Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Crap Jobs Make Us Nature F'ers
I'm walking back from the bank a few minutes ago (personal errands for lazy attorneys are my favorite), and there's this dude a few paces in front of me. One of many harmless Century City khaki-bot types I've seen struttin' around Century Park East. Then suddenly, as he's passing one of those trees that grow out of the cement, he reaches over and yanks off a piece of bark. It wasn't, like, hanging and about to drop on its own. He had to struggle with that shit until it cracked. I caught myself cheering him on. Is that wrong?
I'm walking back from the bank a few minutes ago (personal errands for lazy attorneys are my favorite), and there's this dude a few paces in front of me. One of many harmless Century City khaki-bot types I've seen struttin' around Century Park East. Then suddenly, as he's passing one of those trees that grow out of the cement, he reaches over and yanks off a piece of bark. It wasn't, like, hanging and about to drop on its own. He had to struggle with that shit until it cracked. I caught myself cheering him on. Is that wrong?
