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Hi, Iluvnycity—
You know, this site is beginning to kill me. Everybody with a half a semester from Norwalk Community College to PhD's from Yale is equalized as having a good heart and being down-to-earth. You, I'm afraid don't appear any more down-to-earth than [edit; substitute] a raging peacock does guarding the Pharaoh's wall. I mean you seem splendid: intelligent, fashionable, beautiful, etc., but down-to-earth, that's like a park bench that's been painted over the same color green a few times over twenty years. Down-to-earth, isn't that like an egg sandwich for $1.99 or $2.49 with cheese? Nobody in the upper echelon of academia and certainly working for a New York law firm can claim to be down-to-earth any more, any more than I can claim to be a humble peasant myself working for a few shillings in the peat. All this droning, overweening palaver is really beginning to make me nuts, loopy. Have you seen the take-out of Sacha Baron Cohen as Borat in the supermarket being shown the endless aisle of butters and cheeses repeatedly by the store manager, the multitudes of brands, styles, and varieties ad nauseum? "And what this?" he asks, dropping the copula as usual. "This," says the manager, who's got the patience of the Wedding Guest (but nobody knows what this is anymore because nobody is really educated anymore; they've got degrees, but they're ill-read: hence, not educated; trained, yes; educated, not) "is cheese." I'm afraid everything here just looks like cheese to me. And for all the talk about wanting "interesting" conversation, playfulness, and surprises, the first moment there is a mere hint of the real thing, you know, a thinking active playful inventive funny sardonic provocative mind, the screen door slams, the bolt flies in the lock, the mute button is pushed, the profile is deleted, the head turns away.
Egbert
# 25
