there's this part in the bourne identity in which bourne is explaining to marie that he can't understand that he doesn't know who he is but he knows the license plate number of all six cars in the lot and that he guy at the bar is 249 pounds and knows how to handle himself in a fight. sizing up, seems to have practical applications everywhere. the bastard prefers to size folks up all the time, saves him the trouble of hassling the 7 foot tall guy who looks like he had a bad day from 100 yards away
so the bastard sees the opportunity to make the 5:13 (bankers hours, my ass. i mean seriously, the bastard sees more of his office in a day than some others see of their workplace in a week). anyway, i get in and the quick seat grab (which is never the best seat grab) is some biscuithead who has a similar build and he's fiddling with his stuff. i sit down running the risk of spinal bifida anyway. sometimes any seat is the best seat. so biscuit starts off with his opening act which is his elbow move. which of course makes me just hunker down further. then i notice he's got his dream theater dvd going into his portable dvd player. now i give the daughter of mawg some slack for listening to dream theater but biscuit, i can no longer take seriously. so i continue my little hunker, the spinal bifeda setting in. no nap for me, it's the ipod. and then i get calm. calm because "flashlight" by parliament funkadelic comes on and i let george clinton calm me down. battles over, cause i got the funk now. and everybody's got a little light under the sun.
after the fact, i get on the horn to the DoM and get voicemail (which is sometimes better) and i inform her that doctor funkenstein has saved this poor fellows life and he will always e in debt to him but never know it. besides, i didn't want the DoM to be th eonly dream theater fan at their next concert. now two people will be there.