16 November, 2007

10 Reasons I Quit NASA to Become a One-Man Band

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No more salad bar.

Way less free tee-shirts than when I started.

They be straight tripping at the NASA.

I started calling it 'The NASA' then everybody started calling it 'The NASA' and now it is old old old.

The low quality of my work and my ability to shield that news from my superiors would have eventually resulted in the death of an astronaut. Not some dick that works at Cousins -- an astronaut.

Old computers. Green computer screens? The girls showing their junk in Hustler now weren't even born when NASA bought this stuff, and girls in Huster then are now too old to give you a hard on. (That's how Loland tells time -- with Hustler magazines.)

I embarrassed myself at the first NASA picnic and I never fully recovered. It was during the egg carry. I was on angel dust and couldn't stop yelling at the spoon, who was bragging that he had had intercourse with my high school girlfriend. She was a slut, but a spoon? It just hit a sore spot I guess. Later we made friends -- good friends -- but two years ago he moved, literally, to Alaska. I guess I may never see Spoonthew 'Spoony' Utensilman again. Oh, Spoony, mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? Sigh. I get so wistful on angel dust.

Being a One-Man Band has less stringent punishments for misconduct.

No one will ever ask me again if I am using drugs. If they do I will just say "Uhhm... One-Man Band?"

A train whistle sounds just like a train. It knocks them dead in 'She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain!' (If you are another One-Man Band then please don't steal that bit!)

I have written a tambourine/concertina/castanet/football rattle/trumpet connected to an underarm bellows/bass drum 'piece' about NASA that will be a hit because it comes from the heart.

Four words: One-Man Band conventions.

I will get more exercise as a One-Man Band. The only exercise I got at NASA was running out the door at exactly 4:30.

If there are a bunch of old people around you play 'On Top of Old Smokey' and if it's a bunch of kids you play 'On Top of Spaghetti.' My game is tiz-ight!

Is it goofy? Carrying an elbow-operated bass drum on your back while keeping time for long periods is, when you think about it, not unlike what Marines do in training. Are the Marines goofy?

The traditionezi of the One-Man Band has its storied origins in the Ottoman Sultanate's Janissary Band Corps of the 14th Century. Whereas NASA has only been around for about 12 years.

I was unlikely to ever take a space walk or even go on that zero-g plane. There would be no "Put me in, coach!" Rudy moment (unless I impersonated a 'valid').

I am not one of those jackasses that insists on being called a simultaneous multi-instrumentalist and if that makes me politically correct I don't even care.

Eventually I may rise to the Holy Grail of One-Man Bandom -- a salaried employee of a Renaissance Faire.

I'm a loner... a rebel. One-Man Bands are the true punks.

My dream to be a One-Man Band is as beautiful as the glissando of the slide whistle, as clear as the din of the triangle on my left shin, as clever as the high-hat on my head, and as enchanting as the chorus from 'Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts.'

When my wife divorces me I will be free to date younger girls.

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