Fuck perfection.

I'm in the filthiest place on earth, or one of them, LaGuardia airport, on my way west to present some work to some C-level people.

The work has stayed essentially the same for the last six weeks.

But for the last six weeks we have probably permutated two versions of the deck a day, everyday.

We are trying to make it perfect.

With not an extra space between words.

Not a punctuation mark hanging.

Not a participle dangling.

I hate perfection.

I hate the mania, the obsession to scrub something so clean that it's antiseptic.

They say kids today don't have the resistance to illness enjoyed by previous generations because over-protective parents have shielded them from every germ.

I fear that we are doing the same in our business.

In the quest for perfection we are destroying humanity, life, wit and worst, serendipity and surprise.

We have plowed over reality and laid down astroturf.

It might look good but it has no life.

I just looked up "goofs" on IMDB's listing of "Citizen Kane," arguably the greatest movie ever.

I counted 34.

Fuck perfection.