23 August 2004
Working for The Man
It's a few minutes before sunrise, I'm threading myself through a slalom of side streets before I drop onto the Northwest Distressway, and a pickup truck is parked by the curb. It is, of course, huge, but not so huge that I have to adjust my path, and as I approach its massive hindquarters I see the license plate: THE MAN.
All these years I've been working for The Man, and now I've moved into The Man's neighborhood? Obviously he knows he is, after all, The Man so I have to assume that it's due to the forbearance of The Man that I am allowed to remain here for the time being.
I will, of course, be careful not to disturb The Man's truck.