By W R Jones
These fellows while making great sacrifices in the interest of our national safety are not helping the national debt.
I don’t understand these international finances at all. Who is loaning us money in the trillions? I expect a huge amount of our debt must be oil. Why do they keep advancing us oil? I would think the next time we ask for another tanker they would say NO. “Why not?” “Because you owe us trillions. When are you going to pay up? Until you pay what you owe, no more credit and no more oil. And, you have 60 days to pay or we are going to collect your entire country.”
I’m expecting the notice in the mail any day now. It will tell me I have a month to move out and I have to leave the country because they forclosed on EVERYTHING. Where will I go? I will be a boat people with no country. Maybe we can have a tiny slice of land next to the Palestinians. It is going to be crowded. I should probably stock up on sunblock.
Here is a skill you would not expect to be so valuable – typing, or I guess it is now referred to as keyboarding. I wonder why they changed the name? I still call it typing. My father owned a printing business so I learned to type as a high schooler. When I enlisted he warned me not to volunteer for anything. I didn’t listen and after a few weeks of boot camp, when we were asked if anyone could type, I shouted out HERE SIR. I had a moments panic when I realized how stupid that was.
It turned out very well indeed. For the duration of bootcamp I only had to type for a few hours a day. This kept me out of boring classes and all the marching and fiddling around. After a week, I convinced the chief it would be a good idea for me to have a special pass so I wouldn’t have to wait in a line of 15,000 for every meal. Every day when the rest of the company returned to the barracks exhausted, I would be there relaxed, refreshed, and reading a book.
The first place I went after boot camp was the aircraft carrier, USS Midway. There I quickly got into trouble by telling a superior (which was everybody) that his wife was fat and ugly. I was sent mess cooking as punishment. Mess cooking is where you chop onions, peel potatoes, swab the deck, wash dishes, etc. Each division on the ship must send two men to mess cook for a 3 month stint. The workday started at 3:00 AM and ended at 9:00 PM with three 10 minute breaks to eat. In port you had 1 day a week off, at sea it was a 7 day a week job. This job pretty much sucked big time. But, it turns out, there are worse jobs. The apprentice oilers (those who worked in the engine rooms) would sometimes beg to stay mess cooking.
After a week of this torture, the chief asked if anyone knew how to type. OH YA – me! The rest of my 3 months was a vacation. Get up at 9:00 AM, leisurely breakfast, bit of typing, then the rest of the day in the library. The person who sent me mess cooking was livid and his wife was still ugly.
I can still type although I hit many more wrong keys than I used to. After typing words so many times you would think I would remember how to spell them. Huh-uh, what happens in the brain? Do those letters fall over sideways, leaning against neurons and shorting them out?