Some times I wonder why I still read James Lileks’ weblog so regularly, given that it’s all about his life and his life as a million degrees separated from mine, and then posts like today’s remind me: he is one of the few people out there who is able to completely overthink completely trivial things almost as much as I do:

The scenarios in each verse are always the same: someone who has a job or an appointment discovers that their watch is broken, and makes the mistake of asking the head of the Anti-Timex League if he could possibly lend a hand, only to be given a lecture on the unobtainable nature of time and the folly of seeking to fix it exactly.

Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? If so, I can’t imagine why.

Oh, get a job, hippie.

There’s actually more. And German Foghorn Leghorn techno.

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