So…what was your job, again?

For the past couple of weeks, there’s been a strange character standing by the side of the Cherry Creek bike path, on the north side of Colfax where the path splits.  He’s there in the morning when I ride to work, but not in the afternoon when I return.  He holds a sign that reads, “I [heart] my job”, and has a dark briefcase on the ground nearby.

Of course, the average passerby-on-bike (me) does not have enough time, in passing, for more than a brief “Good morning”–“‘Morning.” So whether this man’s job consists in anything other than said standing-with-sign, I have no idea.  “I [heart] my job.”  If holding that sign is his job, isn’t that a bit of a Hofstadterian riddle?  I would say Gödelian, except there doesn’t seem to be anything paradoxical about the content of the sign–it doesn’t create an inconsistency or incompleteness.

Now, if the man’s job were to hold a sign that read “I have no job”,…


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