spring

[pgs@thillana.lcs.mit.edu (Patrick Sobalvarro)]

Ah, spring!  The air so full of life and promise as each little bud
bursts forth in its exuberant reawakening.  The birds chirping in the
trees, the happy peasants in the fields tilling the soil and planting,
the light green and gold in the morning, seeming to promise
something...

This is my favorite time of the year.  It's on days like this when I
dismiss the servants and walk through my mansion, my footsteps echoing
in its empty marble halls (rather like an immense mausoleum, don't you
know).  When I am absolutely certain that no one else is spying about,
I disarm the triply-redundant burglar alarms and descend to my dark
basement, carefully locking the doors behind me.  Then, after a few
moments of delightful anticipation, I open my vaults and select a few
examples from my immense collection of AKR-47's, BMW's, Montblanc
pens, and pristine unused Leicas -- none of which has ever been used
to expose a single frame.  My strong, cruel fingers, so often used in
exploiting helpless third-world peoples, now lovingly fondle my
favorite possessions for a few happy hours before I return them to
their humidity-controlled, locked vaults.

Thus renewed, I return to my daily routine of polluting the
environment, trampling the rights of little people, and eating meat.
So would all you sanctimonious impoverished artist types please stop
telling me to take pictures!  Of course, I would never think of
reducing the value of my immense holdings by doing such a thing.