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Okay, this is Simon, Ainsley’s company cuss. I’m playing post pirate and taking over for few days while Ainsley takes care of some emergency family business back East, while also guest editing for a week, starting tomorrow. My posts will be shorter and injected with banana-creme filling. Forgive me.

Testing, testing. [Cough.]


We work from home. To many this seems isolated and monotonous, free from the possibility of interacting with others. But for us, it reduces the hazards of working in an office. We can play Irma Thomas at an ear-erupting volume, we don’t have to worry about unwelcome distractions, and there’s no commute.

I’ve worked many jobs, from dishwasher to “Clay Room Play Guide” to screenwriter, and most had hairy commutes that required a fistful of coffee, a coat, and a lil’ bit of hustle. A fair number were also made on my bicycle, an unnaturally beautiful steel creature that often seduced me into dangerous traffic situations with preoccupied or vengeful drivers. Many times I’d be hugging the shoulder of the road, brow beading sweat and knuckles ivory, feeling the whisper of passing sedans and wondering if I was going to collect my paycheck before I checked out. Like parents, many drivers just don’t understand.

Exhaust and pipes.

Cyclist Jeff Frings of Milwaukee, aided by a couple of tiny cameras, is battling this ignorance. Watch his five-and-a-half minute ascent to local-news stardom.

Now weep for the plight of the cyclist.

Work from home.

– SG

[thanks, Mr. Dillon, for the link]

Hire us to push your  home keys.



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