Was wandering this world, wanted to say something, and here's what showed up on the screen:

"You're currently posting as Frank Charlemagne"

What my mildly anesthetized brain saw:

"You're currently posing as Frank Charlemagne"

I clicked yes, uh-huh, submit, as fast as I reasonably could.

First time I was told something I could enthusiastically agree with, all fucking day, so I was absolutely ready to lay back and go with that.

[...]

The worst days of my job are the days when it's my job to say no.

They really shouldn't be asking me for candy that will rot their teeth instantly, because I ain't their fuckin' daddy to be asked, and they should control themselves. But it's their job to get all the candy they can, so they ask me anyway: ask me if I'll testify that people can run three miles and arrive five miles away. Ask me, repeatedly over a period of hours, whether I'll offer my professional opinion as a geographic expert that it can be done.

What I do in that situation: Say no, repeatedly, and go have a beer as soon as I can make the asking stop. Go pose as somebody that can say yes; go find questions more fun to answer.

Paraphrasing Hunter S. Thompson: I wouldn't advocate it to anyone, but it's always worked for me.