Friday, February 28, 2003

Another dawn breaks clear and

Another dawn breaks clear and maybe just a little earlier, and I am clear and early too.  Today I staff a meeting of the Legal Services Trust Fund Commission, which means I don’t have to read files, I don’t have to call people up and aggravate them, and I don’t have to bring my lunch.  All this is only made sweeter by my ability to drive to work instead of bussing it in, and the anticipation of leaving just a little early so I can relieve the dog, medicate the cat, and still make it to Happy Hour, which promises to be an unusually festive occasion. 

Why the recitiation?  Because I’ll be away from my desk for so much of today that I won’t be able to graze the meadows of blogdom as is my wont.  But it’ll be OK.  I have so declared it. 

My ability to declare everything OK puts me in mind of the many people, both hither and yon, who are taking classes or are, heaven forbid, actually in school full-time.  Even those planning on further education are on my mind.  Not because I wish to join their ranks - as of right now, the idea of sitting in a lecture just isn’t toasting my crumpets.  However, I do think that I’d be one hell of a lecturer.  I enjoy being kissed up to and having unfettered discretion to ruin people’s lives.  Furthermore, I have a pedagogic mien, a voice that demands respect and attention, and illegible handwriting.  As I understand it, these are the three main areas of study at teachers’ colleges worldwide.  Having rendered their curriculum superfluous, it only remains to choose a course that I should teach.  Luckily, I have a wealth of useful knowledge to expound and disseminate: 
* Other Uses for Your Plunger
* Making a Mess of Everything
* How to be Late
* Repressing Yourself
* What’s That Smell? (prerequisite for “Has This Gone Bad?")
* The Exploding Ego and the Withered Id
* Spacing Out (advanced)
* Ingratiating Yourself (prerequisite: Shmoozing)
* Sugary Snacks: An Overview
* Things You Can Do with Toothpicks and Pipecleaners
* Practical Self-Abuse
* The Underware Drawer: Mysteries Revealed
* Getting Out of Stuff
* Gluing Your Fingers Together
* Favorite Bulges of Western Civilization
* Introductory Poking
* Wander Aimlessly - Today!
* Living Comfortably on $30,000 a Day
* Gibberish
* Pizza Delivery Explained
* Towelling Off
* How to Lose Your Keys
* Spicing Up Your Fantasy Life

Registration begins immediately.  Bribes are cheerfully accepted, but I promise nothing.  Lots of nothing.  See you all again soon.

Thursday, February 27, 2003

I know you’re all wondering

I know you’re all wondering how the bargaining and mediation went yesterday.  It went poorly.  We’ve done yeoman’s work, all of us, and it’s been thrown back in our faces with such disdain that it’s hard to stay positive about what we’ve accomplished.  Which, on behalf of the workforce here, is basically squat.  Every time we ask to go into caucus, management seems to think it means we want it in the back door.  (Pause for rim shot.  On the drums.) At one point, the management negotiator (who’d just reaffirmed that their offer was nothing at all for three years, and all the sand we can pound) started intimating that some of the ancillary technical issues we’d already tentatively agreed on might not be in their “last, best, final” offer.  The matronly and commanding mediator fixed him with a steely gaze and warned him, “I hope you’re not planning on pissing backwards.” He grinned and shook his head.  I gritted my teeth.  We may have to go on strike.  At least I got some nice trips to LA and a free frequent flyer’s ticket on Southwest, the airline that used to have a sense of humor before they realized they were industry leaders. 

My computer’s internet connection shuts down in five minutes.  I declare my workday done.  Time for a beer.

I’ve been unable to get

I’ve been unable to get independent confirmation, but if Bob Edwards says it, I believe it.  And what he said this morning had all the makings of a medical blockbuster.  One of the cute little stories they do on the half hour on Morning Edition concerned a woman who actually gave birth in the “Easy Pass” lane of an underground thoroughfare in New York.  Let’s put aside, for the moment, the monsterous Freudian implications of subterrenean birth, or birth in a car, or birth at all… my attention was first drawn to the happy coincidence of “Easy Pass” for the natal process.  Imagine if she’d been in the “breech lane” or the “erythroblastosis fetalis” lane or the “like hell I’m going out there” lane.  “Easy Pass” sounds like a good choice for all expectant mothers.  And what’s more, even though this mom started out driving by herself when she went underground, by the time she got back above ground she had another passenger in the car and could legally drive in the high occupancy lanes.  This is probably the world’s fastest onset of carpool tunnel syndrome.  Thank you very much.