Uh-Oh!
Dear Jimbo:
This note is to let you know that I’ve decided to take the day off.
Am I sick? Well, that’s sort of half of the problem. I’m sick and tired of being called upon damned near every farookin’ day at all hours of the day and night (and weekends too) to come up with stuff that doesn’t stink for your crummy blog.
Benefits? Forget it. You provide zero, zip, nada. Hell, I don’t even get a goddamned footnote for the occasional times I hit a long ball for you. You just wanna sit around drinking all sorts of spirits and hang with the Usual Suspects while I do all the heavy lifting around here, for absolutely no money, no benefits, no recognition and no goddamned respect. Hell, an illegal alien wouldn’t take this gig.
I may even take tomorrow off. And, maybe even the next day and the day after that. Waddya gonna do then, Mr. Great Farookin’ Hair? Post one of those “What Kind of Festering Pustule are You?†quizzes?
Feh!
Very truly yours,
Your Muse