Mar. 7th, 2007

spatch: (Default)
Well, I didn't buy my Mega Millions ticket in New Jersey or Georgia, so I guess it's no J. Pierpont Spatch for a little while longer. Just as well; my opera cape hasn't come back from the cleaners yet (and judging from the prices they charged up front, I think my cleaners took me to the cleaners.)

If I'd won, I might have had enough money to convince this silly Manhattan community board to deign to allow one teeny sign to be placed underneath an already-existing street sign in order to name 53rd St. and 8th Ave after Jerry Orbach. The community board "...routinely rejects such requests on principle" because they don't want more signs on their... uh, street signs (this is the area that includes Times Square) and sure, not every average Dead Joe should be honored with an intersection...

But Jerry Orbach? Mr. 42nd Street? Billy Flynn? Lennie Briscoe? El Gallo?! For heaven's sake, give him an intersection, folks! If he can't get a stretch of 42nd named after him, the least we can do -- the least we all can do -- is honor him in his own neighborhood.

I'm guessing people who serve on community boards can't get a position denying folks placement in co-ops, but they need to throw a little authority around somehow. If they moved out to the burbs, they'd join the Homeowners Association and deny the newcomer his choice of mailbox.

Ah, we are each afforded a precious modicum of power in some form or another; if we can't gain more, we simply exploit what we've got to the hilt. And I ain't using the royal We here, either. Now if you'll pardon me, I've got some people to demote and kick out of The World Of Warcraft Guild What I Done Created And Lord Over. I got your DKP right here, pal.
spatch: (Milhouse - Ow)
Question: Where's the worst place to get a paper cut?
Question, Qualifier: I mean, above the waist*?

Answer: The little fleshy part between your thumb and index finger. Ow.

Question, Rhetorical: How can something so superficial be such a pain?

Fetch forth the Bactine, Prudence! Or a Band-Aid at the very least.





* Feel free to make your own Chess jokes here about where one receives one's kicks; typing is a bitch for me right now.

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