On my way back from the bagel shop on Broadway, I encountered an idealistic youth peddling copies of the Socialist Worker newspaper. I love these people.
Our brief conversation went something like this:
Me: So, I see you’re selling copies of Socialist Worker for a buck. Do you see a fundamental irony in that?
Him: No, not really. What do you mean?
Me: I mean, shouldn’t you be forcing me to consume this product that I don’t want against my will and then garnishing my wages for an overinflated representation of its fair market value?
Him: <long blank stare> Asshole.
It was priceless.
