Suck my D*ck C.

Well the madness around the office now has a name… And the name is Dick C. The hotel right behind us is totally cordonned off by MIBs, police and large concrete fences and the police have created special ‘Republican Car-Shares Only’ lanes down 5th Avenue. There’s probably about 300 police within 500m of our building. I feel very warm, safe and protected. Not!

Back to the hotel. So obviously this hotel, along with many others right around us like the Four Seasons right next to CitiBank (poor CitiBank) is chock full of Republicants. So we’ve hit on the idea of putting protest posters up in the windows facing the hotel. Shweet. What makes this even sweeter is that we found out from the guy who cleans up every night that the hotel is Mr C’s favorite when he’s in town. How funny/worrying is that. Keep having flashbacks to the Brighton bombing in the UK, 20 years ago.

Our new neighbour, combined with a nightmare I had the other night about dying in an elevator makes for a very jolly trip up to the 16th floor every morning. Huzah! Still, made a nice change from dreams about dying in plane crashes. Plus the 3D effects in the dream and the feeling of rapid falling motion were way cool. Let’s go again! Let’s go again!

*u, as in Duck. Obviously. Thanks to the Passer By bar for that title.

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