June 24, 2002
From the desk of Jane Galt:Sigh. Daddy Warblogs is reporting
Sigh. Daddy Warblogs is reporting that Neale Talbot of WarbloggerWatch has entered into the discussion of InstaPundit's visitor statistics with that tired old lefty chestnut: "[Name your discussion of something's size] is a proxy for penis size". Honestly. Psychiatry has moved past Freud -- why can't the left? Besides, which, even Freud admitted that sometimes a tree is just a tree. Every time I hear someone drag that old saw out, all I can think is "Oh, snore. Hasn't this person read anything since 1971?"
Which reminds me of a story.
I was working on a move at an investment bank. They were relocating into a beautiful new building with glass-fronted offices that reflected the 90's open office aesthetic without actually requiring the MD's to mingle with the proles. So, as is usual with relocations, chaos prevailed on the first day -- people who couldn't print, login, use their computers, what have you. I was just starting out in the industry, and as low man on the totem pole, was running around like mad trying to get everyone fixed.
So in the middle of all this I got a call from one of the MD's, who we'll call Ted Tyler. He was a large, burly Aussie with a flaming temper when he didn't get what he wanted, and I was quaking as I ran, not walked, to his new glass office. I am sure my voice trembled as I asked him what the problem was.
"This [expletive deleted] [censored] monitor," he said, gesturing to the piece of equipment in question. I stared at the monitor. It appeared, to my inexperienced eyes, to be working perfectly. I tapped it, moved the mouse around, turned it on and off, and still couldn't see a problem.
"What exactly is wrong with it?" I asked tenatively.
"It's too [expurgated] small!" he said. "I was walking around the floor and I looked into all the other offices and their [expletive deleted] monitors are much bigger than mine!"
"So you want another monitor," I said, simultaneously relieved and somewhat bewildered.
"[Censored] right, I do."
"How big a monitor would you like?" I asked.
He removed his cigar from his mouth and regarded me. "Oh, I want a big monitor. I want the biggest monitor you've got. I want a monitor twice as big as any other monitor on this floor."
I saluted and marched off to order him the largest monitor available -- a 31-incher designed for graphics stations and priced around the level of a mid-sized car.
Sometimes a tree is just a tree.
And sometimes, it's not.
Posted by Jane Galt at June 24, 2002 9:19 AM | TrackBack | Technorati inbound links