Guilt trip (you can become anything you want to be except, well, a successful cryogenic).

Amidst all the graduation hoopla this time of year and all the accompanying bright potential and glorious future talk, I just realised I may not survive to see the the 22nd century. Man, that stinks. Well...happy weekend, everyone! Many great things ahead for some of you, or some great things ahead for all of you. Hope you enjoy next century, and please don't think about me not being around for it.

GUILT TRIP, PT. 2.

"Daddy, may I please have one of your business cards so I can learn more about you?"

- my daughter, with a smile the mischievous side of the Mediterranean, where I do not own a villa on the sea because I am not yet successful enough to do so. 

But she doesn't know that.

At least she didn't. Because I didn’t give her a card. You’ve gotta control the flow of information. First rule of a dictatorship. Shh. She also doesn’t know I’m one of the higher-ups in our family chain of command.

COUCH.

There are 24 hours in a day.

She would like to spend 25 of them reading.

She really needs to get a job.