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{{a|devil|}}Once in a long while<ref>Once every three or four days, about.</ref> over the sort of long, inglorious career most people have in the finance industry, you see a giveaway. A tell: a knowing look, a sly wink, fingers crossed behind the back, a stray wire, a black-clad stage-hand scampering away a moment too late to beat the rising curtain — just enough to wonder: is this whole thing, secretly, a gigantic ''have''? Are we stooges? Have we all been fitted up, Truman Burbank-style, in some epochal, multi-decade-long [[Game For | {{a|devil|}}Once in a long while<ref>Once every three or four days, about.</ref> over the sort of long, inglorious career most people have in the finance industry, you see a giveaway. A tell: a knowing look, a sly wink, fingers crossed behind the back, a stray wire, a black-clad stage-hand scampering away a moment too late to beat the rising curtain — just enough to wonder: is this whole thing, secretly, a gigantic ''have''? Are we stooges? Have we all been fitted up, Truman Burbank-style, in some epochal, multi-decade-long [[Game For A Laugh]]? Is the creator playing with us for his sport, like flies to wanton boys? | ||
I had one of those moments today. It arrived in the shape of an eight-page, tightly-kerned, ten-point Times New Roman slab-style Americanised tract: The kind of writing that suffocates you: it admits of no breathing — there is no punctuation nor artful use of white space to break the wordscape up girded-about with the weaponry of litigious mistrust — Indemnities, the mutual contemplation of equitable injunctions, covenants to destroy utterly and salt the barren earth | I had one of those moments today. It arrived in the shape of an eight-page, tightly-kerned, ten-point Times New Roman slab-style Americanised tract: The kind of writing that suffocates you: it admits of no breathing — there is no punctuation nor artful use of white space to break the wordscape up girded-about with the weaponry of litigious mistrust — Indemnities, the mutual contemplation of equitable injunctions, covenants to destroy utterly and salt the barren earth | ||
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*[[Game For | *[[Game For A Laugh]] | ||
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Revision as of 17:51, 19 April 2022
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Once in a long while[1] over the sort of long, inglorious career most people have in the finance industry, you see a giveaway. A tell: a knowing look, a sly wink, fingers crossed behind the back, a stray wire, a black-clad stage-hand scampering away a moment too late to beat the rising curtain — just enough to wonder: is this whole thing, secretly, a gigantic have? Are we stooges? Have we all been fitted up, Truman Burbank-style, in some epochal, multi-decade-long Game For A Laugh? Is the creator playing with us for his sport, like flies to wanton boys?
I had one of those moments today. It arrived in the shape of an eight-page, tightly-kerned, ten-point Times New Roman slab-style Americanised tract: The kind of writing that suffocates you: it admits of no breathing — there is no punctuation nor artful use of white space to break the wordscape up girded-about with the weaponry of litigious mistrust — Indemnities, the mutual contemplation of equitable injunctions, covenants to destroy utterly and salt the barren earth
The JC’s ever-so-occasional newsletter
We gave up on doing our own desk-top published Newsletter, which took months and use now sub-stack, which also takes months. It's here: https://jollycontrarian.substack.com/
See also
References
- ↑ Once every three or four days, about.