Mutually Assured Destruction

Goldberg started his first week at CCIT, and now my super-cool facade at work is at risk of being dissolved.

For two years I've managed to successfully maintain that image of the cool chick who listens to Black Flag and the Misfits, and knows the words to a sufficiently impressive quantity of Ramones songs. My Tom Lehrer fandom threatened to put an end to it, once it became public, but that was just dismissed as a peculiar fascination with yet another out-of-the-mainstream entertainment figure. And the coolest people have plenty of those, you know.

Now, Goldberg stands to destroy all that, because he knows about my secret affinity for Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals and Russian pop from the 1980s (the other 15 gigs on the iPod that didn't get copied to Jukebox) as well as an endless series of not at all cool anecdotes about me. And no amount of skinny black skirts, trendy dark-rimmed glasses, and off-shoot "oh I'm just having an espresso for lunch" comments is going to be sufficient, should he choose to display his knowledge in a public manner.

However, the only comforting thought in all this is that for every "that time freshman year" story that he can tell about me, I can tell five more about him. I think this is pretty much what Kennedy and Kruschev had going for them in the sixties.

Just so long as nobody gains second strike capability.