Beer advertising raised to art form (except for all that Flash, of course). So I'm still at work. And I'm trying to get home. But I keep remembering little things that need to get done. I hate little things. :: The subway is probably my best blogging time, I've come to realize. I have my most bloggy thoughts then. Too bad it's not safe to travel with my laptop out at these late hours. :: So I was thinking about men with guns. Big guns. In camouflage. On the street, in the subway. And then I got a little sad. It makes sense. Scary perfect sense. That's what they do, scout out a location for weeks or months before they attack. And nothing screws up a surveillence better then random appearences of men With big guns, Lots of guns. But it brings me back to Korea. Kimpo airport, actually. When I was checking in to go home, a pair of guys with guns (smaller guns) patrolled past, and I thought to myself, "Thank God I'm going home." Where none of that crap goes on. But I'm a New Yorker too. True blue. So, mr. army guy, Thank You for your protection and that IS a big gun you are carrying, but I got places to be 10 minutes ago, and if you insist on standing in the middle of the narrow passageway between my #2 train and my N train I'll run you over. Like I just did to those Danish tourists.