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3 weeks ago I experienced The Worst 90 Seconds of My Life – seriously. I will share this with you all, primarily for your edification. And while I concede that there may be significant humor in what I will detail, I assure you that 1) the following account is true without exaggeration and 2) there was absolutely no humor to be found in any of this at the time.

Books, Music, and Shame.

It happened in Borders Books, Music & Cafe — the one on 95th Street, east of Western. Walking into the store, I stopped to hold the door for a woman approaching from behind me. She noticed and hurried her gait to meet me. I smiled, noticed hers in return, said she didn’t have to rush and then let her walk in ahead of me. It was one of those moments that while it lasted gave natural suppression to the misanthropy which too often stalks my paces with the public. Pep in step, I proceeded towards the rear of Borders, where the philosophy and psychology shelves lead into self-help and those popular new-age texts of wish-think feelgoodery, browsing along the way for titles I might purchase as gifts, later and for less at another store. Passing the magazine racks, I felt a gurgle. “No rush,” I thought, and meandered on the way to the Borders’ restroom.

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