong desire to move south for the winter. Quick, what's a Jewish person's favorite wine? "I wanna go to Miameeeeeeeeeee" Oh, I've got a million of these. Should be a hit at my nephew's upcoming bris.

But we're talking about Florida, not my issues with an integrated extended family.

Flordia is known as "The Sunshine State", although I personally prefer the unoffical nickname, "God's Waiting Room". True, Florida is a state blessed with an abundance of sunshine, but it's also blessed even more by an abundance of little old ladies and men dressed in polyester clothing with colors not found anywhere in nature, wandering about looking for a dinner special at 3 pm, all the while cruising down the road at 28 mph with their turn signal on for a right turn that never seems to come.

Florida is home to some of the best beaches in the world, especially when they're full of drunk twenty-somethings who will show their tits for a quarter. OK, sue me, those aren't tits. I'm kind of an ass man anyway. Every year hordes of college kids descend on Florida beaches for spring break and get drunk and naked and everyone complains about it for two weeks until the kids sober up and leave and the residents can get back to complaining about what's really important, like the hordes of Cubans and Haitians descending on the beaches.

Actually, the latter are probably more likely to work than the former, so I don't see what the fuss is.

I was supposed to go to spring break one year. Then at the last minute the guy with the car lit out for Costa Rica. Prick.

Florida tops the nation in producing sugar and citrus fruit and ranks second in tomatoes, strawberries, cocaine imports, greenhouse and nursery products, and may lead the world in bales of marijuana washing up on shore.

There are 17,019,068 people in Florida. In 1959, there were 2.8 million. Think about that for a minute. 50 years ago, across that entire dangling peninsula, there were less than 3 million people. Today, more than 17 million people. Isn't that amazing? One has to ask oneself, "how is it possible to do that in an environmentally responsible way, especially considering the high water table?" And the answer is "You don't!" Nope, you just build dams and levees and strip malls and cities and strip malls and roads and bridges and strip malls and trailer parks and great big over-priced theme parks based on vermin HEY KIDS!
and strip malls and housing developments and senior centers and golf courses and then, for good measure, throw in some strip malls.

As a result, Georgia and Alabama, at a minimum, will probably declare war on Florida in the next couple of decades over water rights. Also I hate strip malls.

Florida is also a vacation destination for millions of people every year. This year, that will include yours truly, who is being dragooned onto taking the kids to Fucking Disney World. Truly, my cup runneth over. After that we'll go stay with friends on the west coast and I'll look for alligators in the swamps. Yes you read that correctly. No I'm not kidding. This year I'm hoping to shoot a bull.

I'm kind of upset thought; apparently you're no longer allowed to bait them with NASCAR radio broadcasts as that's no longer considered "sporting" Pussies. (Note that the caption to the photo was supposed to say "Bull Gator With a Mullet", which makes this picture a lot funnier)

Florida's state bird is the mockingbird, which gives Alabama something else to be pissed off about besides all that water. What, the flamingo wasn't good enough? Actually, if someone in Florida had a sense of humor they'd make the official state bird the "Northern Snowbird" and put up a picture of a couple of dorks in bermuda shorts, black socks and a "South of the Border" T-shirt. On a related note, I'll be in Florida this year.

The state flower is the orange blossom, which kind of makes sense. Since they ripped out all of the other plants for the orange groves. Although I love orange juice, so fuck those other plants.

The highest point in Florida is Britton Hill, near Alabama, and 345 feet above sea level. Did I mention that Florida is the lowest state? I didn't? Well, it is. My concerns about global warming are somewhat eased by thinking about people like Donald Trump watching their mega-million dollar oceanside estates become so much flotsam. Then I giggle. It's very therapeutic.

IF YOU'RE IN FLORIDA YOU SHOULD: What are you, an idiot? Go to the beach! That's what it's there for. There's no reason at all to go into the middle of the state, unless you like strip malls and trailer parks. In which case, welcome to paradise Fuck-o, here's your camera! I enjoy poking around in the swamps and kayaking through the estuaries, (and showing off my vocabulary by typing words like "estuaries", even when I'm not 100% what they are). If you go in the spring, you can watch srping training baseball. If you go in the summer, you can watch 'A' league baseball, which is so bad that you'll think you could do better. You'll be wrong about that, but you can ease the pain of your athletic ineptitude with $1 Sam Adams beers, and that makes it all worthwhile. Of course, you should go to Key West
for any reason at all, or for no reason, as Key West is pretty much the greatest place on earth. With the exception of all the goddamn Jimmy Buffett stuff all over the place. I grew to hate that man while I was down there, although most of that hatred could proably be better described as seething jealousy at his being able to turn a life of alcohol, beaches and fairly craptacular music into a multi-million dollar empire. But other than that, Key West is just friggin' awesome.


I'm thinking she didn't win.

This looks to have been a better year.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: Like everyone else, I've got elderly relatives stashed away in Florida. We have friends that relocated to the coast and we'll sponge off of them for free lodging when we go on vacation every now and again. I honeymooned in Key West. I love the swamps and beaches in Flordia and hate the cities and over-development. It's one of the most beautiful places I know and fast on it's way to becoming an ugly shit-hole. I hope they figure it out.

Also I had a near-death experience while swimming in the ocean in Florida. I was bored and ecided to swim out about 150 yards or so to a buoy. Evey now and then I'd pick my head up to get a bead on the buoy. I was drawing pretty close when I looked up and saw, a little ways out from the buoy, a black, triangle-shaped fin disappear into the water. I turned around and slowly swam back in, trying to make as little splashing as possible and hoping sharks can't smell shit. I made it to the beach and walked over towards my wife who said

"Wow, you were pretty close to that dolphin"

The next day I was in the water again, albeit closer to shore, and was able to swim with two wild dolphins, if by "swim" one means "get close enough to two dolphins to see the scars on their back while they cheerfully ignore you" Still one of the coolest things I've ever done.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Yes indeed. More than once even.

Next up: Georgia: Can We Borrow A Cup Of Water?

Friday, March 21, 2008

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

Our sponsor, of course, would be me. Because I refuse to sell out and let this blog become a corporate shell of itself. Because I have pride, dignity, integrity, and mostly, a blog so bad that no one in their right minds would pay dollar one to sponsor the fucking thing. Truth be told I'd pimp this fucker out in a heartbeat for the price of a decent cheeseburger and milkshake combo.

As some of you, (and by some I mean one. Say hello Tysgirl), have noticed I haven't been popping up as much as I used to. Until recently, I'd cruise around all my links, and some links I hopped to from other links, and some from those links, and some Cambodian porn sites that I'd rather just forget about, many times a day. I'd leave witty, (obnoxious and poorly edited) comments strewn about the internet like so many used condoms in the New York governor's office.

Seriously, even the blind guys getting more tail than me. What the hell?

Well, the reason is fairly simple. I have a job now. For the last 8+ years I worked for one company. When I started we worked like rabid beavers, handling 120+ cases each, trying 10-15 a year, and for some reason, foaming at the mouth and chewing a lot of wood for some weird dam project down south. I never really understood that last part. But for the last couple of years, things tailed off. By the end, I was routinely coming into work no earlier than 11 and leaving by 4:30. And more than keeping up with my diminishing case load. And also finishing off the dam with some tender young saplings.

Most people would consider that a dream job, and for awhile I did as well. Let's face it, getting paid full-time to work part-time doesn't suck. It also doesn't last. I've said this before, and again, I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think that job is going to be around in two years. I know they're not trying to fill my position, (although really, who could? he said, puffing out his pale, scrawny chest and blinding three people), and that's probably not really a good sign to anyone else there. So basically, I made the decision that I was too young to retire and it was time to get a real job.

So I did and the hell of it is, the fuckers want me to work. And I have the caseload now that most of my time is spent dealing with the law, and less randomly cruising the internet looking for ways to make my cock get bigger. Or just big. Whichever. Also I have a new computer system to figure out, new email to figure out, (damn thing has already resulted in three conferences with the Help desk, and now there's some other warning popping up. Something is "corrupt" I've been told, and for once it isn't me), and just in general I don't think it's a good idea for the new guy to spend a lot of time fucking off. There'll be plenty of time for that next month.

But I do generally make some rounds late at night. So I'm around, just kind of tired and somewhat less inclined to type. Things will pick back up, of that I'm sure, I just need to adjust to actually working for a living again. Once I do, this place will rise to the same level of mediocrity you've come to know and tolerate.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Soooooo-eeeeee! Pig, Pig, Pig, Pig!

But enough about the official song of our next state. It's time to learn all about Arkansas, Chapter 13 in "Know Limpy's States".

Arkansas is the 25th state, entering the Union on June 15, 1836, and then, in perhaps the first documented case of an entire state developing attention deficit disorder, leaving to join the Confederacy in 1861. How'd that work out for you anyway? Arkansas gets its name from the French, who learned of a tribe named for the south wind which was spelled, in French anyway, "Arkansas", but pronounced Oo-ka-na-sa, so now you know why Arkansas is pronounced differently from Kansas. I, for one, will sleep better tonight.

The territory that would become Arkansas first became part of the US with the Lousiana Purchase. Arkansas was such a desirable territory that Lewis and Clark made sure to start their expedition to chart the new lands out of Missouri, thereby ensuring they'd never have to look at anything actually in Arkansas.

Which is too bad, becuase they missed such neat stuff as Crater Diamonds State Park, where the public is actually allowed to wander about and keep any diamonds they find, which is an interesting way of ensuring that a state's natural resources are preserved for generations to come. Most parks I know of subscribe to the motto "take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints", but apparently in Arkansas it's "Fuck it, bring a pick-axe and grab whatever you can."

Arkansas has a town called Hope, which you've no doubt heard of ad nauseum, as it produced a former president and lover of blow-jobs and a recently running for president and a thinks-the-constitution-should-be-amended-to-reflect-the-bible troglodyte who was running for president until people starting actually listening to him, whih is pretty neat for a town so small it doesn't seem to appear on the map of Arkansas in this book. Either that or I just can't see it due to failing eyesight after years of mastur----, uh, reading in poor light and watching TV too close.


(I just found it. It's in the southwest corner)

Arkansas also had a heartwarming role to play in the Civil Rights movement, requiring an actual invasion of federal troops to make sure black kids could go to high school with white kids. Sort of like Boston but with less busing or violence.

Arkansas is known as "The Natural State", due in no small part to its apparent committment to the environment as exhibited in its "Take Whatever You Want" approach to state parks, or possibly the fact that its pretty much still in the same natural state its been in since the Stone Age. Here we see a photo of the Arkansas Open from 2006.

Arkansas's state bird is the mockingbird. For a useful guide on how to kill these pests, click here. Boo Radley, incidentally, later was elected a Senator from Arkansas.

The state flower is the apple blossom. It probably should be rice, since Arkansas produces 45% of the US rice crop every year. Arkansas is apparently pretty soggy.

The highest point in Arkansas is atop Magazine Mtn in the Ozarks, some 2,753 feet above sea level, or approximately the same altitude that Maggie starts running uphill in Montana.

There are 2,725,714 people in Arkansas. Most try to claim they're from Missouri or Louisiana.

IF YOU'RE IN ARKANSAS YOU SHOULD: While I read here that the whitewater rafting and hiking, (and apparently the amateur diamond mining), are real draws, if I were ever to go to Arkansas, (and as you can clearly tell by my idiotic rambling here, I haven't), it would be to go to Bentonville and burn down the Wal-Mart headquarters.

Holy Crap! Clearly I've underestimated the powers of Ozark inbreeding!

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Absolutely none, other than spreading vile and unsubstantiated rumors about it just now. Except for that one about Wal-Mart. I fucking hate Wal-Mart.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, and that's not likely to chnage after this little opus. Which is sort of too bad judging by the quality of former Miss Arkansas.

Up Next: A less than thrilling ride through Florida, where I'll pick up some much needed electoral votes.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Future Plans

Powerball, one of the multi-state mega-lotteries, is up to $275 million (that's like $185 million Euros!) for Saturday's drawing. I bought two tickets instead of my usual one, so I'm pretty much a shoo-in. Lasy night I let my wife know that if I win I am going to hire a $5,500 an hour hooker,
just to see what they do that justifies the price.

My wife said that if we, (notice she changed "I" to "we"? No dummy she), win $275 million, I can go ahead and hire a hooker. So as far as I'm concerend we have a legally binding agreement. You'd all better keep your fingers crossed, because I will definitely let you all know what she does to justify $5,500 an hour.

My only real concern, (aside from disease, arrest, loss of whatever shreds of dignity I may still have), is what we're going to do for the other 45 minutes.

Coming soon:

No really, I mean it this time.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Cue Sunset

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I was going to get to Arkansas today, even to the extent of bringing the book I'm using for research, (which you should understand to mean "plagiarize"), in to the office with me. But with less than 48 hours to go, (considerably less if I have anything to say about it), I'm spending all of my time, (except now), making sure to tie up loose ends and really try to make sure there is nothing in my office that needs doing before I leave. Obviously I can't settle every case, but I will make sure all the reports are up to date. It looks like I'll actually make that by tomorrow, so that's cool.

Of course, tomorrow will be interrupted by a good-bye luncheon, which I thought I had rather emphatically made clear I did not want. You may not have picked up on this, but I'm not a particularly sentimental type of fellow. I believe the answer I gave was "If we have some maudlin fucking good-bye ceremony somebody is going to eat their own balls" Well,we are. Maybe my mistake was using the term "maudlin" and leaving room for interpretation. Perhaps I should have substituted "any". So now we are, and not wanting to break my word on my last day here, someone's going to have to eat their own balls. Fortunately we're having Chinese so no one will notice. Well, almost no one anyway. One guy noticing is probably inevitable.

Because I know you love it, more musical recommendations. Lately I've really been into The Heartless Bastards a really good garage-rock type band out of Ohio. The singer
has an amazing voice, kind of quirky, but I can't get enough of it. Sort of like my problem with crack, but that's really none of your business now is it? I've also been listening to The Hangdogs
as much as possible as well. They're described as a "drunken alt-country band out of NYC, intent on either personal salvation ot damnation", so they were a sure bet. Unfoturnately they're now longer together and it's kind of hard to get their music, (legitmately anyway), but if you can find it, give it a lesson. My personal favorite is "The Gun Song", which is either pro-gun control, anti-domestic violence or both. Not to give away the ending but with a closing line like "and she blew a hole right through that fucker's heart" and a chorus that that goes

Actually, fuck it, here's the whole song. Sing it in kind of a country type twang. it'll help if you're sort of drunk while you do it. Hopefully this doesn't get me sued, but since I'm trying to get people to buy music from a great if apparently defunct band, it's worth the risk.


he was drunk depressed and crazy when he bought himself the gun
over the counter in some pawn shop on south main
one feel of that cold steel and he gratefully unwadded
the last fifty dollars to his name

he walked back to the subdivision, into the house
all excited to show her his new gun
she stopped packing right away when he put it to her head and told her
"the thing is, i still love you, hon."

CHORUS (Editor's Note: cheerful isn't it? When I renew my wedding vows this song's in the running for the first dance)

see your reflection in the blue steel and it's too late to run
the romance was gone with that first bruise
see, cupid don't shoot arrows out the barrel of a gun
and love don't make the ten o'clock news

she waited till he passed out, then she dashed her cigarette out
in the crumpled pile of her old wedding gown
she thumbed a ride to fredericksburg got a car there at the hertz
and she stopped into a pawn shop west of town

he tracked her credit card to clovis just to tell her he still loved her
he found her waiting tables in some bar
she smiled, said "oh darlin," slid her hand beneath her apron
and she blew a hole right through that fucker's heart


they acquitted her on grounds of the gun in his cold hand
still she ain't smiled once since that bloody day
they UPSed back both the guns, inherited and owned
so she sold em in some pawn shop on south main

see, cupid don't shoot arrows out the barrel of a gun
and love don't make the ten o'clock news

Trust me, it's a great tune. Listen to The Heartless Bastards and The Hangdogs. You'll be a better person for it.

And if I tell you I don't want a going away party, listen to me. We'll both be better off. Now where are those damn scissors?

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Oh I Wish I Were In The Land Of Cotton

but then the boll weevils showed up in the 1930's and now I'm stuck in fucking Alabama!

Chapter 12 in "Know Limpy's States", which is now virtually rocketing along while I studiously ignore Tysgirl's request for a "100 Things About Me" entry. Really, how entertaining would it be to read "I lie about the size of my penis" 100 times?

Alabama is the 22nd state, entering the Union on December 14, 1819. Originally settled by the French, the region was named after the Indians in the area, who called themselves "Alibamu", which I'm sure means something other than "Yes, thank you, we'd like nothing better than to have you kick our asses, violate several treaties and then force us to move to Oklahoma", but that's pretty much exactly what happened to them within 21 years of Alabama joining the US.

At any rate, after establishing a European settlement at Mobile Bay, the French lost the territory to the British in the French and Indian War. You can read all about that war here, (actually, you probably need to buy the book; staring at the order page isn't going to help), where you will learn vast amounts about the Iriquois, the early colonies,European politics, why you shouldn't build forts near Pittsburgh when you know goddamn well the French are out there and are buddies with pretty much every single Indian group in a 100 mile radius, and all sorts of other neat stuff, but you won't learn a single thing about Alabama because no one cared about it at the time.

Alabama, the original "player to be named later".

At any rate, once Andrew Jackson defeated the Creek Indians in the War of 1812, rising demand for cotton and Alabama's fertile conditions for producing the stuff, led to immigration from Tennessee and Georgia, as though anyone needed an excuse to leave those areas back before electricity. Some people came less willingly than others, but, much like Rhode Island, let's all close our eyes and pretend slavery never happened.

Alabama, feeling her oats, (or her cotton as the case may be), seceded from the Union in 1861. 15,000 dead Alabamians later, Alabama was back in the Union, like it or not. The good news, such as it was, was that thanks to General Sherman's efforts during the unpleasantness, there was a large demand for building materials, and Alabama soon launched its iron and steel industry. Its largest city, Birmingham, soon became known as "The Pittsburgh of the South", probably because they both make a lot of steel. Pittsburgh would have sued for defamation, but no one there could read at the time.

Of course, you can't talk about Alabama without talking about buses. And you can't talk about buses without talking about that uppity Rosa Parks. As we all know, (except in Rhode Island where we pretend we just happened to be selling rum in Africa and we gave this one guy a ride in our boat and next thing we know he's clapped in chains in some southern port and we don't know nuthin' about nuthin' anyway), the US used to have slaves. Not just in the south, but all over the place. Then the north indutrialized and realized it was even cheaper to use Irish and sort of phased things out. But the south kept using slaves because their economy was primarily agricultural, and required outside work, and let's face it, Irish people sunburn like there's no tomorrow. This led to two things. First, when a primiarily agricultural region gets in a war with a primarily industrial region, the agricultural region is going to get pummeled eventually no matter how bad the former's generals are. And second, after a hundred years or so of slavery, race relations are not going to be what they should be.

Which brings us to 1955. Alabama, and in fact many states, had segregated buses. Blacks had to give up their seats for white folk if required. Indians couldn't even get on the bus since they'd all been sent to Oklahoma in the 1830's. So one day Rosa Parks got on a bus. Legend has it that she's worked a long day and her feet were tired. I've since read she was actually doing this deliberately, but it really doesn't matter. She sat down. Some white douchebag demanded her seat. Rosa eloquently told him to get fucked. She got arrested. A boycott of the buses ensued. The bus segregation stopped. Black people got to vote. Martin Luther King made a speech saying he had a dream that, unlike my dreams, could be repeated in public. Schools got desegregated. Water fountains got desegregated. All was well and an era of peace and racial harmony descended on the land and then gay people started clamoring to get married and fucked it all up for everyone.

Or something like that. Anyway, long story short, there's an issue with race in the south. And indeed the whole country. And for that matter the entire world. It's not funny, but Alabama played a crucial role in bringing that whole ugly issue to the forefront, forced a confrontation which wasn't always pleasant, and led to at least some degree of improvement. So it bore mentioning. But I'm not going to bring it up again and when we get to Mississippi and Georgia I won't be making lynching jokes because those just aren't fucking funny. Fortunately, inbreeding, rickets, illiteracy and general dumbassery are funny, so there's plenty of fertile ground to be plowed there.

Alabama is called "The Heart of Dixie". Because it's in the middle of the South dumbass.

Alabama's state bird is the Northern Flicker. Does anyone else see the irony here? Damn carpetbagging birds.

The state flower is the Camellia. I don't know what that is, but here's a picture.
Tysgirl would take a better one, but then she has a camera that costs more than my car. Which may have been built in Alabama for all I know.

The highest point in Alabama is Cheaha Mountain, in the Talladega National Forest. For some reason there are two Talldega National Forests in Alabama. The one with the mountain is closer to the eastern border. The Talladega Raceway is (probably) in Talladega, a city between the two parks. You can watch people drive really fast in circles for hours there, or you could climb a mountain. I'll take the moutain.

There are 4,500,752 people in Alabama. All of them know how to make grits. And every single one of them will tell you that everyone else's grits taste like shit. Also, 2,250,326 of them root for Auburn football and 2,250,326 of them root for the Crimson Tide of Alabama and every year there's a football game between the two that makes the Civil War pale in comparison. And no one else in the country gives a shit.

Roll Tide!

IF YOU'RE IN ALABAMA YOU SHOULD: Having spent all of one week in Alabama, and that week confined to Birmingham, clearly I am an expert in all the things you should do in Alabama. If you're like me, you'll spend your time sitting in an outdoor hot tub, drinking beer and cursing the fact that you're stuck in Birmingham. If you have more initiative, you could visit the Civil Rights Museum. You could send your kids to the US Space Camp in Huntsvile. You could visit scenic Dismals Canyon, (that's what it says in the book anyway), one of the few virgin forests, (or for that matter, virgin anything) in the state. Apparently Aaron Burr hid out there after shooting Alexander Hamilton. I had a friend from Alabama tell me that the Gulf Shore has some nice beaches. She called it "The Redneck Riviera". Or you could do what everyone else does and stand outside with your lighter raised in the air yelling "Freebird" at the top of your lungs.

Yes, southern women do seem to take the whole beauty pageant thing a lot more seriously than the rest of the nation. But since they can pretty much get laid just by using their accents, who's gonna complain?

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: For the last 8-9 years I've worked for a company based in Birmingham. I had to spend a week there once for a training exercise/competition. I spent most of that week confined to a warehouse or hotel. I was also drunk a good deal of the time. I won the competition and gave an acceptance speech standing unsteadily on a table in an Outback restaurant. I am told that the speech was both hilarious and somewhat-less-than-gracious, but I could not tell you for sure. Other than that, I have no connection to 'Bama.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, although my wife came very close to flying down during that week, and I would have paid for the ticket twice over, and then I could have said "yes". And by the way Pug, I've done the electoral math, and unless I get some serious traveling in, I think I'm stuck in the 170's.

Up next, Arkansas. Put up your feet and whittle some!

Monday, March 03, 2008

Now I've Gone And Done It

OK, so I was going to slander Alabama this weekend, or at the very least point out that the whole region down yonder there will soon be engaged in a second civil war over water rights and that, if the rest of us play our cards right, we can turn the whole state into a sort of "Mad Max" theme-park. But then I decided to quit my job instead.

Since I left law school, I've worked for 5 firms/companies in 14 years. Which means that I am either a)gloriously incompetent, b)an incredible asshole who can't get along with anyone for more than a year or so, c)somewhat restless and determind to get as much money for my work as I possibly can, or d) all of the above.

If you guessed d, well, fuck you! I am not an asshole!

The early years were basically me hopping from the first job that paid really well, (really, really well) but provided me with no experience and a definite ceiling to any earning potential, to another job working for an all-but-certified lunatic, (lasted 8 months and the last two of those he was on notice that I was leaving but I agreed to stay so he didn't have to cancel his wedding. That woman, incidentally, should be canonized immediately), to a great job that I lvoed until we started having kids and realized what things cost, to another job that paid well but where I was doomed pretty much from Day 1 when I laughed at a senior partner, to this job, where I've toiled for the last 8-9 years.

The decision was not easy. I like the people I work for. They pay well and the benefits are very good. Truth be told the benefits are probably better than where I'm going, but my kids don't really need braces anyway. The pay is comparable, although at least at first I may make a little less. At my present job I pretty much have carte blanche to come and go as I please. I run the office when the main guy isn't here. Hell, I have access to the checkbook, which shows remarkably poor judgment on someone's part. Anyone want a ride in a Porsche? (Seriosuly, it just took me three tries to spell Porsche, which should tell you just how unfamiliar I am with luxury cars.)

So why leave and start over? The official reason is the commute and travel. We moved our office recently, and while I have a kick ass view of a pond with ducks and geese, (some of them dead), and snow-covered hills, it's significantly farther away from my house. It's just becoming a pain in the ass to drive that far twice a day. Also, we cover the entire state, and most of our business, for whatever reason, for the last couple of years, seems to have shifted downstate. That means frequently driving 130 miles just to attend a 30 minute court conference, and let me tell you, that gets old real fucking fast. Mostly though, I've become, over the last couple of years, increasingly concerned about the overall direction the company is taking in Connecticut. I don't see a committment to increase business here, and I've seen a dramatic drop-off in my workload. While that's great for a general screw-off like me in the short-term, in the long-term I'm not as optimistic about where this job will be.

Regarding that issue, I want to be wrong about that. I want this firm and the people I'm leaving behind to see things pick-up and stay busy and more importantly, get paid like they deserve. I will truly miss them and this place. But I can't ignore my own thoughts, and they're telling me its time to move on to the next phase. And so it goes.

So for the next week and a half, (I gave two weeks notice but I have about 40 hours of carry-over personal time from the last 9 years and I'm using some of it), I'll be trying to make sure that my files aren't a complete horror show for whichever poor bastard inherits them. And, of course, trying to kite as many checks as I can.

EDITOR'S NOTE: I just filled out my exit survey. How much does anyone what to bet that that was the first survey that ended with a quote from Douglas Adams? For the insatiably curious, the quote was "So long, and thanks for all the fish"