After two months of work, I finally brought in a piece of decoration for my cubicle. It is a picture of a monkey. He looks very suave.

I did watch the Super Bowl this weekend. I can only really get interested in most sports for the communal aspect. It's nice when the communal aspect includes food. Yum. This was only the second Super Bowl I'd seen from start to finish (the first is no mystery). I had to avoid last year's game for fear that I might see the commercials that the unfortunate conglomerate of my then-employment created to advertise themselves. This year, no such concerns. Nothing much of note during the broadcast other than the conclusion of the game, which was a stirring testimony to the human spirit. I forgot to watch for the tax commercial that the Coen Brothers directed. I did my own taxes, so my unemployed-for-half-the-year ass was not its target market. But if the proceeds help the Coens afford a better class of monkey for their next movie, which may or may not involve a monkey (I don't know anything more than you do), that's fine. I'm not about to dictate.

Here is an idea for a commercial, developed while watching the Super Bowl:

There is a monkey in a living room. It is a well-apportioned home, speaking to ownership by an upper middle class family. The monkey is throwing his feces. This is energetic, excited feces throwing - not angry feces throwing. We include a close-up on the monkey's face to indicate that it is a smiling monkey. The monkey finally runs through his supply of feces and ambles off in search of the bananas with which to generate more. His shit is everywhere. The family returns home and contemplates their feces-spattered domestic splendor. Most of the family is distressed, but the (mother?) remains calm. She sends the other family members on their way and breaks out the (Febreze?). In a series of close-ups, we see her applying the cleaning product. Then, we pull back to see the rest of the family re-entering the living room, where the mother has just finished her work. The living room is sparkling new. The father shakes his head. "It's as though there was never a monkey throwing his feces around in here!" The family grins, and we center on the product logo.

Alternatively, the mother selects the wrong cleaning product. She then has friends over, and they all comment that the place smells like monkey shit.

A guy was singing on the train Saturday night, and another guy was perturbed about it. He asked me why the first guy was singing. I said that I didn't know. "So we have to sit here and listen to him sing?" I said that I didn't plan to do anything about it. He paused, and then he spoke. "Have you ever seen the laughing man?" I said that I had not. "He sits outside of this one Borders. I walked by him one day in the morning, and he was laughing. Then I walk by again after work, and he's still laughing. I asked him, why are you laughing? The guy stopped and looked at me. 'Richard Pryor', he said."