Come in, Bob. Shut the door.
You’re wearing your blue paisley tie. Let me guess, it’s bi-millennial performance review time.
Should we start with your strengths or weaknesses?
What weaknesses? Am I not God?
I am the one true Creator. Technically, you’re still a junior associate.
I’ve been with the company for 13 billion years. What do I have to do to get a bump in pay grade? I do have my own universe.
Let’s start there: the slow growth of your universe.
It’s expanding at 46 miles per second.
I’m not talking about that kind of growth. I’m talking about developmental growth.
I don’t follow, Jefe.
For example, there is only one planet in your universe known to sustain life. What are your goals in this department?
I created a planet about a thousand years ago. It’s got everything. It’s the same size as Earth. It’s in a habitable zone and it revolves around a red dwarf. That’s pretentious Earth-speak for star or sun, not a little guy in a red suit.
I recall reading something like that in one of your constellation reports. I apologize.
NASA just discovered it last year. They call it Kepler-186f. What a dumb name. They gave real names to eight planets, nine if you count Pluto, and then they switch to this lame alphanumeric system. Talk about uninspired.
Can you bring me up to speed on the progress you’ve made on this project?
I admit it’s been slower than I’d like. I think I might have made the red dwarf too small. Ironic isn’t it?
I think it’s your low energy levels. Sixty-five million years ago you killed the dinosaurs—and nearly everything else on the planet—because you fell asleep at your workstation.
It was the double dose of Nyquil I had for breakfast. And I didn’t kill them, an asteroid did.
You mean a meteor.
Asteroid, meteor, whatever. It wasn’t my fault.
We’re holding a mesospheric management seminar after work on Tuesday. You should attend.
Is it paid?
No. But it’s catered.
I have an AA meeting. But I might be willing to skip it if there’s an open bar.
Read it all at The Morning News.