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Showing posts from July, 2007

Immaturity! That's my forte.

There's a chance that I'm twisting in the wind here, but I honestly think the world would have much, MUCH clearer communication if we all stopped maturing around the age of five.

Think about it.

Let's say someone said something you disagree with. What would you say? Probably some kind of PC crap that you don't even believe yourself. Oh, you might give them a little slack out of some misbegotten notion of compromise, even though they're clearly wrong, but all in all, most of us would be polite. But if you were five years old, you'd probably say, "I hate you. I don't want to talk to you anymore." See? It's beautiful. But oh, no. We have to have our ears bent ad infinitum by some yahoo with a caffeine buzz, a coworker splitting hairs, or some equally hollow blowhard.

Or how about checkout clerks? Bank tellers? Retail guerillas who sneak up on you with the ubiquitous "Can I help you sir?"

That's right. Repeat after me. "I hate you. …

Ah hell, this blog thing is screwin' up

A post. To republish.

Okay, to say something meaningful instead of wasting this opportunity, 'cause who knows when I'll ever get back to it:

Die Hard is the perfect action movie.

Go ahead. Try to knock holes in that. You can't.

So. Mission accomplished. I am a blogging master.