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Ungrateful Bastards
Acerbia is pretty popular with people looking for painless suicide methods or advice. I could joke that reading the archives can lead you to a euphoric stupor that facilitates popping off, or that there are hidden messages in the monthly archives that you have to read vertically in a double-spaced text editor, or it could just be that I once wrote about the last thing I ever played on a piano being "Suicide is Painless" and Google indexed me for it.
All in all it’s pretty thankless being one of the top results for painless suicide and this post isn't going to improve upon that situation. It does remind me of the other futile jobs I've held though.
When I was just starting out and my agent hadn't yet got me the gig writing Acerbia on a regular basis I was the desk clerk at the Hotel California, such a lovely place. We had mirrors on the ceilings and pink champagne on ice, but the wine cellar wasn't as well stocked as it could have been. The real frustration for me was always when I had to tell people that they were free to check out anytime but they could never leave.
That ranks a big second though to the really thankless job I had a few years later as ferry ticket salesman on the bank of the Rubicon, boy those were some pissed off passengers who had bought return tickets, I tell you.
Aug. 4.2006