I’m seriously thinking about offering guided tours to search for Steve Fossett. Who knows? Maybe someone will find him! Buy myself a new Hummer (probably get a steal on one, now), a fleet of dirtbikes and write them Sumbitchs off!
Is it that they taught you right from wrong? Or did they simply fail to teach you how to lie cheerfully to people while you fleece them for all you can get?
Oh no, I can do that well enough. I work in a haunted house attraction at Halloween, so I feel fairly confident about my ability to lie cheerfully for money. As long as they don’t actually believe my lies, it’s all good. I freely attribute my finely honed extemporaneous bullshitting ability to years of loving tutelage from Dad.
The hell of it is, I am just as certain that I could do much better by giving myself over to blithe amorality. Quite by accident, I once convinced a college acquaintance that I had genuine psychic powers by performing a few simple mentalist tricks from a Penn & Teller book. Even long after the gimmick had been explained, he was unwilling to let go of the notion that I had some secret ‘gift.’ Billy was far from the sharpest knife in the drawer, but still: there’s a lot of his ilk out there, is what I’m saying. I have no doubt that I could persuade him to wait in the woods for Bigfoot to walk by.
Take a look at the Most Recent Downloads page on FLICKR. Apparently, it’s easier than I thought it was to take blurry, poorly lit pictures with automatic digital cameras.
I think, maybe, that some camera have an embedded feature that blurs the picture when the subject is two people in a night club mashing their faces together and holding up foo-foo drinks or making hand gestures.
Maybe that’s the problem. Bigfoot always has a foo-foo drink in his/her hand.