. . .the bartender put on the Golden Globes. He had the remote, he had the beer, he had the control. Case closed.
During the opening segment it was said that George Clooney would be getting a humanitarian award. The woman beside me snorts,
“Why would he be getting a humanitarian award? He’s just an actor.”
I looked at her for a moment wondering if I should enter her world. I hesitated but, you know me, let’s take that journey.
“Well,” I began slowly. “There was that work he did in Darfur.” I paused. I watched. I noticed nothing. She just stared back at me so I figured I must add some additional words. “And it’s sequel, Darfive.”
She threw her hands in the air. “See? Just like I said. They don’t care about anything other than making money.”
It was at this point in time I ceased talking to her. But, more importantly, I stopped listening to her.