For one more day, one more post, I am going to keep up the silly "theme association" I started the other day.
My post on Monday mentioned, in passing, Jean Paul Sartre. Tuesday's post featured a photo of him on Le Petit Bi, a French folding bicycle developed just as Europe was going to war. Yesterday, I wrote about another folding bicycle (actually a sort-of folding bike), the Donkey Bike.
So now I'm going to show a bicycle--or its rider, depending on your point of view--serving as a donkey:
Perhaps he is employed by a certain Presidential candidate. If that's the case, he might not get paid. Worse, he might need to build a wall around himself if he presses said candidate for what's due, or anything else!
When I was a messenger, I might've built such a wall, or protected myself in some other way, when I went to some of the locales I serviced--especially when I knew what was in some of those packages I carried. Let's just say that the contents of some of those packets were, um, plant-based and others were chemical.
In other words, although we were employed by a legitimate courier service, my fellow and messengers and I became, at times, offspring of donkeys and horses, if you know what I mean. I don't think most of us signed on for that. I know I hadn't.
My post on Monday mentioned, in passing, Jean Paul Sartre. Tuesday's post featured a photo of him on Le Petit Bi, a French folding bicycle developed just as Europe was going to war. Yesterday, I wrote about another folding bicycle (actually a sort-of folding bike), the Donkey Bike.
So now I'm going to show a bicycle--or its rider, depending on your point of view--serving as a donkey:
 |
| From Top At World |
Perhaps he is employed by a certain Presidential candidate. If that's the case, he might not get paid. Worse, he might need to build a wall around himself if he presses said candidate for what's due, or anything else!
When I was a messenger, I might've built such a wall, or protected myself in some other way, when I went to some of the locales I serviced--especially when I knew what was in some of those packages I carried. Let's just say that the contents of some of those packets were, um, plant-based and others were chemical.
In other words, although we were employed by a legitimate courier service, my fellow and messengers and I became, at times, offspring of donkeys and horses, if you know what I mean. I don't think most of us signed on for that. I know I hadn't.
