August 29: Spread Bad News, Feeling Like Crap, Wale of Toe

"Well,I don't like to spread bad news," said the sheep, "but they're fattening you up because they're going to kill you, that's why."

The old sheep is not a good animal.  In fact, he's kind of an asshole.  He fairly revels in imparting the above wisdom to poor Wilbur, thereby ruining the little pig's life.  There's always one in every barn.

Every place I've worked, every organization of which I've ever been a part, has had one or two old sheep.  Nattering nimrods of negativity.  No matter what is happening, these people always find the dark cloud in a silver lining.

I must say that I can be a little bit of a nattering nimrod.  OK, I can be a BIG nattering nimrod.  At the moment, I'm really sick, I'm looking at a whole semester of tired, and I'm going to spend my three-day weekend sleeping and coughing.  I'm an old sheep right now.  I admit it.

Once upon a time, a shepherd named Nimrod lived in the Valley of Woe.  Nimrod spent every day thinking of all the bad things that might befall him.  Tornadoes.  Fleas.  Bad poetry.  Bad haircuts.  A depressed sheep market.  Nimrod never had a good day.

One day, a beautiful princess came by Nimrod's pasture and asked him to be her prince.  Nimrod turned her down because of the possibility of political revolution.

Another day, a wealthy duke rode by Nimrod's pasture and offered to give him a castle, no strings attached.  Nimrod turned him down because of the possibility of marauding cannibals.

Yet another day, a wizard flew by and offered to make Nimrod immortal.  Nimrod turned him down because of the possibility of the sun collapsing into a black hole.

Nimrod eventually died in his pasture, with his sheep, worrying about a mole on his left buttocks.

Moral of the story:  keep your head out of your ass.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

OK, this is funny.  You have to admit it.