Massage/Message

So,

like,

yeah,

so don’t tell my boss, but I’ve spent much of my morning dealing with personal paperwork, like 401(k) stuff, and Flex Reimbursement, and making out a check to the mortgage company, and childcare, and looking up the name of Marshall McLuhan’s great tome to make sure my copy at home is really the *right* copy, because mine says ‘The Medium is the Massage’, and it’s not a massage, not oil and gentle rubbing and dim lights and New Age music that makes one weepy, but more like MASS-age, because MASS communication is where it’s at, baby, we’re in an AGE of it, even though every talking head refers to the book as MESSAGE, like we’re living in an AGE of MESS, which we are, but that’s a completely different thing.

We’re interviewing a new guy today. A programmer.

He’s built like a Big Mac (the burger, not the bridge), but he has a lovely smile and he’s young and hopefully very bright.

Still.

I’d rather he look like a hockey player.

I may actually get political on Sergei's other blog today. Imagine...ME! Political! The Political is the Message! Or MASS-age. Without the oil and the good feelings. Strike that...MESS-AGE actually works.