I once knew this guy named Gerry. He was a pretty good sport, for the most part. He liked to spend good times with good friends, and his list of hobbies looked a lot like yours or mine would: mostly, he was into papier-mâché and talking at the TV.
Especially talking at the TV. Try as he might, Gerry just couldn't keep his mouth closed through an entire episode of The Hogan Family. He would criticize the characters' overly-preppy clothing, he would make fun of their blow-dried hair, and he had a grand old time pointing out continuity errors. Not like a crazy person or anything, just like someone who understood the artifice of TV and had a good time poking gentle fun at it.
One day in the early '90s at Gerry's house, a news story about the L.A. riots came on the TV.
"Why," Rodney King asked, "can't we all just get along?"
"Well," Gerry said, "the surgical techniques are still untested and expensive. But one day, my friend. One day."
Then Ahmed farted and we all had a good laugh.
Poetry policy
