So, anyway, the SackPhone (it’s shaped like a ham) just started buzzing and I get this urgent message that there’s now a freaking employment crisis in Modesto. For freak’s sake, people, didn’t I just save your bony butts from an educational catastrophe last week? I mean, at some point we need to stand back and ask whether having me solve all your problems is actually helping you or hurting you. What would my fellow gelatinous flesh-sack, Dr. Phil, have to say about all this? It might be time for some tough love, folks (as opposed to rough love).
Well, in the meantime, I’ll figure out this one problem for you, but you’d better not need my help again anytime soon…because I will seriously lose it. Ok, here we go:
The string-pulling powers that be provided some links to Modesto employment fun facts. I’ve read them and have absorbed the pertinent details without feeling the need to endlessly reiterate them all right here. What I’ve discovered is that Modesto is an armpit (I can call it that because I’m from here, however, outsiders better not dis it or I’ll give them strong doses of both the Evil Eye and Stinkybutt). It has nearly twice the national unemployment rate and a buttload of crime. Our biggest claim to fame is George-freaking-Lucas, but he won’t touch this town with a 10-foot pole. We’ve got agriculture, but that doesn’t seem to employ anyone (less than 1,000) and retail and manufacturing. Whoop-de-doo.
I’m imagining myself in a cool, dark pub with a pint…or is that not what you had in mind? In a few years all will be back to normal. Your marriage might have broken up and your children might be in the system somewhere, but things are balancing out. You may even be able to move out of your parents’ basement. Give it time, it will happen –after all, what goes down, must come up.
*It’s a freaking word now. It means “to have limbs” i.e. arms and legs, unlike yours truly.