The Occasional Joke


Nurse: Patient's name?

Centurion: Marcus Licinius Crassus

Nurse: And his date of birth?

Centurion: 115 BC.

Nurse: All right. And what is he here for?

Centurion: Cataphract surgery.


Monday, September 1, 2008

plus ça change ...


An old colleague from our days in the tape backup biz was in town, and without giving it much thought (although it was Friday,) we decided to go to the fabled Old Town (a.k.a, the Odd Town Tavern, famed in story and song, but mostly in the Wood-Charles News Service.) Lo and behold, we were seated at the same old long table in the back, under the same old nude painting. The same old Liz (not that old - certainly not as old as the nude painting, anyway) was on hand, as she used to be. We ate peanuts, drank beer, and told the same old stories of life in the world of employment.

Afterward, we went to the Wine Bar at the Earle, a block away, and were waited on by Felipe, another Old Town alumnus. Except for the fact that they fled the decaying urban grittiness of downtown Ann Arbor for the sanitary tracts of Zeeb Road and I-94, we could have made a real night of it and ended up at Metzger's. The only real change of any import is that you can now see where we were on Google streets, since they've thoughtfully photo'ed the whole bleedin' town.

Labor day morning