It’s a secret, a deep-held shame that I hide from myself as much as from other people. It often takes refuge between the rant-laced lines of Armchair Blasphemy. But I can no longer conceal it or wave it away—I must at last face it and admit to you the reader my deepest shame: I harbor deep jealousy of religious clothing, most especially robes.
It has nothing to do with belief or unbelief; it’s just about comfort. I am what is often known in American parlance as a “fat slob.” I can’t buy shit off the rack, because even though I am nearly six feet tall, I have only a thirty-inch inseam, and I’m shaped like a stunted pear. Continue reading My Robes of Shame
My old phone broke a few weeks ago. It was a flip phone, which I had specifically sought out so I could keep it easily in my pocket without accidentally dialing anyone and some other logical reasons I’d worked out, but now forget. It had been going for a couple of months. The hinge had a crack and gave an ominous whine every time it was opened. In its normal state, the phone was built to withstand heavy-duty impacts and had survived countless gravity-induced collisions—until it didn’t.
So, a new phone was needed. I walked into my provider’s store, with the single goal of getting a similar phone. I walked out, almost 90 minutes later, with a smartphone. I’m still not certain how I got sucked into the time-space-vortex where Troy (the salesman) was able to push a smartphone into my hands, but there it was, new and shiny and all excited to belong to me. Continue reading Too Connected? Too Bad!
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