Andyday

I want to tell you very briefly about a Broadway show I never saw and whose music I don’t think I ever heard, but about which I have a strong opinion anyway. It was called “Stop the World, I Want to Get Off.” Clever title, but totally wrong-headed. What was this, a suicidal musical comedy? The world is fantastic! What could they have been thinking about? Here’s the title that sums up my life: “Stop the World, I Want to Catch Up.”

Sure, it would be nice to be able to fly, though I can only begin to imagine the regulatory mess that would ensue (what would Superman have made of the FAA?). And sure, it would be even nicer to be able to be invisible—though you’d have to be able to turn it on and off reliably, and even then the practical mechanics of it could get awkward if someone actually saw you abruptly appear and disappear. (An excellent novel suggesting some of these difficulties was published several years ago, Memoirs of an Invisible Man, written with great skill by a Wall Street securities analyst. Though out of print, it shouldn’t be too hard to find. Or you might enjoy listening to it on tape—apparently that’s in stock.) But what I really would like is simply to have an eighth day in every week when you all were frozen. No newspapers, no magazines, no e-mail or junk mail or mail mail or phone calls—just a chance to catch up.

You would have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday but then, while you were frozen, I would have Andyday. Is that too much to ask? (And no, I would not mess with you while you were frozen.)