September 6th, 2005


If you don't have a sense of humor, it just isn't funny

Walked from my hotel to a nearby restaurant for a quick, light dinner on the principle that anyone who's been up as long as I have has no business driving. It was something with Bennigan's in its DNA, which served acceptable cheesesteaks, in the sense that most of the country not within rioting distance of Philly understands the term. There were five or six people behind the counter when I walked in as the only customer.

Overflowing as I always am with bons mots, I say to the somethingteen brunette behind the counter, "Guess I'm a little ahead of the dinner rush."

She gives me the blank-eyed look that assures me that as I already have one foot in the grave due to advanced age (ie, over 20), whatever those so-called sounds coming from my flapping lips are just ripples in the pond of her enlightment, and says, "Doesn't look like it."

Ah well. I was cool once, for about twelve minutes.

Dreaming of the apocalypse

Dozing on the plane from DFW-OMA, I dreamt of scarlettina as a post-apocalyptic princess of one of the surviving technology clans. She was being married off to a prince of another clan -- think Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome meets Baz Lurhman's Romeo and Juliet. I was the consigliere in charge of negotiating the final deal. The problem was scarlettina's clan controlled a distributed communications system employing remnants of the satellite network which incompatible with her soon-to-be-bridegroom's copper-based messaging system. It was a tricky problem, uniting the crowns.