substitute

People stop me on the street on an almost daily basis and you know what they say?

Well, mostly they say, Get out of the street, moron! But when Im actually on the sidewalk, theyll stop me and ask me why a talented, handsome, witty, handsome guy (they say handsome twice, or so I imagine) like me, doesnt have a good job. I usually pause for a second and try and decide which of my theories to espouse.

I can go with Theory A, which is, to carefully explain to them that my humor and talents cannot be constrained by the man. That I dont fit into any cookie cutter corporate culture and that if I tried to shoehorn my talents into what is acceptable for most major corporations, Id be just another bland, boring chucklehead. Id be a suit and then Id have to kill myself.

Or, I can go with Theory B, which isnt really a theory, its rather more of a procedure, whereby I throw myself into a bear hug and crywell, wail, actuallyon their shoulder, which normally gets me some sympathy before I inevitably start to hump their leg and at that point I either get slapped or kneed in the groin.