you can take a man out of 7th grade, but 7th grade never leaves the man

Kathy of ‘The Mutant Weed’ fame, has a father who is nuts about nuts. He lives in Texas and gets peanuts fresh from the farm. Meticulously he selects just the right ones – the “premium” ones. He dries them, and roasts them right in his very own oven. Fresh roasted nuts are so good on their own that they are even tasty unsalted. Normally, unsalted nuts would be a waste of time, but these are good. I should know – I scored about 11 lbs of them a few weeks ago, and I am ordering more of the new crop which will be plucked, dried, and ready to go in about a month.

So as I was munching on some, it occurred to me that if he had the wherewithal, the time, and the ability to ship mass quantities of these things all over the planet, the possibilities for her dad's website would be amazing.

Slogans and marketing:

“Dad’s Salty Nuts”
“Sample Dad’s nuts”
“Dad will ship his carefully handled nuts to you in a nice little box”
“Buy Dad’s nuts. He’ll grow more.”
“Crack open a handful of my Dad’s nuts”
“Nothing beats my Dad’s nuts and a cold beer”
“You can’t beat Dad’s nuts”
“Plump, flavorful and tender skinned….that’s Dad’s nuts”

great job

Each day, I come to work to be bludgeoned, humiliated, spoken down to, talked about behind my back, ridiculed, unappreciated, and blamed.

It's thankless and it worsens exponentially every 24 hours. Trudging and bleak, I walk through the doors feeling like there's a 40 lb sack of shit draped over my shoulders. Yet I continue because it is entirely up to me to make sure my family is clothed and fed and happy. That's what keeps me going, and that is the only glimmer of light at the end of my day.

It is asssumed by my employer that I will continue to do this day in and day out without respite and without fail. I assume they will continue to pay me. There is no thanks, no praise, no merit for these monumental tasks. I will collect my paycheck and I will be happy to receive it.

And then, my life is given back to me in one small act by my almost 2 year old son. I get in the shower, clean my carcass, dry off and open the shower door to see him standing there watching me. I look at him and smile.

"Great job, Dad!" he says.

"Thank you son. Thank you."