
Every day on the bus ride to work I disembark at Metcalfe Station, where every day fat, unshaven men in garish, corporate vests try to make me read their free newspapers. I don’t like free newspapers. They are, by definition, worthless.
It’s a universal truth that things with value cost money, while things without value are free—particularly where fat, unshaven men are concerned. If it weren’t, then Richard M. Stallman would be the Editor of the Boston Globe, instead of the author of licenses no-one reads, and software that no-one uses. Also, Paul Prudhomme would probably be making edible steak and potato dinners, Dom DeLuise’s surviving relatives would be dusting the mantelpiece around his collection of Oscars, and Meat Loaf would be gyrating suggestively on MTV.
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