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Tuesday, Oct. 30, 2001
The mouse is now up in mouse heaven shaking his little fist and jabbering away, rather angrily, at your truly. RIP. Bet he lays off the peanut butter now, heh heh.

In the cyclical world of self-employed construction, you're either so busy you can't make time for yourself or so slow that you have too much. This is one of the slow weeks. Which probably explains why I have so much time to scheme up sure fire mouse traps, and such.

But for those of you who are employed in the more conventional sense, or in school, here's how you are better off than me.

Uummmmmmmmmmm......gee, this is harder than I thought.

Okay, here's one. You've got somebody to rant and rave about. Sure you do. There's at least one person in your 9 to 5 day, probably in a position of authority, who deserves the favor of being bitched out. Smacked. Poked in the eye. Given a fiercely prolonged nuggey. Told off. Caught in a compromising position with a goat.

This is the same person who supplies you with much colorful material for your daily/weekly/monthly monolouge at the local watering hole. There you are, with a herd of like minded friends who are all winding up the day with a round of funny stories. Now you're sitting there laughing, but in the back of your mind you know that your turn to contribute is coming up. Who's the first person you think of?

Of course, the straw boss! The same wretch who hours ago canceled your vacation, spilt coffee on your new slacks, showed off pictures of you at the New Year's party when you were unconcious in the bathroom stall and gave a raise to that idiot savant bimbo in cubicle 3. The same one who shakes hands with the new client and shakes his head at you. The one who's had two spouses already and is trying for three.

You are vengeful, you are rude, you are funny. Your story has the gang falling off the bar stools. They call over some more friends and gasp out a request for more. More tales of straw boss! Tell us the one where straw boss split his pants while bending over to try for a look up your dress. Or the time straw boss ran his car into the handicapped sign in the parking lot and you saw the irony in that.

By the end of the night the whole bar is crowded round. You have a pile of shot glasses in front of you. People will go around all day tomorrow telling their friends "You shoulda been at Salty Dog's last night. Oh my God was Snakehips ever in rare form."

You see? You have a lightning rod for your moment in the sun, a source for dark humor, a Goliath to your David. You have straw boss. Life should be good. Work or school should be fun.

Instead, you sit around moping and bitching about how you'd like to run your own show, do what you do best, start a company that will have Bill Gates fawning over you and shoveling heaps of cash into your Armani briefcase. Be retired in a few years. Dabble in philanthropy and rock gardening.

Keep your straw boss happy. Stay right where you are and share the misery with others. The world needs more bar room humor.

You do know I'm kidding, right?

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