Job hunting

Boy did I pick a really great time to look for a job in Portland. I want them to line up like cans. The little odd ones would be like rusted out tomato juice cans from a TWA flight in like 1972. The fatter CEO jobs would be full Cokes that explode in a violent Bellagio-like plume. Anything with a huge responsibility list and wafer-thin pay gets obliterated District 9 style. I’m not even an NRA member. I don’t even know how to use a gun. But I want one. I want one bad. I want a decent-paying job even more.

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