My enemy, the worthless Lee Hudson, just showed up at the Navy Musicians Association reunion. Two days late. Typical.
Lee tells me he got married this year and moved to Texas without a job or even a prospect thereof. Waiting to find a position in music education, Milton Leander Hudson, Ph.D, went to Wal-mart and filled out the 75-question online application form. He received an immediate response: Dr. Hudson is not qualified to work at Wal-mart and need not re-apply.
I can't tell you how happy this makes me. To think that Hudbucket is unqualified to sit on a stool in a stupid blue jacket, greeting people and handing them shopping carts fill my heart with unmeasurable joy, a joy that is in no way minimized by the knowledge that, within a week, he'd found a position as Assistant Director of Music in a nearby college.
Believe me, I was glad to be a sympathetic listening ear to an old shipmate who's been through hard times. I'm not the kind of guy who, on hearing such a tale, contains his glee until I he can duck around a corner.
I laughed in his face then and there.
What are shipmates for?
Frank Mullen's very unofficial source of poop, skinny and bitching for present and former U.S. Navy Musicians.
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