Off-Script in a Scripted World

So this is the prototypical example of everything wrong with my life and my world:

I walk into the post office, set down a package, and say "priority mail, please; nothing's fragile, liquid, perishable, caloric, or depressing," and the clerk glares back at me with unbridled seething hatred.

I didn't expect peals of uncontrollable laughter or comped return-receipt. But, Jesus. Those who decline to follow scripts - who try to relieve boredom by injecting surprise and humor - are inevitably punished for our efforts. No wonder everything's so boring, unsurprising, and humorless!


My ideal epitaph: "The World was Margaret Dumont"