Posted on 02/26/2011 1:38:34 PM PST by Squawk 8888
I’m not the wiener peeler, I’m the wiener peeler’s son, And I’m only peeling wieners, ‘Til the wiener peeler comes.
I apologize to pheasant pluckers’ sons everywhere for stealing their tongue-twister.
But who can resist when my Internet fairy, Irene, drops this job ad on my desk? “Get out your resume,” she purrs.
I pause in processing Moonlight Lady submissions, and take a boo.
“Full-time Wiener Peeler,” says the ad.
Wazzat? I ask. A red-hot stripper?
“No. As in weenie. It’s got you written all over it, ” says Irene, and she flutters off.
Well, I’m getting sick of grinding out daily columns like hamburger. So I read on.
“Opportunity. Excitement. Teamwork. Respect.
“At Maple Leaf Foods we are committed to attracting, rewarding and retaining talented people who are passionate about making a positive impact in their professional and personal lives every day.”
A noble mission. What better way to pursue it than as a bona fide full-time professional wiener peeler. The opening is at Maple Leafs’ hotdog plant in Hamilton.
Imagine the awe when you tell fellow partiers your occupation.
Picture the lineup of schools recruiting for career days.
The teachers may giggle, but the kids will scream for free samples.
You’re on Price Is Right and Drew Carey says, “What d’ya do for a living up in Canada, Mikey?”
I peel wieners, Drew.
“Good for you. Wiener peeler. Hmmm. reminds me, folks, get your pets spayed or neutered.”
Anyway, I check around and find yet another job opening at Maple Leaf. Wiener stuffer. Hit it ...
I’m not the wiener stuffer
I’m the wiener stuffer’s son
I’m only stuffing ...
(Ed. note: Stop that, you hotdogger, or we’ll make you pose for a picture like Gilles Duceppe in the silly hairnet.)
NO! Not that! I’ll do anything, boss.
The photo of Duceppe in a cheese factory was a body blow to the Bloc. He looked like a weenie. Un chien chaud. Un hotdog.
I wonder. How do wiener peelers and stuffers look? All dressed?
I call Linda Smith at Maple Leaf Foods and ask: What company wit came up with those job titles?
“They’re in the union contract,” she says. “They’re really a kind of food-processing operator.”
So machines do the actual stuffing and peeling. Thank God. I can’t imagine sitting there all day, fingers numb, going, “hundred thousand and one weenies, hundred thousand and two weenies, hundred thousand and ...”
The wiener stuffer fills the tubular collagen casings with hot dog sludge. Since you asked, the ooze typically comprises mechanically separated chicken, pork, beef, water, wheat gluten, salt, sodium phosphate, spice, dextrose, corn syrup solids, sodium erythorbate, garlic powder, onion powder, sodium nitrite and smoke.
If you need to ask what mechanically separated chicken is, don’t.
Or go eat a veggie burger.
Once the dogs have been divided and smoked and solidified, the wiener peeler removes the casings.
The stuffer and peeler look like hazmat officials or Apollo astronauts.
They wear blue rubber and plastic head to toe, with hairnet, hardhats and mask. Plus earmuffs. Yes. All those dogs barking.
The hirings, says Smith, are to gear up for summer, when 60% of wieners are sold.
What a great job, eh?
I assume you get to take home any bent, twisted or otherwise defective wieners.
And you’d be in the pantheon of careers with chicken sexer, pet food tester, bounty hunter, odor reader, fortune cookie writer, golf ball diver and newspaper hack.
Plus, you’re wrapped in a soft, warm union. The Brotherhood of Bun Fillers (BBF), or whatever it’s called.
I can picture the negotiations:
“We want a raise, a longer lunch, three weeks holiday, dental coverage and pension improvements.
“But hold the mustard.”
I have nothing of exportance to say.
I am gone for the night. Yes, it's early but I've been too short of sleep for too long and need to crash.
Good night.
Finally got off work. So glad I spent my birthday driving the ship in circles without showers or sleep. But whatever.
Apparently I get up at 6 again to work tomorrow. I don’t know why I thought this job was a good idea.
Cars, no
Computers, no
Stock market, no
Course, no (As in boat and planes)
Course, no (As in sudden need of knowledge) Can be exciting a times.
Tree, funny (George of Jungle)
Bar, yes ( lets you out of a burning build) note burning building bad.
Bar, maybe ( There is controversy over this amongst bike riders)
I would stay and think of more examples but I am also tired and must crash.
Good night.
Good morning! You thought this job was a good idea because it has pay. And because you don’t have to share a bathroom with Tom and Vlad anymore. And because all your other jobs will seem easier after this.
Cold this morning, but the sun is out. Ash will be much happier. She hates rain. Maybe we’ll get back to yardwork later.
I should be Ninja Cat this morning. Instead I am in meetings.
I should be Ninja Cat this morning. Instead I am in meetings.
Sorry about that. I have to go change a diaper now.
Hello. We have a 2 year old it bull neutered male dog today. Brought him home yesterday. He is a shelter dog. He is a sweetie so far. Fred is the name.
The other cat, Tristan, is acting spooked because he is now the only cat.
The Lovebird is shrieking like a banshee, she now has only one cat to yell and does not like it.
If I dissapear next week, don’t freak out.
And that’s all I can say about that.
Okay, I will not freak out. PLEASE email your grandmother and tell her you got the box she sent. She’s getting like unto never speaking to me again.
USAA says your claim with the Chinese person is totally settled now. I’ll send your tax refund to your savings account.
I hope you and the new dog will be very happy. James has a stuffed alligator named Fred; it’s a good name for a pet.
I just did. I hadn’t opened the box yet. I meant to wait until my birthday, only I forgot it was my birthday until the day after it was already over, so I ended up opening it last night after I posted here at ten at night.
Whew. Thank you very much. What was in it?
Bill was on the computer last night. The old one from the schoolroom is in the shop for something. I was watching a somewhat goofy fantasy movie with Tom, “The Color of Magic.” It had Sean Astin in it, and Christopher Lee playing Death, and interesting steampunk accessories.
The war against the silicon bugs continues:
The fleet fled the system under orders, the silicon bug presence was overwhelming.
Delta Sigma had struck the jackpot.
Bradamante shook from impacts on her forward shields.
“What are your plans?” Eva looked at him from her station.
“Get us out of here, that’s what!” Sparks was rapidly clicking targets for the turreted weapons to tag.
Sigma looked the star system over, smiled, and then activated a button on his chair.
“What are you do-” Eva and Sparks didn’t get to finish their sentences, they found themselves on the command deck of Ark Royal as the ultracarrier began to spool up for the out system jump.
Sparks ran to the viewscreen and slewed the view around towards Bradamante.
Gamma Epsilon, Commander of Ark Royal, was still in shock that the entire crew of Bradamante had appeared aboard his vessel.
“What happened?” he asked, he looked at the screen as Eva began to repeatedly shout “No”
Bradamante, twinkling in the fierce light of the silicon bugs homeworld star was surrounded by enemy vessels as she began a charge straight towards the star.
“Track that course!” Gamma ordered.
“N.Space engaged !” the computer chimed in.
“What?! NO!” the viewscreen showed the filamentous waves of n-space travel stretching off behind them.
Delta Sigma was humming to himself, he had music playing on the PA systems, and he’d plotted a course directly towards the inner corona of the star.
“Do you know the radiation exposure you will experience in the corona of this star?” the computer asked.
“No, and don’t tell me either.” Sigma ordered.
The enemy fleet had taken the bait, they were focused on Bradamante and ignored the rest of the fleet.
“Standard drives at 110%, velocity increasing. I don’t like this.” the computer was worried.
“You’ll be fine.”
Bradamante slung into a close orbit of the enemy sun, the train of enemy ships following close behind.
Sigma rotated a dial on Sparks control station, closed his eyes, and then clicked the fire button for the teleFRAG.
Ark Royal dropped out of n-space at the edge of the rally point.
“Set course back to that system!” Gamma was immediately informed by the computer that course data had been erased.
Joan of Ark came alongside and hailed them.
“Bradamante is still in system! Something erased our course data, what’s going on?”
“Them too?” Gamma looked over at Sparks and Eva.
“We are receiving telemetry from in system probes, course data masked, and Oh my GOD!”
Energy readings in system jumped out of normal measurement scales and rapidly rose.
“Reading one Foe of energy output from that systems star.”
Fifty one ergs of energy coming from a star denoted it had gone supernova.
“Reading incoming n-space traveler.” the fleet readied for a second clash with the silicon bugs.
The n-space ‘bubble’ burst open with a halo of gas, color, an electromagnetic shriek, a ship tumbled out of the center of the bubble sparkling like a spinning diamond.
Bradamante, her shields sparkling with artificial aurora, drifted past the startled fleet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYTt0-LpLbE
Scene music
Where everyone go?
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