Instead, I'm ensconced in the concourse lever of an office building. "Concourse" is a euphemism for the basement - where you get all the fumes from the parking garage. Sitting in a large room with a couple dozen other lawyers, some of whom are, if you'll excuse the expression, low-down and high smelling. Sitting in front of a pair of 24 inch HD Monitors over which cascade document after document of absolutely mind-numbing triviality.
In the corner of the dimly-lit, stank room a fat guy, naked to the waist, beats on a drum, endlessly, endlessly - 48 beats per minute.
The attorneys who can't keep up with the beat are ruthlessly ripped away from their desks and kicked out onto the street, to beg for their bread with the homeless.
God, how I love the Law!
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| "If I am captured, I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy." |