One of the many reasons that inspired me to start this blog was because of my excess of free time due to lack of occupation. I am in this predicament by my own accord, but for the last 2 months I have been searching for something to bring home some bread. Well, the durn economic crisis is really nippin at muh haunches and I haven't had much luck finding work... until today.
Today I had my first day of work in several months and it isn't exactly run of the mill. I was called one of the various temp agencies I've groveled at called and asked me to fulfill a very peculiar position...
"So Rick, are you interested in being a mock-suicide bomber?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, you kind of strap on these vests and then you walk around and this machine takes some readings. It's not very difficult and it will be more clear when you get there."
"What's the pay?"
"12 dollars an hour"
"How often could I get paid 12 dollars an hour to be suicide bomber and then be able to spend the paycheck after the fact, right? (awkward pause) Yeah, sign me up."
I arrived at Quantico base at the predetermined time to find 3 very cold looking people operating a strange looking device that was overlooking a field filled with a large triangle of cones. The cones were set apart in an isocolean manner (nerds, you totally know what that is too, don't you?!?) in increments of about 100 yards by 100 yards 20 yards.
"So what exactly are we doing today?" I asked.
"Well, we're going to put fake varieties of mock-suicide bomb vests and conceal them under your clothing. Then you're going to walk from cone to cone so the machine can get an accurate reading and detect whether or not you're strapped."
'Sounds easy enough,' I thought to myself... AND HOW! Monkeys could've done this, but then again, I doubt monkeys would've known what to do with the 40 dollars they would've made after the fact so maybe it was better off I continue to thwart the primate labor unions. We literally spent an hour and a half walking around this large, coneular triangle with a lovely variety of silicone based and shrapnel laden mock-bombs. I wasn't allowed to carry my ipod or my cell phone while we were doing the simulation because apparently those waves can disrupt the readings for the radar machine. I think it's ridiculous to pre-suppose that a suicide bomber wouldn't be bumpin some tunes before you blew himself to the heavens, but rules are rules so I had to abide. Anyhow, the walking was cold but brief, and when I had done my fair share of low-intensity, gentle impact bombing, I was free to go.
I couldn't help but wonder that if you were going to be a real suicide bomber that the training program would be a bit more rigorous, but then again I guess if they limit you to just being a walker and not a runner you'll be even fatter, thereby creating much more blubbery debris to litter the country side for your explosive cause.
I also started thinking about what it would be like to be a middle-eastern trying to peddle a jacket full of verizon phones past a check point that was equipped with one of these machines. I bet it would set that radar off and he would get lit up like a Christmas tree.
The point of this story is that our economy is dragging so low that I had to result to being a suicide bomber for 12 dollars an hour like a common hooker. A common, explosive hooker, damnit! Things better shape up soon or i'm going to have to start taking on jobs as mock torpedoes, and I don't know how long I can hold my breath anymore!
It was a typically weird day, so please, I promise not to use what I now know to blow you up, but only if you can find me a real job. Thanks friends!
Come back again if you want to get blasted
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