Saturday, June 28, 2003

Five: De Oppresso Liber

"Well, here's to Hudson Hotel thinking of everything," Maureen said, wine in hand.

"Yes, and to victory in the Middle least, for somebody."

"Yes, to victory. And liberation. Don't forget that."

"Of course. Liberation."

"Military or otherwise."

"This Sam Adams needs liberation."

"My career needs liberation."

"I need to be liberated out of my tax bracket."

"You need to be liberated out of those pants."

"You'll never get UN approval."

"Then I'll just have to go it alone, won't I?"

"Can I watch?"

"Hey, you're the boy, aren't you? You're the pace car. Why am I doing all the work?"

"Oh, okay... Well, why don't you step out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini?"

"What wet clothes?"

"Step out of those dry clothes, then."

Maureen laughed, "and into what?"

"That's immaterial."

"That's not a very convincing argument."

"I'm the pace car, remember? If I'm going make all the advances you have to do your part, too."

"I am!" Maureen said indignantly. "My job is to resist your advances!"

"You never told me that!"

"Of course, snoopy! Don't you know how these things work? The boys fight each other for the girl and the girl holds out for the best genes."

"Let's not talk about my pants."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "You and your monkiness! Listen, I want to help. Look at the monks, they wear beautiful saffron silk robes and carry cell phones. The pope has all of his robes and vestments hand tailored by the finest tailors from, I don't know, Milan. And his shoes, well, an Italian man wouldn't be caught dead in cheap footwear."

"Great. I'm competing with the Pope."

"Or take Calvin Klein. His aesthetic is monastic. But he uses the most luxurious fabrics and other materials. So there's hope for your unmaterialistic soul yet."

"If you're really going to resist we're never going to get anywhere. I can only pretend to be clever for so long."

Maureen considered. "You know, it's really very selfish of us to be going on about our own affairs when there is such turmoil in the world tonight."

"Yes!" I declared. "Let's let the turmoil of the world distract us from our own. We don't even know the current score, or whether U2 will be performing at half-time."

"I'm sure Leon will inform us of everything worth knowing. We'll have a much better view of the television from the bed, no?"

"Verily, verily, my dear. A capital idea."