Thursday, March 18, 2004

When I started this company with Muse, gentle reader, I did so with a lofty goal in mind: to create a forum embodying all the virtues that make our deliberative democracy so envied. And you know what? I woke up this morning and said, “Hey! I deliberate–with myself, mainly–and the way I run my company could be considered democratic, so I guess I’ve achieved my goal.”

What we have is a rich community made solid by the bonds of thoughtful discourse, by which I mean griping and arguments founded on pure conjecture. The fine e-mail below only adds credence to the screed of a love note I penned yesterday:

To be sure I will miss the drug deals going on behind my building, or the bums that come knocking on my door asking for money or alcohol, and most of all I will miss not getting packages or food delivered as the good souls at B&A have yet to put our names in the call box despite several attempts to get them to do so.

The only thing I can say to the great employees of B&A is, God bless them. Of course, that’s what southerners say when they really mean: fuck you!

Per company policy I will omit the signature not only for privacy’s sake, but also because the closing language is so saucy. I always try to blunt the kind of language that would make Barney the Purple Dinosaur claw out his eyes, which is why I normally pepper my vulgarities with asterisks. “F*ck you” is par for the course, though “*uck you” and “fuck y*u” will also do in a pinch.

We are not here to discuss naughty language, however, so let’s get down to brass tacks. You note the drug deals unfolding behind your building, and I am jealous. My back lot sees less hash than a corned beef union on strike in New Delhi. Some of the residents from across the street occasionally wander over to pick through our dumpster, but that’s it. Oh, and every October we also have a tree out in front spewing forth fruit that smells of poop and vomit. But where is the human interaction? Where are the herbs?

“Bums…come knocking on my door asking for money or alcohol,” you say, to which there’s a simple fix–just send in your rent on or before the 1st of each month.

As for your callbox problem, let me assure you that having your name displayed will not affect the “mail system.” Magazines and packages are usually left in the lobby for all to partake, and on more than one occasion I’ve had to reorder lost issues. I really appreciate this because it gives me a chance to imagine the incisive opinions I could be reading.

Bottom line? I think you should renew your lease. Heck, I know I’ve grown attached to my place. That’s why I’m staying another 13.25 days.