I really love those 1980’s office instructional videos where it begins with the camera panning across a very cheap set to where somebody is busy pretending to read or work and then they look up as if pleasantly surprised and say, “Oh, hi there,” and launch into their introduction. It’s that same disingenuous urge that causes film makers of incredibly soft erotica to pan away to the surging ocean just as the lovers embrace or, much to my eleven year old confusion, to a statue of Bast which the camera then stayed focused on for about ten seconds too long before cutting away to the lovers over breakfast the next morning.
Oops. My neighbor has taken question with Pablo the Daschund’s incessant barking. What he just yelled from outside my window, “Pablo! Pablo, come here. Where are you. Pablo, come here right now. Pablo. What the fuck. Come here, right now.”
Pablo has gone quiet. That means he has either become extra wily and is now hiding in some bushes, awaiting the chance to begin barking again unmolested, or has been whisked away indoors and is no longer at liberty to comment incessantly on the unchanging street scene immediately outside his gate.