Embracing my inner philistine

My mention yesterday of some dirty Latin puns I know reminded me of an incident from when I briefly worked in the Main Stream Media.

My boss had formerly worked for New Hampshire Public Radio, and was a classical-music buff to boot. This gave us plenty of ammunition to give him grief over.

One day, a colleague and I were discussing movies in the boss’s presence. One of us brought up “2001,” and it was just too good an opportunity to let slip by.

“Yeah, I was really impressed with the music. Kubrick commissioned a really great soundtrack. Whoever he found to write that stuff was a genius.”

We continued on in that vein for a bit, concluding with my praising Francis Ford Coppola for the piece he had done for the helicopter attack scene in “Apocalypse Now.”

Our poor boss just put his head in his hands. “De gustibus non est disputandum.” (Latin for “there’s no accounting for taste,” roughly).

There was payback, though. My colleague was Canadian. About a week later I loaned my boss a copy of The Great White North Album, without warning my colleague.

He strolled into the office the next morning and was greeted with “How’s it going, eh?”

His howl of protest was answered with a “oh, take off, you hoser.”

Damn, I’ve always been an instigator…

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