Thursday, July 1, 2004
  1. Maybe it’s a bridge you haven’t quite come to yet and you’re still waiting to cross it. But now that it’s been mentioned, you just can’t quit thinking about it. What kind of bridge is it? Is it steel or wooden? Hopefully it’s not one of those rope bridges that swings when you walk on it, those are kind of scary. See what I mean though? You just can’t quit thinking about it now. The bridge never should have been brought up in the first place. Ooh, maybe it’s a drawbridge and you really can bring it up. Wouldn’t that be neat?

  2. Maybe it’s a bridge you’ve already burned and the troubled water is actually comforting to you, because it means you’ll never have to go back. Maybe it’s a bridge leading back to the days when your brother-in-law worked as a salesman at your RV dealership and you suspected that he was stealing money from you but your wife wouldn’t let you press charges and after you fired him she made you sleep in the Winnebago for a week. Why would anybody want to keep that bridge around?

  3. The type of bridge is never specified. Perhaps a sturdy concrete bridge capable of supporting several heavy-duty recreational vehicles would ease my mind, but what if it were a bridge, made entirely of Popsicle sticks, as a small child’s art project? That would be a little discomforting. Even more so if you think about the small child actually dangling over troubled water in order to construct the bridge in the first place.

  4. No one even bothered to find out what it is that’s troubling the water in the first place. Maybe it’s still bitter over the fact that its brother-in-law never repaid it that two hundred and fifty dollar loan he said would help him “get back on his feet.” Will just haphazardly throwing a bridge across it really resolve anything? I hardly think so. It’s been almost three years, Ed, by the way. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.

Jeremy Martin once wore a swimsuit as underwear. The longterm consequences are still undetermined.

Dear Sam Raimi Last evening, I attended a midnight screening of the première of Spider-Man 2. I arrived at the theater full of optimistic glee and peanut M&Ms. Three minutes into the film, both were expended. Sam, I won’t sugarcoat it: the movie sucked hard.
Why I'll Never Be Granted a Home Equity Loan Citibank 100 Citibank Drive P.O. Box 769004 San Antonio, TX, 78245-9004 June 29, 2004 Dear Mr. Wolinetz, We have received and processed your application for a home equity loan. At this time, we’re unable to extend a loan to you...
Oh, What a Fortnight! Sorry, ladies: 1/3 of Yankee Pot Roast’s council of editorial elders is now off the market. As the tin cans clank down the street in the wake of Nick and Wendy’s limousine, Y.P.R. reflects upon what it has missed in...

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