Context is for the weak
If you can, if you’re interested in understanding what’s going on with our economy (and I mean, really understand it), listen to This American Life’s podcasts, 355: “The Giant Pool of Money” and 365: “Another Frightening Show About the Economy.” I completely understand why Wall Street is freaking out and why the Bail-Out will ultimately back-fire. Oh, and whatever we do, in the future, trust people to do the right thing. Yeah, because that always works.
We’re all in this together, whether you like it or not. That means you can’t always do what you want no matter how much you want to do it.
Speaking of which, where I drive, Insanity rules the roads. As I returned to the office with my curry chicken lunch cooling in the passenger seat, I came to a complete stop well back from my left-turn drive. A white-trash, soccer mom minivan sat in the middle of the drive. On a bike, no less, a man who looked like he just stepped out of Tony Soprano’s house ground his breaks to a halt before ending up in front of the elephant minivan.
There we all waited the three of us. The van’s driver, trusting I wasn’t going to move (though I swear I saw sparks shoot out her ears while she was making up her mind), turned left out of the driveway. The biker waited until I waved out the window that it was safe for him to cross the road as well. He waved back and I noticed he had a cigarette pinched in the corner of his mouth.
Dude. You so get to go. You’re smoking and riding a bike. That’s just … I don’t know what that is, but it made me happy.
Yesterday, I took full advantage of my Above & Beyond award for my ready actions during the Tropical Storm Fey crisis (i.e., I didn’t put a date deadline on the outage phone message which worked out well because we were out longer than expected) and took my half-day off of work. Finally, the house to myself! Of course, right around two, the doorbell rang. I was playing World of Warcraft in my underwear, like you do. After tearing around to find a robe, I opened my front door to find a political solicitor.
“Oh, I caught you at a bad time.”
“Yes, yes, you did. This is a very bad time.” My WoW character had just saved the princess (of course, save the princess. Why aren’t there any handsome princes that need saving, huh? Huh? Why not?) and still in enemy territory. As I stood there and listened to her drone on and on about her candidate of choice, all I could think about was my character’s corpse lying on the tainted, mossy ground.
“So, we can count on your support.”
“No.”
“No? May I ask why?”
Why? Did this conversation not start with the sentence, “I caught you at a bad time”? That was a clue for you to drop your paperwork and move on! No, no, you had to love the sound of your own voice and killed my shaman after she saved the princess. You’re evil! Pure evil!
“No, you may not. Have a good day!”
Wake me up when November ends.
We’re all in this together, whether you like it or not. That means you can’t always do what you want no matter how much you want to do it.
Speaking of which, where I drive, Insanity rules the roads. As I returned to the office with my curry chicken lunch cooling in the passenger seat, I came to a complete stop well back from my left-turn drive. A white-trash, soccer mom minivan sat in the middle of the drive. On a bike, no less, a man who looked like he just stepped out of Tony Soprano’s house ground his breaks to a halt before ending up in front of the elephant minivan.
There we all waited the three of us. The van’s driver, trusting I wasn’t going to move (though I swear I saw sparks shoot out her ears while she was making up her mind), turned left out of the driveway. The biker waited until I waved out the window that it was safe for him to cross the road as well. He waved back and I noticed he had a cigarette pinched in the corner of his mouth.
Dude. You so get to go. You’re smoking and riding a bike. That’s just … I don’t know what that is, but it made me happy.
Yesterday, I took full advantage of my Above & Beyond award for my ready actions during the Tropical Storm Fey crisis (i.e., I didn’t put a date deadline on the outage phone message which worked out well because we were out longer than expected) and took my half-day off of work. Finally, the house to myself! Of course, right around two, the doorbell rang. I was playing World of Warcraft in my underwear, like you do. After tearing around to find a robe, I opened my front door to find a political solicitor.
“Oh, I caught you at a bad time.”
“Yes, yes, you did. This is a very bad time.” My WoW character had just saved the princess (of course, save the princess. Why aren’t there any handsome princes that need saving, huh? Huh? Why not?) and still in enemy territory. As I stood there and listened to her drone on and on about her candidate of choice, all I could think about was my character’s corpse lying on the tainted, mossy ground.
“So, we can count on your support.”
“No.”
“No? May I ask why?”
Why? Did this conversation not start with the sentence, “I caught you at a bad time”? That was a clue for you to drop your paperwork and move on! No, no, you had to love the sound of your own voice and killed my shaman after she saved the princess. You’re evil! Pure evil!
“No, you may not. Have a good day!”
Wake me up when November ends.