With the recent hubbub surrounding private space travel, I’ve been trying to brainstorm affordable ways to soar into the furthest reaches of the cold, desolate void. It just doesn’t seem right that the hoi polloi should sit in stark disappointment, resigning themselves to grim contentment as bloodthirsty aliens sweep over the good Earth and devour everything in their wake. Ah, but that’s just another failed screenplay speaking.
What’s really important, gentle reader, is that we take stock of what we do have. We’ve got planes, space shuttles, gumption, a lot of illiteracy. Given all this, I’d say the wisest course of action would be to herd all the illiterate people into space shuttles and send them to the moon. This would free the other people–I’d like to coin the term “Literates” right now–to construct gigantic slingshots that could launch people into the stars for a pittance.
Shit yeah, it’s Friday.
I have a raging headache right now, gentle reader, and it’s an affliction I’m attributing to too much mixing. I don’t believe we’re wired to nod incessantly, furrowing our brows and agreeing fervently with every introduction and conjecture. It’s just not natural. It also doesn’t help when you network in the noisy confines of a populated restaurant.
Is this the dance we will dance until the crows fly home? Who invented this foul practice? The drinks flow quickly, the food is sponsored loudly, and in the end, when your head throbs in painful syncopation with a bumpy subway ride home, you look in your pocket and find a stack of business cards. What do you do with these? eBay, anyone?
Can’t talk now, gentle reader, because the team dynamics are just too tight. I’m attending a “business mixer” to network like a frickin’ bumblebee, so let’s hope hilarity does not ensue at my expense. Maybe I should pick up an attaché case along the way and fill it with business cards and turkey jerky. What do you think?