Looking for work? Tired of those long empty days at the abattoir, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing? Of course you are, but who would hire a tired old relic of 73 with asthmatic bronchitis, two missing fingers and a bad attitude, except for the Paraguayan Navy, where you’re paid in Dwarf Rind Fruit. Good news, pardner---they’re hiring in beautiful Tasmania!
You remember the place….a little island state of Australia encompassing a main island and 1000 little surrounding islets. “Adventurous professionals to fill a wide array of unusual jobs” are in demand there, including that of “wombat walker.” A wombat, of course, is a cuddly little marsupial about three feet long in adulthood which likes to sleep a lot. The job of the wombat walker is to coax the critters to get out of bed and get them moving on their morning walks around the Bicheno wildlife park on Tasmania’s east coast. Sometimes you have to trick the little bastards by sticking some delicious tussocky “snow grass” under their noses or showing them wombat porn on your iPad. Don’t try pouring cold water in their ears, though, they have very sharp, chisel-like front teeth and they know how to use them.
Maybe you’d rather be a truffle snuffler. This gig involves hanging out with trained truffle dogs as they search for black winter truffles among the oak trees. The successful candidate will get to actually taste these delicious delicacies. Or you could take on the task of paranormal investigator, spending nights inside the maximum security ward at Willow Court, one of the oldest asylums in Australia. This job allows its detectives to use the latest in ghost-hunting equipment to document unexplained disturbances.
If none of these occupations kick-start your fancy, there’s always openings for wine whisperers, cave conductors, oyster organizers and sauna stokers. Interested parties should contact the friendly and enlightening Tasmania Department of Tourism, which would love to talk to you. Our operators are standing by. Go ahead, you know you want to.
Opportunities Abound
If Tasmania isn’t your cup of bush tea, there are other options. The world is crying for an odd assortment of talented wannabes. Maybe you’d like a career as a snake-milker, a dog food taster or one of the following:
1. Train Pusher. Must be willing to relocate to Japan. In the early 20th century, New York City conductors were famous for urging subway riders to “step lively” in order to clear space by the doors. The New York Times protested the language, “an overly imperative phrase that flusters the timid and uncertain and angers those who desire to be courteously treated.” The Times suggested “press forward” instead.
In current-day Japan, there’s little truck with subway niceties. Although your job title will be “passenger arrangement staffer,” you will be in reality a Train Pusher, possibly in Tokyo where riders are squashed aboard by white-gloved official crammers called Oshiya. The objective is to fill each car to an average of 220% of designed capacity. We’re not sure what they call the guys who pull squashed riders out and make sure they exhale.
2. Crime Scene Cleaner. You’ve seen them on TV, some working for the cops, others for the crooks. A massive shootout has just occurred, leaving hollowed-out torsos, various body parts and generous portions of blood and human waste all over the dining room. Who ya gonna call to clean up this mess? One program featured a grim, steely-faced septuagenarian grandma, terse of speech, quick to the task, brooking no foolishness. When she was done, the place looked like the women’s bathroom at The Plaza. Applicants must have a high tolerance for bleach.
If you like this idea but would rather work outside, the Department of Transportation can offer you employment as a Roadkill Cleaner. The good news is you don’t have to work in an odiferous closed-in area, the bad news is you may have to fight off carnivores snacking on the remains. David Scales, who plies his trade on the highways of Missouri, has been attacked by vultures and coyotes enraged by his rudeness. “A two-deer day is a rough one, but we get more one-turtle, one possum days. November is easily the worst month of the year. Oh, and tell your rookie employees to buy a sack of Vicks Vaporub to put under their noses. Couldn’t get through the day without Vicks.”
Professional Cuddler
Giggle if you wish, but the job starts at $40 an hour and you’re off your feet the entire shift. A relatively experienced snuggler with a late-night DJ’s voice and no rough edges can zoom up to $80 in no time. Studies have shown that physical touch and intimacy can boost a person’s wellbeing since they lead to the release of oxytocin, a hormone that regulates stress and promotes feelings of wellness. There’s no putting a price on a good shot of oxytocin. The demand for professional cuddlers is rising with the increasing number of lonely widows and widowers. Industry leaders like velvet-voiced Will (the Sandman) Thacker of Oviedo are even taken on exotic vacations by appreciative clients. “You just have to make sure the customers don’t fall in love with you,” says Thacker. “I let mine know I keep snakes in the car.”
Tickle Me, Elmo!
Many of you have remarked on the dreadful shortage of Knismesis centers in town. Unfortunately for the rest of us, humorless parents have ceased encouraging their sons and daughters to enter the knismetic arts, a therapeutic realm which incorporates tickling as a means of promoting relaxation and emotional wellbeing. Knismesis is based on the sensible concept that tickling can release endorphins, which are natural chemicals in the body that induce feelings of pleasure and reduce stress. Knismesis, of course, refers to a light, feather-like version of tickling which generally does not induce laughter and thrashing about, while its sister-science Gargalesis refers to the harder, laughter-inducing tickling most of us know and love. All tickling involves a lot of muscle twitching and even possible weight loss.. A good 10-15 minute bout of gargalesis can burn 40 calories or more when involving highly sensitive areas.
But why does tickling make us laugh, anyway? Knismesis experts tell us that when we’re touched the nerve endings under our top layer of skin (epidermis) send electrical signals to the brain. When we are tickled, the somatosensory cortex picks up the signals dealing with pressure and the anterior cingulated cortex analyses the signals. This part of the brain governs pleasurable feelings. Evolutionary biologists and neuroscientists believe that we laugh when we are tickled because the brain tells us to laugh when we experience a light touch. Laughing when we are tickled in our sensitive spots could be a defense mechanism. Research suggests that we have evolved to send this signal out to show our submission to an aggressor, perhaps to dispel a tense situation and prevent us from getting hurt. Humans are not alone in their reactions to tickling. Gorillas laugh like us when they’re tickled. Rats laugh too, but they giggle at 50kHz, which is out of our audio range.
Among the many advantages of entering the Knismesis trade is an upgrade in status. While clients are wary of visiting the doctor and terrified of dentists, they smile at the thought of seeing their knismeticist. A trip to the lawyer is stressful, a session with your personal trainer tiring, a session with your CPA taxing, but a jolly jaunt over to Knismesis-land just tickles you pink. We implore more community colleges to consider including courses in this valuable medical alternative, to spur a comeback for the long-neglected tickling arts, to eliminate once and for all the mindless arcane suspicions of witchery and wizardry attendant to their practice and to confront the outrages that continue to this day.
Did you know that in the supposedly enlightened state of Virginia you can tickle a man but not a woman? Citizens, if you’ll stand for the likes of this you’ll stand for anything. Set our ticklers FREE!
King Me!
“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.”---William Shakespeare
“Let’s try it for awhile anyway.”---Bill Killeen
Nobody gets to be King any more. Oh, we know, there are pseudo-kings in England and Liechtenstein and Zimbabwe and a couple dozen other places but they are not real kings who can cut off your head, steal your teenage daughter or lead a 20,000 man army to war against Northumberland. Current kings are reduced to cutting grand opening ribbons at the new Walmart, knighting edgy pop singers and discouraging their male children from marrying American movie actresses. You might ask yourself why anyone would want to be King these days. Kim Jong-un is having more fun and he’s only a Supreme Leader.
Remember Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon (604-562 B.C.)? Now there was a king! Big Neb is the granddaddy of all mad kings and his first-person account of a seven-year descent into animal-like insanity is one of the most fascinating sections of the Old Testament book of Daniel. Struck down for his disbelief in the Hebrew God, he left his palace to live in the wild. Nebuchadnezzar’s madness became the framework through which royal insanity was viewed in the Judeo-Christian world.
How about that wild and crazy guy, Caligula? Even wackier than his nephew Nero, this emperor was known for his lavish projects, his sadism and his eccentricity. Caligula once had his army construct a two-mile floating bridge just so he could gallop along it on his horse because that’s what you do when you’re emperor. Tall and hairy, Caligula practiced scary facial contortions to better terrify his subjects. He built a lavish house for his horse Incitatus and attempted to appoint the steed to the high office of consul but was assassinated before he could complete the promotion. Too bad.
Qin Shi Huang rose to power as the first emperor of China in the third century B.C. He had many enemies and avoided several assassination attempts, becoming power-mad and obsessed with gaining immortality. Qin consulted doctors, who prescribed a healthy regimen of sex to maintain his vitality. When that failed, he began taking pills full of mercury. His health and sanity declining, he turned to mysticism. He sent out his greatest adventurers to the “Islands of the Immortals” to find a magic elixir that would allow him to live forever. Fearing evil spirits would overtake him and bring about his demise, Qin had an insanely complex system of tunnels built to connect all of his 200 palaces. Incredibly, he died anyway.
Okay, so maybe it’s not so great to be King. Maybe it’s better to be Joe DiMaggio, instead. He was wed to Marilyn Monroe for a little while, they wrote songs about him and he was never burned at the stake. You could do worse.
That’s all, folks….
