Arbeit Macht Frei


Today’s Quote: “It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English — up to fifty words used in correct context — no human being has been reported to have learned dolphinese.” — Carl Sagan


I just learned from my email astrologer, that because I was born on a Tuesday, I have a special birthday angel named Samuel who has been watching over me my entire life. Isn’t that special? For a modest fee, I can get a book that will tell me all about angels and how to communicate with them. Apparently, Sam has been lurking for 53 years and is waiting for me to learn how to talk to him. What? I’ve got my very own special birthday angel who doesn’t speak English? I guess he doesn’t speak Spanish or German either. Maybe they only speak Latin or something. Maybe they speak Dolphinese. I guess I’d have to buy the book to find out.


The month will be over in a few hours but the week will drag on at least another day. Although it’s only a four-day work week, it feels like a eight-day week already. Oh, and I’ll be incognito on Saturday. I’ll be busy making my yard presentable for the Gestapo. Otherwise, it’ll be Krystalnacht all over again. Arbeit Macht Frei.


Don’t forget, Sunday is World Naturist Day. Be sure to wear your Sunday best.


Song: Indiana Wants Me
Artist: R. Dean Taylor
Album: I Think, Therefore I Am
Year: 1970

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Author: Rick

I'm a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe.

2 thoughts on “Arbeit Macht Frei”

  1. I noticed the Yellow Sign of Shame is still in your yard. Do they pick it back up, or is it yours free to keep with your paid taxes?
    How DO these people keep getting elected?
    Will you be doing both the dump and the yard waste place?I have things to send to both, but the dump I could probably do myself. It’s just paint cans. The yard wasteland will require the borrowing of your truck. It’s just the old mulch from the front flowerbed, but not exactly something I can stick in the back of the van. It has to come out so the new stuff can go in. Still no idea how I’m going to dispose of the Giant Lump of Concrete.

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    1. The Yellow Sign of Shame had been lying in the yard. This morning I noticed that the Gestapo had come by in the dead of night to erect it again. The five days have already passed. The other day I got a threatening letter from them. I’m starting to look upon this as harassment. I’m thinking of putting up my own little sign — “I mowed it, OK? Now get off my back!”
      It would be one thing if the grass had been high for a couple of weeks. It really wasn’t that high and I was going to mow it that Saturday anyway. They must think I can just take a day off work to mow my lawn. Friggin’ arse mongers anyway, too chicken shit to actually talk to me and politely ask me to please mow my grass. They can kiss my ass.
      The first thing I’m going to do when I win the lottery is move out of Huber Heights to a place where I don’t have to abide by all these petty little rules.
      I guess I can take the GLC to the dump. I can try to hide the mulch under my brush. I really don’t know if they’ll take mulch.

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