Fame in the future TENSE.
I was walking in my neighborhood the other nite with Woody Allen, both of us blown on precious purp and stuffed with brick oven pizza. I stared at my pal as we got ready to cross 1st Avenue and what I thought was a look of contentment at all being right with the world was actually a look of jaded disgust.
“UGH!” my friend muttered, as she adjusted her famous, thick-framed glasses. “Look at that, another one of those horrible mini-banks. They’re everywhere! I’ll tell ya, in the future, all we’ll be doing is taking out money from ATMs and buying coffee at Starbucks. Oh, and maybe we’ll go to a wireless store every once in awhile too.”
“In the future I want my own skyscraper,” I said, “And there won’t be a single fluorescent bulb anywhere in it. But there will be plenty of smoke and mirrors.”