Dear Tim

Dear Tim

I’m scared of graduating. Why?

Because you skipped half your classes and you didn’t learn anything except how to operate a hookah. Me too. That’s why I refuse to graduate. The real world is a hoax. I went there once. Don’t go. It’s controlled by stoned carnies surviving on pork rinds below the earth’s crust, pushing large colored buttons, making shit pop out at you, engaging in mad laughter. And I never have enough tickets for the good rides. Perpetual education is the only reasonable path. Don’t let this alarm you though. If you decide not to lurk near the PUB well into your 30s, Skipper’s is always recruiting fry cooks. In fact I think they’ve instated the draft. They show up at your door and take you away. It’s a twelve-year commitment, two dollars an hour, but you get a paper hat.

Dear Tim

What is the secret to a good job interview?

Please don’t ask that. I lose consciousness near the word “job.” I thought about your question as I walked into Blue Video and I passed out. A 500-pound man was kind enough to revive me by fanning me with a DVD of Six Swedes at a Pump. There was a gleam in his eye. He was onto something. But since my day is ruined anyway, let’s go ahead and speak of the unspeakable. There are countless books on interview tactics. Don’t buy them. They are a byproduct of moneymaking schemes conceived by depressed alcoholics who huff Lysol in luke-warm tubs and cry when no one calls. A job interview is simple. Two things. First, you walk in backwards. If you see anyone breaking rocks with a sledge hammer, then you walk out without having to turn around. File under Jobs for Someone Else. If you don’t smell manual labor, the thing is to just be yourself. If you have no idea who that is, you’re hired. Have a seat. You won’t be standing up for 40 years. Happy, you son of a bitch? I told you to stay in school.

Dear Tim

School has been always been my social outlet. How do I meet people when it’s over?

I assume you mean attractive members of the opposite sex. The vast, mechanical world at large does present an icebreaking problem, especially if you stay in Seattle. Elsewhere, someone might start a conversation just for the hell of it. Here, I believe you have to request permission from the mayor and pay a large fee to the city. Six to eight weeks later, you will be provided with a procedural manual in Mandarin. If you know Mandarin, you still won’t get laid. Apparently there is a prestigious award for going through the motions and staring straight ahead. Everyone is currently tied for first. There is also peer pressure. Who are you to break the mold? Shit, you have to break the mold. Ladies. Say hi to Tim.

Dear Tim

Will we find any recourse with issues of health care and social security?

Damn. When did I become a politician? So you’re inexperienced so you can’t get a good job so you can’t get medical benefits so your shitty job doesn’t give you any so you can’t pay bills so you’re way in debt anyway so the thought of retirement benefits is abstract and ridiculous so you don’t care. Well, I guess they already asked W. about that. Seems like “Own’t know” was the right answer. Own’t know either. Do I win something? Maybe going without teeth isn’t so bad (except when the food comes), but it would be nice to be able to talk to a doctor without handing over your kidneys as collateral. I say your kidneys because I couldn’t get a pack of ravenous wolves to accept mine as a gift. That’s off topic. Everyone always talks about going to Canada. Universal health care, etc. Fuck that. They don’t want us, and it’s even colder up there. Let’s go somewhere warm, where no one has or expects shit and $1000 will last a year or two. Somewhere life and beer are both dirt cheap, or at least 20% off. Some kind of discount is required. Of course there should also be a beach and a dumbwaiter constantly within reach.

Dear Tim

Don’t you think if all the rich people divvied out their wealth amongst the poor, we could even things out?

I’m really tired of thinking about money, so…are you talking about global communism or something like that? If so, from my vantage point, fine—after they draw this week’s lotto numbers though. But do we even need to go that far? I think Bill Gates could just give everyone poorer than him a million. That’s everyone, right? He’d still have a few trillion for himself, we could all stop worrying about money, everyone would quit working, the world would go to hell and the anarchists would throw a monster rager, possibly with nut dishes. I’m in. Help Tim get to Canada by forwarding your credit card number to webbtide@yahoo.com. He’ll bring you back a shot of Canadian Club!