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July 2010

The Strawberry Patch

I could wait here till hell freezes over for one skid of berries. Why? Because the only PRIME TIME is theirs, mine is unimportant. I can stand in the cooler and watch a forklift operator paste little stickers onto boxes, while the clock ticks a death knell on my already very tight schedule. Bell peppers, stacked all around, are oblivious to my requests, and the man on the phone wants to argue about quantity and time.

After the berries are loaded up, I have five more stops to make. Five more rushed destinations, five more chances to get further behind...the berries are chillin. The guy in the market is heating up.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Watch Out Below!

This week I am going to make an effort to write nearly every day. I want to share my life with all of you. I want you to know what it is like to be on the road working in a truck. I haul hazardous materials and temperature controlled commodities; my days are filled with driving, paperwork, law enforcement, safety issues, and sometimes mechanical failures. I handle thousands of dollars every week for fuel purchases, repairs, equipment maintenance, and sometimes loading and unloading fees. I make hundreds of quick decisions everyday.

I start taking calls early in the morning, and I make appointments accordingly. People depend on me to protect their cargo and equipment from thieves, other drivers, weather, and acts of God. My job is about customer service and reliability. No matter what, I am expected to show up on time and deliver the goods. Without me, and all of the men and women who work in my industry, the rest of you would live in a third world existence. Think about it. Everything you touch has traveled on a truck. Everything.

Looking for Extra Readers

Since I bought my little cheap townhome in Sealy, my life has been extra interesting. This is why I have chosen to share my thoughts around the country. In order for me to deliver my message I posted a huge sign on the back of my tractor/trailer. Curious to discover whether or not my sign has brought me any extra traffic, I hurried to my 'big' computer to have a look-see….I am happy to report a slight uptick. I expect this to increase quite a bit once I hit Los Angeles traffic, and other heavily populated urban areas. People get bored on their little Blackberry and iPhones sitting around in dense smog. They like to hit a new website once in awhile.

Stories about the groaning of neighborhood gossips, the vanity of the flouncer (she talks and walks like she is high-stepping on a needle full of meth), the tawdry politics of the local school district, the filth below, and other various interesting topics (kiddie porn perverts etc.) should keep readers entertained between brief spurts (excuse the pun) of moving traffic. Fictional characters, or real life events, the root of my inspiration knows well its own common name. Since vanity is so "in" these days, to the point of absurdity, my characters can revel in their self pride, and adulate at their own meager successes. I can make them famous!

But maybe I should stick to more relevant and important discussions: the lies of BP, Obama's frivolities, the encroaching threat of Islamist radicals, the overtaking of America by illegal residents, raising peppers, and the importance of a clean car. Intellectually, these topics should create traffic time discussion, debate, and bring carpoolers closer together, mentally and spiritually. After all, nothing is more dismal than a carpool gone wrong; some poor individual slinking to the curb and feeling the shame of an argument taken too far could possibly commit suicide or strike his wife.

I will let all of my late night, and dedicated closet readers, know how my sign is doing. I may even invest in a couple of them for my long-distance friends…the more advertisements out in the real world the better.

My Visit to Baton Rouge and New Orleans

The Waffle House just isn't as much fun as it used to be...people in Louisiana are distraught. My fork lift driver usually spends his weekend fishing with his father, but not anymore.

The casino is kinda quiet, and the local papers are stuffed with bad news.

But I really think if we could get the bureaucracy out of the way, then the folks of Louisiana could save their way of life.

They are determined to keep fishing, playing the slots, drinking cold beer, and breathing in the hot salty marshy air. They aren't going to let some old stuffed shirt like Thad Allen stand in the way of their progress. They are sick of power tripping well heeled paper pushers standing in the way of clean up.

They are sincerely disappointed in Obama's response...he will never get reelected.

The lack of urgency is not born of the local folks, it seeps in from Washington, BP, and Thad Allen's inefficient egoistic bombastity.

My fork lift driver misses his fishing rod, but he would walk off the job in a minute to clean up some oil.

The local protester tried to assist in the clean up but he was turned away.

Career women in starched blouses are trying to tell the people of Louisiana how to take care of their birds.

Obama will never get reelected.

I could smell some oil on the wind. I searched the bridge pilings for signs of gooey oil.

The Mississippi River was strangely empty of traffic...everything seems slower, in time with Washington's response.

BP is a bunch of liars and crooks.

"We don't even know who is in charge out there, " my waitress quipped.

I am pretty sure no one is in charge...just a bunch of bureaucrats all tripping over each other.

I guess we should thank our God that this was only oil and not a dirty bomb. Obama will never get reelected.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®