What's your contingency plan?

swimsuit model.

 

Who's going to be able to afford the fabric? We're all going to be wearing Hefty bags with holes punched out for our head and arms. Or, like the good ol' Depression days, just wearing a big barrel. Fabric, schmabric.

 

I got out of newspapers last August.
I usually tell my wife, if this side of journalism doesn't work, I'm going to work at a bar, eventually open my own, then do that.

Either that, or just go back to delivering pizzas.

 

We can pool our resources... You sell pot by the west entrance and I'll sell crack by the east entrance. Because people who buy fabric are serious druggies...

 

Dude, it's Montana. Nobody buys crack. It's meth all the way up there.

 

I have to admit, I am looking forward to an Obama administration, given how far my household income is likely to fall over the next four years. Hell of a time to be at the mercy of someone like Dubya and The Penguin.

 

Debating trying law school ... at 43.

 

I have invested through the years in three precious metals – gold, silver ... and lead. All may prove to be useful, if Joe's ill-considered wishes about the next four years prove true.

 

I'm going to make clothes out of Hefty bags.

 

With all the economic impact your fabric store is going to make, the crack trade's gonna SKYROCKET.

I said this in another thread, but if my paper goes kablooie, I'm running away to Seattle and making one final stab at my life in a new town on a new coast. Declare bankruptcy, most likely, then settle into an existence of working at Top Pot, stringing for The Stranger and blowing whatever money I don't spend on an eight-guy-to-three-bedroom Belltown walkup into the Wheel of Fortune machine at Shorty's.

 

Well, I'm already there and my plan is to do as I am already doing: to work for other journalists instead of being a journalist myself. I am a parasite!

 

Dildo model.