I haven’t got much to report about Sunday’s protest that you haven’t read already. We marched, we sweated, we yelled things in unison and hoped they resonated. I took a lot of photos, and I shook hands with Rob Smigel while his hand was inside Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog. (Note: To clean the page, just click on the LOD banner.)
I also encountered a Republican couple at the base of the Empire State Building. I was marveling at how well dressed and coiffed they were despite the oppressive heat and humidity (how do they do that, anyway?) when the wife surveyed the crowd, wrinkled her nose, and said, “Don’t these people have jobs?” It occurred to me to remind her that it was Sunday when I realized, “Holy shit. I do have a job. And it starts tomorrow.”
And so I went today, and I liked the other new people, and now I’m thinking of the enormity of this new career opportunity, and how much I have to learn in order to perform well, and how important it is that I don’t screw it all up, and how I was so wrapped up in everything else over the weekend that I forgot to submit my timesheets, thus delaying a paycheck for another two weeks. So I’m not my biggest fan right now.
Meanwhile, while Daddy was part of Sunday’s news in his own infinitesimal way, Robert was featured far more prominently on my in-laws’ local newscast—they said his name, and everything—when a camera crew caught him dancing to an oompah band at the German-American Festival. Making this about the millionth time when I’ve wanted to trade places with him.