Love my woman, love my baby, love my biscuits sopped in gravy.

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

Why Nerdbilly?

Part Nerd, part Hillbilly. The Nerdbilly.

I was born in West Virginia, and moved to California almost twenty years ago. Like the Skynyrd song and many others say, "You can take the boy out of Dixie Land, but you can't take old Dixie from the boy." It's true enough. Everything is seen through the eyes of a guy who as a kid pitched hay, milked cows, shot squirrels and fried them up for supper, and learned one of the best ways to relax after a long day is to sit in the shade of a hickory tree fine tuning whittling skills with a sharp pocket knife. Hillbilly.

Now though, I live on the sunny California coast, and have spent years working for big companies doing technical work. Nerd.

I vividly remember one wet summer day sitting on an old, wooden milk crate with my head buried deep in a cows flank to keep her from knocking over the milk bucket, working to pump the bucket full, and looking out the barn door at the mud, fog and rain outside and thinking how nice it would be to have an office job where you could wear a white shirt with no fear of getting it dirty. I could picture myself at a clean desk pushing papers, and as lame as it may sound, I liked the idea of being able to decide when I would get my hands dirty. Hillbilly.

Twenty years later, I spend at least eight hours a day pushing buttons. Other than flying to and from work and owning a robot maid, I'm a lot like George Jetson. A hard day at work for George would be when he had to push the button twice, so he's still got it significantly better than I do, but really, I'm closer to George than not. Nerd.



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4:58 PM, May 17, 2004  

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