My life as a dog

Date published: August 22, 2003

I walked into my office today and found a cartoon from the New Yorker on my chair. Apparently, Karen (my former boss who is now retired) thought of me when she read it. It's from the August 11th, 2003 edition of The New Yorker.

Now don't misinterpret. The reason why she thought of me wasn't because I say things and feel like an ass. At lunch with co-workers the discussion would sometimes turn towards political topics, and I would not usually chime in much. Not because I didn't have anything to say, but just that I don't like talking about politics. My view is that one can talk and talk and talk about politics, but three people talking at lunch isn't going to solve anything.