THE GREAT GADFLY:

God Is In The Crisper

I have an easier time believing God would have a refrigerator than in believing my snapshot would be included on said appliance. I mean, for starters, I know for a fact that of those photographs I currently have displayed on my refrigerator, none of those depicted have pictures of me on ANY of their appliances (with the exception of Minnie Pearl, who is dead). Of course, I don't really send people pictures, so it's probably my own damn fault (and I'm sure there's some philosophical/spiritual metaphor in there somewhere, but it's 8:30 a.m. and I'm feeling logy, so you'll pardon me if I don't wrap up this folksy meditation in a big oaty bow).

Later on my ride to work, it occurred to me that I'm not made of the stuff to thrive in the here and now. I'm not 2003 material. Then I started to feel skanky and old, like time had finally escaped me and I'd lost my ability to evolve with the times. Then I realized, no, that this feeling was more akin to feeling like an awkward, alienated geek in high school than, say, Henry Fonda getting all disoriented in the blackberry patch. Then I started thinking about how what we've come to know as "post-modernism" is no longer "post-" but simply "modernism", and that it's high time we refreshed our sensibilities as to what's five-minutes-from-now...not so much in a jet-pak and pet-robot kind of way, but just in terms of...of...well, of WHAT, I don't know. I just know I wound up feeling less like an old crank and more like a not-quite-middle-aged crank. Whee!

I don't know about you, but I need a big, piping hot mug of Laura San Giacomo.