Get On With It Already

The world's a faster place and complaisance is regarded as sloth. Who sits around contemplating anything anymore when there's so much to be done? Stop and smell the flowers and you're likely to miss a market move although the last time I checked the market was still there and the only thing that had moved was some items at the meat counter where older cuts were brought forward and, oh, I'm sure they're fine. Pretty good anyway, I can take a few cents off.

We're Blackberrying and Bluetoothing and emailing and paging and instant messaging until we're black and blueberry. (INCOMING!) Look, if you have a few extra minutes to think about something like, oh, why intelligence feeds from "Bob's Bargain WM Depot" might not be fully up to scratch or that authors who answer questions with questions like "did I really say that on page 13, ok, maybe that happened" are misfiled under non fiction, you're clearly too focused on one problem while a myriad of other issues are passing you by. Forget about it, seal it up with duct tape and he'll eventually apologize on national TV for his expose of having been the Pope for a year while Bishop Karol finished his detective novel writing.

Everything's fast, everything's in a hurry. We speed date and I don't mean a schnozzful of nose candy to get through appetizer conversation. No, we sit around a room, about twenty of us and make our best first impression in seventeen seconds or less. Sort of like Name That Tune for sex. A bell rings and the lucky participant moves on or not, as the case may be but usually isn't.

Some notable first lines and responses:

"Hi."
"Ring the freaking bell already."

"So, is this your first speed date?"
"Is that a blood stain on your shirt? I think I'd better call the police."

"My name is..."
"I'm a lesbian vegetarian. I think I'm in the wrong room. See you."

Somebody actually gets a date here. I'm sure of it. Otherwise why would perfectly sane people put themselves through all this? Then again, why do we continue to play the lottery? Not that I do, I clean up at three card monte. But somebody dates and gets into a relationship and then the dynamics of that kicks in. Everything here is in a damn hurry too and we're adapting and adopting to speed relationship. Friends I know just celebrated their first anniversary. Yep, they made a week and gave each other the traditional gift of Post It notes. Two weeks; Elmer's School Glue, Three; glass marbles and then the big one: A Month.

Whew. Construction Paper. Everyone should be able to free a substantial portion of their salary for that.

I admit it. I'm on that track myself and while I'm only comparison shopping glue right now, I've looked out a window and what I've seen makes me think that someday I'll be in one of "those" stores with the glass cases and precisely focused lights and the men in suits who unfold little bits of velvet on the case, smooth it out ever so precisely and then hand you a loupe so you can make sure the reusable coaster you're getting is everything she's ever dreamed of.

It's a wonder I'm not more often violently pelted by blueberries (INCOMING!)

Bunny on.