Shadow Puppet Storyteller

Reading Pure Drivel and The Ease of Messing up a Co.

The night where Steve Martin insight and the ineptitude of my employers coexist. The pleasure of living in So. California is something Steve Martin writes about with ease. Some of the short essays that he's had published in The New Yorker are compiled in a short 1998 book that can be found in your public library. It's titled, Pure Drivel. "A Public Apology" is riotously funny. Interesting synergy to the universe that I'm reading this for the first time the very week that Enron "swindler" Ken Lay dies. The irony of it is the type of instance you can expect to find Mr. Martin picking at.

On the dark side of things, I thought I was going to relive a High School trauma this morning. I once passed out cold during a session of summer school trying to exit an overheated classroom. Something similar was looming at work. I teasingly blamed a co-worker for proclaiming the term "sweatshop" the previous day when he was taking in the rearrangement of our production floor. It was nearly impossible to feel refreshed even with box fans going. I actually had a pleasant drive home with my air conditioning running in my car at 4:45 am. I was trying to bring my core body temperature back down after spending too many hours at work in an unregulated environment. It must have been something that happened to the usually frigid AC in the building. I imagine the late-night security guard like the cartoon villian that pulls the train's brake lever and it tears out of the floor, right into his hand.