Monday, May 3, 2010

KILL ME

I live in a soft, nigh-effeminate world of indie-rock opinions and being able to describe a room as looking very Jil Sander...sorry! I do forget, though, that most of the world has zero time for my fey knowledges. (?)

Case in point:

I just listened to copy machine/network dudes talk non-stop for an hour. One was a grown man having a chew and spitting into an empty Nestea bottle.
Topics commenced with trucks, and shocks thereon. Then:

Gas mileage.

Weights of oils for lawnmowers.

Those "green" jobs..."I don't want to offend anyone here, but..." It's a market of supply and demand and nobody wants to drive some funny-looking plastic car. Right??
(and here's where things really took flight:)

Spitter's son's umpiring.

Spitter's younger son's sports career, where he is discriminated against for only being 5'6". Anyone can see he's the best athlete out there. He's got a .900 on-base percentage.

Other dude understood, he only weighed 120 in school. But he "was the best athlete out there and you could see it. But if they're not going to play me, why should I stick it out?" [no "i" in TEAM XEROX, either, brah)

"Baseball's a game of skill..."

Anyway, Spitter ended up paying 500 bucks so his son could play for some Nazarenes or suchlike.

I can fully understand, after listening to these manly-ass concerns for sixty-five ticks, why the likes of me should be marginalized.

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