Tuesday, November 09, 2004
But We Like Their Vanilla!
Like a living M.C. Escher drawing, you could see the chaos engulfing you in ever-enlarging circles. The phones have been hacked and hijacked, now carrying tagalonian gossip to places that used to be American colonies. The computers are going haywire. Whinny secretaries are complaining about imaginary printer squeaks. Your favorite sports teams suck. Your old favorite musicians are old and no longer producing anything listenable. Nobody likes your new favorite musicians, leaving you in a strange metaphysical state, like ABC's Lost if the Iraqi and the dog were the only characters on the island. This is a true story and only matched in tragedy by Monz' lunch prospect of a McCormick-not-Manwich (tm) sloppy joe. But unlike the rest of the world, which simply has a nervous breakdown at such prospects, Monz makes it edible, palatable even!
Like a living M.C. Escher drawing, you could see the chaos engulfing you in ever-enlarging circles. The phones have been hacked and hijacked, now carrying tagalonian gossip to places that used to be American colonies. The computers are going haywire. Whinny secretaries are complaining about imaginary printer squeaks. Your favorite sports teams suck. Your old favorite musicians are old and no longer producing anything listenable. Nobody likes your new favorite musicians, leaving you in a strange metaphysical state, like ABC's Lost if the Iraqi and the dog were the only characters on the island. This is a true story and only matched in tragedy by Monz' lunch prospect of a McCormick-not-Manwich (tm) sloppy joe. But unlike the rest of the world, which simply has a nervous breakdown at such prospects, Monz makes it edible, palatable even!
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