Home.

I made it home a couple hours ago, thanks to the good, tolerant graces of my wife and a young doctor, who took me under her wing at the hospital.

For all the advances of medical technology, a hospital is a painful place to be sick. And, like the old "Tootsy Frootsy Ice Cream scene" with Chico and Groucho in "A Day at the Races," if you don't like the diseases you have, we'll make up some new ones for you.

Pursuant to that young doctor, she made me think a little about advertising.

We have become in the world corporations.

We protect and serve the corporation.

And the corporation proscribes our behaviors.

Mostly that means work is done slowly, mundanely, and by committee. With more check ins than are humanly bearable.

That way, out the other end, comes just what you'd expect.

A corporate turd.

Every so often, however, someone breaks or ignores that corporate, almost Soviet morass. And smiles and perseveres and prevails.

Our systems in so many ways are so broken.

Everything from phone service to airlines to hospitals to agencies has been motor-vehicleized.

We need to find a way through this.
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I any event, I am home now.

Thanks for all the kind wishes.