the other day i was on the phone with my dad, and he was asking me about my job search. i told him that i haven’t really been able to find anything good: most places want people with more experience, more programming knowledge, more education, more not-having-a-criminal-record, and so forth.
“maybe it’s time to lower your standards a bit,” he said.
“hey, do you think i could sell them? my cut-off hands, i mean. like, on the black market? that’d get me some money.”
“you’re not helping.”
“or my spleen! do i need my spleen? i could sell that.”