Snail Races

...where even the winners are slow and slimy. It's all a matter of degrees, really. Reality based since 1692.

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Location: Upper Canada

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

in my dreams

I woke up this morning having dreamt about a conversation at work from just over eight years ago. Our youngest had just been born, and a woman with whom I had previously had a pleasant if not interesting acquaintance, asked what we had chosen for a name. When I replied, "Owen Robert", she wrinkled her nose, and said "Isn't that a Jewish name?"

Gob-smack stunned, I don't think at the time I said anything, other than "no".

In my dream, I was the soul of wit, the apotheosis of rejoinder, blistering her bigotry with word and gesture, worthy of Neddie his own self.

Bigoted and stupid, always a winning combination, eh? As Dean Wormer used to say, that's no way to go through life.


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