Time’s gotten a little...Loose, around here. What you thought was Tuesday might turn out to be Sunday, and the year varies from place to place. At work, it’s 1975. At home, 2011. In the Legal District, it’s always been the roaring 20s, and in Central Filth it’s some horrible future year that nobody wants to deal with.
Pretty sure I just saw Steve McQueen drive by in a bright red Porshe this morning...But I was offsite, in the Maze, and nobody there wants to know what DAY it is, let alone what decade.
Flipping though my radio dial, I can find music from 500 years ago, or just last week.
Time is loose.
What’s more, it’s stretchy. 3 hours in the sack with a willing partner goes by in a second. Waiting in line for 3 hours at the DMV lasts a month.
Time cannot be relied upon. It doesn’t hold to schedules you set. This is a constant annoyance, and perhaps something should be done about it. We don’t need a time machine to visit the past, we can do that anytime we like. We don’t need that machine to visit the future, because the future is a horrible fucking lie, and I hope it never comes.
No, we need a machine to iron time. To press out all the wrinkles and make it uniform. Also, we need batteries to store wasted time, so we can use it when we need it.
Speaking of time, I’m out of it. I must go do those things I am paid to do.
Okay For Now,