Ultramundane: It’s Just Not Natural

Last night we saw “Playtime” at the Castro theater. All about a man who tries to meet a collegue in an ultra-modernist version of Paris and gets mixed up with a bunch of American tourists; madness ensues.

On the way out, I rounded the corner at 17th and Market and sidestepped around a
slightly dirty man with crazy hair coming the other way. He guttorally hissed (sounds contradictory, I know) at me:

“Aaaasssss-hhhhhhole….”

When you’ve spent the last two hours watching a French Modernist farce about living in a contemporary (for 1967) city, and you’re in khakis, and you’re carrying a cellphone, it’s hard to argue the point. Especially with someone who hasn’t seen soap in a few days. However, even though I thought it, I did not reply:

“Who isn’t?”

Greetings Vox. Nice to meet you.