Consider this my two weeks notice, mutha fuckas...

I quit my low-paying, spirit-breaking, pushing credit cards on poor people job!

"When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

Or, as Tommy Jefferson said to the tyrant King George III, "Fuck this baby...I shan't sell your crappy electronics or extended warranties any longer." I may be paraphrasing this.

This summer I shall make my way using only my wits, guile and perhaps a chainsaw. If you need any chainsawing, guiling or wittiness around your property ... contact me through this blogsite.

Thirteen days to go. As my punishment for leaving I'll have to wear khaki pants and repeatedly listen to Carrie Underwood and Toby Keith songs.

Mind you, wearing khaki pants and listening to the same ten crappy country songs over and over was part of my job description.

Unless they find a way to make pants khakier or cram more references to Jesus and America into George Strait songs ... I Will Survive.