Whatever Works Page #11

you. I was a square peg in a round hole,

you should pardon the metaphor.

Well, I just hope you two lucked out

and found the right person in each other.

I know I lucked out.

What about you, Boris?

As you would say in the crude

fashion ofyour generation,

I totally lucked out.

Itjust shows what meaningless

blind chance the universe is.

Everybody schemes and dreams

to meet the right person,

and I jump out a window and

land on her. And a psychic yet!

I mean, come on, talk

about the irrational heart,

not to mention I've developed

a fondness for grits.

I have a question, am I

a member of my generation?

Yes. Don'tworry. I'll explain it to you.

Hey, hey, hold on! Hold on!

The ball's about to drop!

Come on!

Ten,

nine,

eight, seven,

six, five,

four, three,

two, one!

Happy newyear!

I happen to hate NewYear's celebrations.

Everybody desperate to have fun.

Trying to celebrate in

some pathetic little way.

Celebrate what? A step

closer to the grave?

That's why I can't say enough times,

whatever love you can get and give,

whatever happiness you

can filch or provide,

every temporary measure

of grace, whateverworks.

And don't kid yourself, it's by no

means all up to your own human ingenuity.

A bigger part ofyour existence

is luck than you'd like to admit.

Christ, you know the odds

ofyour father's one sperm

from the billions, finding

the single egg that made you?

Don't think about it,

you'll have a panic attack.

Boris, what are you

doing? Who you talking to?

What? There's people

out there watching us.

- They're out there?

- Yeah, yeah, they're watching. What?

- Please, Boris...

- You know...

Well, there was when we started.

I don't know how many are left.

Does anybody see anybody out there?

- Out there? No!

- No!

- Boris!

- No!

See? I'm the only one who

sees the whole picture.

That's what they mean by genius.

Come on. Happy newyear, Boris.

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