What I Want to be When I Grow Up

I spent this morning blistering through the news of the past three days from the perspective of the New York Times and the local "paper." Rummy: say your prayers, the Generalissimos are coming to get you! Sudan and Chad: stop it! Play nice. Iran: I'm sorry, but you just aren't scaring us. If nuclear destruction weren't such an awesome and fearful prospect, we might be laughing at you. Actually, check that, we are laughing...well, at least I am. China: buy some of our stuff, too! I mean, it's only fair, don't you think? Immigrants: go home! No, wait, stay here. No, never mind, go home. Well, unless you've already been here long enough to get married, raise a family, and start an Internet-based business. Then, you can stay. If you pay all of your back taxes, take a test (and pass), and promise to support (fill in political party of choice) for the rest of your red, white, and blue days! No, scratch that. Forget it, go home (But could you slaughter a few chickens and clean my house before you leave? Thanks, here's three dollars.).

What I was most intrigued by is the Style section of the Times. While looking at the latest fashions from Milan, New York, Paris, London, and Montauk (Long Island), I realized that I too could be a fashion designer. It seems pretty simple, and involves only the following steps:
1. Obtain scraps of material (easily obtained from the dumpster behind JoAnn's Fabrics).
2. Obtain rail-thin females and androgynous others to use as models (again easily obtained, though not at JoAnn's).
3. Obtain several road-killed, fur-bearing mammals from various streets and avenues.
4. Use the fabric to make the rail-thin females and androgynous others look like total jackasses (and place the road kill upon their heads or shoulders)!

Seriously, is there anything more useless on this earth than a fashion designer? Or perhaps that is an estimation that neglects to take into account the artistic endeavors of the designer? The artist's need and innate (or learned) ability to create, to translate the vision into the reality? The commentary, the political nature of each action that each individual undertakes? The statement made by the newest designers about the state of the human condition using animal, vegetable, and synthetic matters? Nope! I'm afraid fashion designer=useless.

I could go on, but I need to take some clothes out of the dryer.

Oh, by the way, sometimes it hails here (and I'm really good at catching it (in the living room!)).