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The Heavenly Times
May 30, 2008 - Summer Wallace-Minger
Whenever something around here doesn't work (and the equipment around here misfires more often than you would think), we always say "At the 'Heavenly Times,' everything will work perfectly."
The "Heavenly Times" is our little in-joke. A lot of us around here are born-again, so we're hoping not to be left behind when judgement comes, although I'm pretty paranoid. Maybe I can write the newletter of the resistence when that time comes.
At the "Heavenly Times," everything works, including the bathroom -- you don't have to walk up the street to "visit" the Chamber of Commerce -- we don't get calls and letters from weird fringe groups who have axes to grind and want us to play chief questioners in their Inquistions, we never get tired or distracted and our concentration is always keen.
At the "Heavenly Times," not only does the computers work and we can plug in space heaters without blowing a circuit in the newsroom, we don't need space heaters, because our boiler/heater is never broken, nor is it ever cold. In addition, we don't need computers or software. We think things, and they appear on the page.
The reporters at the "Heavenly Times" have photographic memories, so accuracy is never a problem. The press never breaks down, and the carriers are always on time and have pin-point accuracy.
Basically, everything is perfect. It sounds good, but if everything went perfectly, what would I complain about?
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My next job will be at the "Heavenly Times." Or somewhere a little more earthly, maybe.