For 1976.

When people say things like “I am terrible with email/phone calls”, I just don’t believe them anymore. It’s like that dude Mike we used to hang out with back in Buffalo. He was always late. “Why is Mike always late?” I would ask. Cecile would say “That’s Mike. We just kinda got used to him always being late. About 30 minutes late. Every time.” They just accepted it. Which drove me nuts. He was a good dancer, though. We all went up to Toronto for an overnight and Mike sure could dance. I bought him a cassette copy of “Rhythm Nation 1814”. I think it was one of those deals where I was not expected to get him something. And maybe that gift somehow made me guilty of assuming he was gay. I didn’t care if he was. I wanted him to be on fucking time from now on.

When people say “I am terrible with email/phone calls”, to me that’s them saying “You’re not important enough to me to merit responses in a timely, polite manner.” Why not just say THAT?

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