Yeah, well, yesterday we had something else we wanted to post. Back in the day, Wednesdays were more of a promise that a perfect reality. We were quite familiar with the odd Thursday. Why should things be any different now?
Anyhow, continuing the Miracle of the Frankfurters.
We almost didn’t make it this week. The Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression, and rightly so: he lost his job at the hot dog factory. It turns out the reason that more pounds of hot dogs came out the end than herds of assorted mammals went in the front was because the paper that was supposed to be recycled was being added to the frankfurter mix rather than the local landfill operation. It had been the Mite’s job to solve this mystery, and his solution had been to run more reports. Every time he ran a new report, more paper was generated, and more pounds of hot dogs were created, and more reports were generated, and the hot dogs kept tasting less and less like mammal by-products. Finally one of the professional wiener tasters that the company keeps on the premises recognized the flavor as computer paper. And the Mite was out on his keister. And if that wasn’t bad enough, then the stock market had to crash. At least there was some good news in that, because, first of all, the Mite doesn’t own any stock, and second of all, he has hatched what he considers to be a foolproof plan to beat the market in the future. Think about it. Hillary Clinton turned 50, and the market crashed. So the Nostrumite, who knows cause and effect when he sees it, reasons that anyone selling short when Hillary Clinton turns 60 is in for a killing. Eat your heart out, Michael Price.
If anyone at Dean Witter is reading this, keep in mind that the Mite is looking for a job and can be reached through this e-mail address.
“If you were smarter, I’d be funnier.”
That may have been the first time I used that tagline. It’s always been one of my favorites. I don’t know if the prediction that the market would crash on Hillary’s 60th birthday came true. I wouldn’t be surprised.
Anyhow, one last entry, and then Coachean Life will be going on hiatus for a while. All will be explained when I return.
We almost didn’t make it this week. The Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression now that he’s out of work again. Last weekend he went to the mall to do some research, and came back a nervous wreck. Apparently they have a George Washington Barbie Doll at F.A.O. Schwartz for $75 that simply defies analysis, even by the Nostrumite. The thing is, there’s the old Barbaroo, all duded up in the formal attire usually associated with the father of our country, and the Mite can’t figure out why. I mean, has the old Barbaroo dumped Ken and gone on a Presidential kick? If so, why couldn’t she settle for Bill Clinton, like every other woman in America? We’re sure that Bill would have obliged, as he has for every other woman in America. Anyhow, there’s an enormous disconnect here between Mattel and old Dollar-Bill Face, and the Mite has retired to his reading chair with Flexner, unabridged, to try to get to the bottom of this.
We’ll keep you posted.
The GW Barbie is absolutely a reality. If I could make up stuff as good as that, Nostrum would have made JKR and her silly Harry Potter look like a piker and a half.