Aggregate Saturday:
I have decided to not return to L.C.C.C. as an instructor this semester. In almost 12 years I have only missed one other semester, and that was when pressures at the radio station forced my hand.
This time it’s my choice, mostly. Circumstances at the main source of income have changed and I have been asked to pitch in a bit more. It’s more responsibility (read: more work, more hours) so I don’t feel I can do both. Especially since the course I was teaching needs to be re-written.
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I am somewhat conflicted about all this. The last two semesters have been the most interesting and rewarding ones in some years. But also the most frustrating. Many of my students were a pleasure. A handful should learn manners, which as I perceive it, was not my job.
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I am unsure what to write for the WEEKENDER this week. Not an uncommon occurrence. I hate to add to the tsunami of ink over that cocksucker former judge but maybe I must put my spin on it.
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I have a lot on anger these days. I don’t know. Maybe I need an anger management course. I wrote something very vile the other day about Jehovah’s Witnesses…no, not about them but about my behavior to them, that I wonder why.
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The goofy neighbor now has three Jack Russell terrorists. They circumvent my $10,000 fence with aplomb and scurry around my yard. I like dogs. I dislike my goofy neighbor intensely. I worry that something bad will happen to his pets on my property. Really, I do, because if it does it will be war. I wouldn’t harm a hair on the mutts heads. I would cheerfully hold my neighbor underwater until the bubbles stop. See, the anger?
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It’s almost Fall. I realize that it’s not, but when we are halfway through August the fairs and fests begin to advertise, the back to school sales really begin in earnest and the leaves start to infiltrate the pool. I hate winter. I love Fall.
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Except for the leaves.
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I have loads to do. WEEKENDER column to pull out of my ass. A story about the scuba diving NASCAR truck series driver to write. And the obligatory yard sales to attend this AM.
Thanks for reading this tripe.
The Rant D’Jour invites you to improve your mind. Read the funny papers.
Poor old Scranton (that’s Scra-ann to some). It’s always been the butt of jokes…more
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