Your (Non-) Daily (Non-) Zen

On my way to work Monday morning, heading South on 4th Street from Market, I heard three men in suits be unforgivably rude to a female jogger, possibly loud enough for her to hear, and I said, out loud, “Oh, goodie, must be a stock-brokers’ or bankers’ convention in town.”

The person next to me said, “Oracle, actually.” Which, upon reflection, wasn’t that surprising after all.