My copy of The Economist magazine is now officially almost 48 hours late. Clearly there is no crisis or cause for alarm. It is a magazine after all which is why I have not called the police. Haggling with the local distributor is not going to help either.
I’m shocked that I even have to convince myself that there is no crisis. Repeatedly. I still have 3 old copies left to survive on (read it dry). Perhaps I’ll read the tender invites from third world governments or take a sniff at the small eternal ad in the back about opening a Swiss bank account.
I don’t think I’m addicted to that blasphemously free market wad of paper. I think its the style of the writing. The snooty flow of the phrases that also informs. The closest metaphor I can think of is a Vodka WITH nutritional value. Drunk straight out of the bottle (as opposed to those silly little glasses). Clearly I have digressed and the magazine still hasn’t arrived.
Of course I could read the thing off the screen or download an audio version. Both seem unacceptable for inexplicable reasons.
Vut Tu Du but wait…
As there is no crisis. Just an excuse for a short little post.