The more I think about it, the more I find favorable comparisons, regarding my being a Pharaoh…

Considering that every bone in my body still aches from a simple garden shed set-up clearly indicates I could use limitless volunteers, to help with future projects like that. Even my corpuscles are throbbing, and they generally tend to be pretty resilient...

I then recalled that pharaohs are often bald. Well, I’m awful close. Like Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments, nobody’s gonna call me Curly anytime soon. A few wayward sprigs just don’t hide the rooftop that much anymore…

Pharaohs are OK with snakes, and I don’t have a big problem with them either. As long as they’re behind glass, or in another country altogether.

Again, using Yul Brynner as my pharaoh role model, the ancient Egyptian rulers were fond of loincloths and elaborate neck dressings. Pretty much my attire at the start of each and every day. My staff sits beside the computer desk here…

Not my staff as in employees. My staff like rod and staff/walking stick/imperial piece of lengthy wood. No pharaoh worth his salt would be caught dead without a staff…

I really thought I had more tangible comparisons, but it is quickly becoming clear that I am stretching it, at the very least.

Regardless, it is the pharaoh’s life for me. So let it be written. So let it be Dan…

Chow for now!!