Wednesday, December 15, 2004
In a perfect world ...
Sometimes it's nice to daydream about what you would do if you could do whatever you wanted ... besides two chicks at the same time. Some people would be ball players, some writers, others famous celebrities. I would prefer to do almost nothing. Not absolutely nothing, but almost nothing. And I don't mean the way that firemen do almost nothing, but more like this --
I would get paid to be me. I would get to think up stupid spontaneously-combustibly dry jokes that only I think are funny and inflict them on the world. I would have a corner office somewhere with a nice view. The temperature would be very carefully regulated. I would play a lot of dumb online games, like this one. I would figure out how to get sound on this blog. I would take two hour lunches and a nap around three. In the mornings I would fill out paperwork for about 45 minutes. My secretary would be rough on the exterior but with a heart of gold; she's been around the block, but in a good way. My coffee would always be served warm but not hot and with the right amount of milk. The type of milk would vary randomly, half and half one day, skim the next, but never the same for three days in a row. I would put in my own sugar.
We would buy TV spots. One would show stock footage of nuclear bomb tests with the voice-over, "Weapons of mass destruction don't kill people, people kill people." Nothing like some hard-nosed reductio ad absurdum to make the NRA shake in their boots. Or the one I've been sitting on for years -- A man with a neck brace being heckled by another man with, "Hey why don't you break your other neck?" It's too much.
These are the kinds of things you think about after eight hours of contracts.
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I would get paid to be me. I would get to think up stupid spontaneously-combustibly dry jokes that only I think are funny and inflict them on the world. I would have a corner office somewhere with a nice view. The temperature would be very carefully regulated. I would play a lot of dumb online games, like this one. I would figure out how to get sound on this blog. I would take two hour lunches and a nap around three. In the mornings I would fill out paperwork for about 45 minutes. My secretary would be rough on the exterior but with a heart of gold; she's been around the block, but in a good way. My coffee would always be served warm but not hot and with the right amount of milk. The type of milk would vary randomly, half and half one day, skim the next, but never the same for three days in a row. I would put in my own sugar.
We would buy TV spots. One would show stock footage of nuclear bomb tests with the voice-over, "Weapons of mass destruction don't kill people, people kill people." Nothing like some hard-nosed reductio ad absurdum to make the NRA shake in their boots. Or the one I've been sitting on for years -- A man with a neck brace being heckled by another man with, "Hey why don't you break your other neck?" It's too much.
These are the kinds of things you think about after eight hours of contracts.
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