Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Slim and Franke
Happy New Year
Monday, August 05, 2013
THE SUNDOWN TOO MOTEL
Question Of The Week August 5, 2013
What was the least favorite job you have ever had and why?
I worked as a telephone solicitor in 1965 selling magazine subscriptions. We worked out of a sleazy motel and used fake names. It was embarrassing enough to go there for my job interview but even worse to go to a motel room every day for work. I hated that job and believe I only stayed a week. Can you imagine people asking me where I worked and I had to say "The Sundown Too Motel"? Some people suggested a few of the girls were selling more than magazine subscriptions. I was 19 and very naive.