Sometimes when I'm standing in a crowd I get the impression that people are watching me.

I'm not an egomaniac. I know that not many people today would go out of their way to glance in my direction if I were on fire, but nontheless I get the impression that people are watching me, just sort of looking at me out of the corner of their eye.  But I don't deserve their attention. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I'll do something really ingenious or terrible in the future, which will make my name famous or infamous.

I wonder if sometime in the distant, distant future, they'll invent time machines that will allow the super rich to go on vacations in history. Obviously great historic occasions would be off-limits for space-time continuum reasons, or at least restricted to the five ruling Jewish families.  Instead, these time gawkers would be able to watch famous people during their more mundane moments, reality television taken to the ultimate level.

I can imagine classes of students going on field-trips during Wade Sands day, to put the man in perspective.  Those kids over there are staring at me out of the corners of their eyes, whispering, "Wow, that's really him.  Don't look right at him,"  or, "Remember, he hasn't killed anyone yet," or, "I thought he'd look smarter." Meanwhile, I stand in line with my Macaroni and Cheese, surreptitiously picking my nose, history in motion.

Today's rant was surgically isolated and removed from the carefully preserved brain of Wade Sands

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