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Please do the Needful. before/after "Please do the Needful"--salutation on an European help request It sounds good. But its getting late here...hear?...heeer at the Desk and the fact is it doesn't mean much. "Please do the Needful" I repeat it to no won? one? oune? in particular, making myself laugh a brutal cackle. Life is short and brutish. My hands are cold and slightly icky. I haven't washed them since I've been to work. No hand sanitizer, too. Slow painful death lurks at the end of my fingertips. And not like a ninja, or karate-expert. No, not in these days of death, disease, deadly rain and pissed off alligators. No, I've abandoned so many of my romantic notions of life and myself its embarassing, disgusting. I didn't used to tilt at windmills so much as leer at them. And they leered back. No, death is on my fingertips most likely in some form of avian flu or flesh eating bacteria. Sometimes I hope for success, like late at night, as I can't sleep, pretending to address the nation with my leadership concerns, pretending to be president, as embarassing as any, earnestly peering into the camera trying to convince the nation of the need for Ethanol, peace, Solar Energy arrays on public buildings, a solar array in the desert and cars that drive themselves attached to a broadband network, saving 50000 lives a year. Debating that with conservative candidates that seek to paint me as a liberal run amok, backstabbing and planting stories in the press... Or other nights, pretending to be a wealthy philanthropist, arguing with the city council as they argue with me and attempt to stymie my efforts to clean up the river and the beaches of the city, against anyone who would dominate the spotlight so, against any sort of progress as all small minded politicians are won't to do. And sometimes all I think I can hope for is a quick, clean, painless death. The sad fact is that it likely won't be any of those things, and may more likely than not end up being at the hands of some mystified high-school drop out, working for six dollars an hour at a local quizno's, poisoning you with HER unwashed hands, untrammeled ever by any sort of sanitizer or sanitary practice. And, goddamit, if you don't watch her like a hawk, she'll do you like the most expert geisha-assassin, the ultimate irony of it all is that even ghengis khan fell off his horse. The mundane will eventually drag us all down. Please do the Needful. Oh, I forgot to mention, a guy named Phil just called me three times in a row, rapid fire, because he couldn't find a folder on the network...I gave him all the tools he needed to find it, and he called me back when he finally found it. As if I cared. Please do the Needful. Please do the Needful!
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