Today I hit a car. I knew I was going to do it, to hit another vehicle, from a day-dreamingyetstrangelysimmeringwithanger moment as I was driving towards the lights on Maple and Dexter. Just a feeling. I didn’t hit anyone at precisely that moment, though. In fact, it was nearly eight hours later that I hit the actual physical car.
Today’s been like that. I’d been out filming a lecture by a Jewish lesbian from Cuba—one of Ann Arbor’s defining moments, perhaps—and had hauled my sorry ass (or dejected pack mule, if you prefer) back to the parking structure. There, some cunt had parked their pointless four wheel drive so close to me that I was compelled to thwack my door against his/hers a few times. Then I reversed out and started to turn and, yeah, I scraped my fender along his/hers/its.
Of course, I stopped and checked for damage. My car wasn’t, so that was okay. Now I can concentrate on matters of great moment and import. Matters like why there are so many two-faced back-stabbing bags of shit in the world and why I can’t get a gold medal on Project Gotham Racing 3. These are tough questions and I don’t really have any answers right now. Okay, I have one.
Sock puppets. Sock puppets are the answer. Yes. I’m thinking of naming my first sock puppet Mardi Grease Burger and I’m going to make it wear a hair shirt and have a special tube that makes it drool from the side of its mouth. But even before that Hendersonesque moment, I need to figure why Apple’s Compressor 2 software is a piece of soul-sucking crap and then practise PGR3 some more.
Once that’s achieved I can ask for a second opinion. Which reminds me of a joke. A man goes to the doctor. He says, “Doctor, I’ve got this terrible pain. I think it might be caused by the stress of sitting too close to a television screen.” The doctor says, “No, it’s not that. I used to be in charge of terminal dullness and I can categorically say it’s because you’re terminally dull.” The man says, “Hey, that’s outrageous! I demand a second opinion!” The doctor says, “Alright. You’re ugly as well.”
I thenkyew.
Bloke goes to a dentist and says: “I keep thinking I’m a moth.”
The dentist says: “That’s awful, but why have you come to me? I’m a dentist.”
And the bloke says: “Your light was on.”
Yuk, yuk and, indeed, yuk
Jeremy “Currently going for my third gold in the difficult stage of PGR” Austin