All good arguments, Joe, but as I wrote this morning in “It’s Just A Dog,” justifying our distractions doesn’t alter the fact that we have too many. I get your point about someone taking care of something “important” while the game is in play. Unfortunately, I spent too many years on subways and streetcars, and the majority of texts (okay, I’m a peeper) were embarrassingly silly. One woman kept texting her boyfriend her co-ordinates, saying, “I’m now at Queen Street…ETA…8 minutes.” She did that until she got to her stop where a guy was standing on a porch waving to her. He wore an apron, Joe, and I’m sure this all had to do with him taking the soufflé out of the oven at exactly the right moment, but the two beers in his hand, and the Twister makes me suspect otherwise. I’m afraid we’re just goofy, Joe, and falling down manholes doesn’t necessarily interrupt a family emergency. It interrupts watching two dogs humping in the washroom to the “Live and Let Die” soundtrack. Not that it isn’t spectacular dexterity on the part of both dogs, but is it worth seeing how effective our sewage systems are? Or how alligators can grow in such cramped spaces?

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I did a poor imitation of Don Draper for 40 years before writing my first novel. I'm currently in the final stages of a children's book. Lucky me.

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