Dream Job

I was thinking yesterday in the vet’s office (oh, and btw:  Nice job with that revolving door, B-Man) that I’m really glad we were able to pay the vet the $119 we owed, and that we also pay our taxes.  No way I’d want to be part of that 47% who don’t pay income tax and who feel they’re entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you name it, as Seamus’s dad put it.  But what I’d really like to do is go a step further and get a job.  Since the last time I posted, everyone’s been talking about the jobless rate, and how the latest figures were bad news for Barack.  You know, I’ve noticed that not everyone likes Barack the way I do.  In Indiana, I saw a rusted-out Ford with a decal that said “Obama” with an “N” in front of it.  No-bama, get it?  So if I could get a job working for, say the Beagle Brigade, or the Beagle Freedom Project, I figure that would help Barry out.  Back when we were on the road — I forget exactly where; I usually sleep through the “blankety-blank welcomes you” signs — I saw this beagle in the front windshield of a parked Fedex truck.  There was no one else in the truck, so I assume he was the driver.  Imagine being your own boss, and always being on the road.  I’ll bet the lucky son-of-a-gun never leaves his truck.  I sure wouldn’t.

I plan to write The Roof Rack Report for this blog (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) as often as I can while we’re on the road.  But if there’s only time for The Roof Rack Report or food, I can tell you right now what it’s gonna be.