Easter Egg Hunt at Memorial Park, 1977

I didn't find a single one. I'm smiling into an empty basket.

I carry that feeling with me to this day, especially if I'm trying to find an airport.

Capturing the Data

Carry On, My Wayward Neanderthal

I try not to follow the news too much, but I keep coming back to the story about the airline employee sent to jail for cussing out a passenger, who had accidentally hit him over the head with a bag but refused to apologize.

Which brings me to cavemen.

Cavemen do not understand the intricacies of capitalism. They do not care if you are the customer. If you hit a caveman over the head with anything softer than granite, he will think one of two things:

1) You are interested in courtship.

2) You need to be removed from the gene pool.

Our ancestors did not pour hundreds of thousands of years of survival instinct into our genes so that some idiot with an entitlement complex could bonk us on the head with a carry-on bag.

Which is why capitalism is evolution in reverse.

On a Roll

On walking into the men's room today, I saw several rolls of toilet paper sitting out. The brand name was "Preference."

It was one of those moments of zen that stops all conscious thought. Then:

Who gets to name toilet paper? Is there a contest? Does the name have to convey dignity? What do these people look like? Are they embarrassed to talk with others about their jobs? "It's true, I'm the one who came up with 'Preference.' That one took all night. Hey could I get another martini over here?"

I know that my job as a medical copyeditor is pretty unique, but I mean, I don't get to name toilet paper.

For a point of reference, I am 14 and in marching band. She is 6 and entering Kindergarten.