The Real Deal: Professionals by Bill Goldberg (Yes, for those that know. This is a tribute to Phil Hartman's character Bill Mcneal on one of the greatest TV shows of all time News Radio.)

What is the deal with the so called professionals that make up our society? Do they think they can just do whatever they want without any regard to public safety, or common courtesy? Let’s not even begin to talk about morals, morality died the moment it was incorporated into law. The moment politicians began to take speech lessons from preachers and other great and border-lined retarded prophets. We, the people, must first recognize ourselves as the common people, those that work a grueling shift that consists of back-to-back mindless, thought numbing, skill deteriorating job. Most of us try hard to succeed. We try hard to make ends meet, while these professionals with professional occupations are following through on agendas that are aimed at squeezing more and more out of us. They are like vultures, plotting how much more we can take, how much more pressure could our paychecks a (More)

The Cuckoo Clock by Jonathan D. Stiffy Catherine came to her boyfriend‟s Victorian home after her last class that autumn afternoon. After two faint knocks at the door, she decided to try the knob. James left the door open when he knew that Catherine would be coming to visit. Clarion, Pennsylvania, was one of those rare towns where more than a few residents wouldn‟t have given a second thought to unlocked doors. With a firm push, the door creaked open and she entered a living room filled with Gilded Age furniture and dust-laden artifacts. As she sat her purse down on a coffee table in the center of the room, the chime of a clock echoed from down the hall. She knew the order of the chimes of the many clocks James had around the house. First, the antique Seth Thomas in the kitchen would chime, then the grandfather clock in the living room, followed by the Kassell pendulum in the hall. Lastly, the irritating call of the cuckoo clock on the southern wall of the living room would chime. James had many clocks, but the cuckoo clock—of anonymous brand—did not fit with the others. (more)