Day after day. Same old thing. Make a new sky. It’s gotta be marvelous! It’s gotta be unique! Blah, blah, blah! Who do they think I am? A miracle worker? Like I’ve got nothing better to do? Heal the lame. Make wine out of water. Fill 12 billion, zillion square feet of sky with unique and wondrous sights. Sure, no problem. I’ve got all the time in the world. Wait. What’s that you say? Every day???  Who do you think you’re kidding, anyway?

I got nothin. Zip. Nada. I’m done. Find somebody else to do it! You can’t fire me, I quit!

Oh for Pete’s sake. Quit your whining! Here… one stimulustreakus cloud. That should hold you over ’til tomorrow.

No?!! Good grief. All right, how ’bout four cumulusmaximus with a couple streakustotherightus for good measure? Hurry up and take a picture. I’m kind of busy here.

Picky. Picky. Picky.  You’re killin’ me! Nothing makes you happy. You know what, I’m throwing the kitchen sink at it. Here!!

Good night! And heh, don’t call me. I’ll call you!