Good afternoon. On the, business as usual 3:55PM out of the City.
The NFI is one. I am overjoyed that the work week is over and I have a weekend to catch up on more work at home.
Lets start with two people. A large balding, late fifties balding gentleman sat down next to a pretty-faced, gravitationally secure, late thirties woman. They are both armed.
He looks like the grandfather from Willie Wonka (the Gene Wilder movie) but at least two-hundred Wonka Bars heavier. She looks like Rikki Lake just after gastric-bypass, her face and chest have fully deflated but the waist and hips are slow to catch up. It is evident that She is on her way to the gym, and is dedicated to the Program. Which reminds me – my gym bag is in the car at the station. Time to burn off the donuts.
His mustache is impressive, walrus-like in keeping his voice. I :could hear him from eight seats away, telling Rikki about the frustrating day he had. He did not use that turn of phrase, but so far I have refrained from evoking any of Carlin’s “Heavy Seven” in this blog, in hopes of garnering a wider audience.
The train just left the station and there is a large crowd of people here. There is a fellow that looks like Lou Reed, drinking a “tallboy” can of cheap American beer. (I look forward to the day this blogspot gets corporate sponsorship so I can use actual names of beverages and electronic devices in my narrative). The golden can is being genuinely enjoyed by Lou and his friend, who I cannot see but has had to sit across the aisle from him. I do know that both are armed. Happy Friday guys!
I’d be drinking with them, except I am diligently working on losing excess weight in time for my cousin’s wedding. Part of the regimen is no unnecessary calories if avoidable. Wine with dinner is accounted for in my weight loss program. Beer on the train or wine at home is not. Oh well.
Benched War Correspondent is here. In keeping with the Sequester, BWC is being 75% as productive as he could be in a fully budgeted scenario. He pitched an idea to the Editor about a retrospective and a “Post-pullout analysis” of Iraq, but was rendered impotent by the lack of will or funding by the Network. So, now, in keeping with popular punditry, his pieces are strictly about deconstructing rhetoric, skewing facts, and purposely pushing a bigger pointless agenda for his paymaster. The train ride is his personal confessional. I am surprised he doesn’t drink. Perhaps he has a cousin’s wedding for which to prepare?
The Bachelor is here. Blonde, buffed and beautiful, the stud muffin, who is being paid to kiss or heavy pet a harem of twenty single (?), screened for TV bachelorettes to find Mrs. Right. Obviously he can’t be here, as he must now plan his nuptuals with the selected bette.
I have to admit, I’m laughing about the whole concept. I got married ten years ago and many friends asked me “Did you have an arranged marriage?” Many were partially relieved and partly dubious as to the explanation I gave them. Ten years later – actually eight, as both the Bachelor and the Bachelorette went on the air about eight years ago – TV networks have become the parents trying to arrange the mostly rich white kids to agree to an arranged marriage. Irony is fun.
Dr. Jeckyl-Hyde is here. He’s tired from all the talk about Sequestration, gridlock in Congress, the President and his gun-rights agenda, and all the other unresolved issues of the day. He’s reading his iFirebot e-reader device, from which he as downloaded the hot sci-fi thriller from Jeff Salyards called “Scrounge of the Betrayer”, and is wondering about flail technology in the middle ages after being inspired by the plight of the main character. Oh, Dr. J-H is armed.
Also here are Clive Owen, Rand Paul, two refugees of the Egyptian Arab Spring, Yul Brenner, and Justice J.P. Stevens. All are heavily armed.