The Intelligence Estimate

When I first moved here (almost a year ago now) I worked downtown next to the Hancock Building. One day I was standing at the corner waiting for the bus to take me home when I saw this guy stopped at the light. He was in a little silver convertible sports car and he had a big dog riding shotgun. The guy was in his early-mid fifties and was dressed like he was not out to impress anyone. This suspicion was also confirmed by the music blaring out of his speakers: We Built This City On Rock and Roll, by Jefferson Starship. And he was ROCKIN' OUT! The dog was less interested in The Starship. This pleased me. At least someone in that car had taste. Sadly it was the one who spends gross amounts of time with his nose gleefully buried in his own crotch, but I'm sure that if the driver had that talent it would take the place in his heart that was formerly held by Jefferson Starship!

I stood at this light for what seemed like an eternity. The light changed. The little silver sports car careened away and I was stuck at the bus stop with that song in my head. Why are the most inanely insipid song always the most catchy? I was two seconds away from a full blown dance-off when I swore I heard the music starting up all over again.

"This can't be good," I thought. If the music is stuck in your head, that's one thing (most likely a long couch trip at your favorite therapist.) But if you are projecting the music out into the real world from your thoughts, that's quite another matter indeed! (A long bout with shock therapy is my guess.) I quickly wrote off any delusions of full blown psychosis when I noticed other people reacting to the song as well.

The little guy in the silver sports car was clearly lost. He had circled the block and was now right beside me at a 90 degree angle from where he was the first time. And he was still blasting Starship. Apparently they'd built this city on Rock and Roll, but, seeing as how they were most likely rock and rolling all night and partying everyday, they forgot to make maps. As far as I know, this nut is still stuck in some kind of mobius strip of frustration downtown right now. And the only one who is really happy about that is his dog who built this city on and even more base instinct than Rock and Roll!