MISSION DISTRICT, SAN FRANCISCO — Unless you've been hiding under a rock, you know that the world's most anticipated game of all time, Halo 3, launched Monday at midnight. The New York Times wrote about it, ferchrissakes. I was forced to spend an entire evening listening to my roommate disintegrate friends and foes with the Spartan laser through our shared wall. TORTURE! I hate standing in line at launch events, so like an idiot, preordered the game through Amazon.com. It's scheduled to arrive tomorrow. All I can think about is finishing the fight. Honestly, who actually cares about tawdry Valley business matters at a time like this? And then ... then visitors arrived. And my life, unbelievably, got worse.

The doorbell rings.

Me: Thinks: Sweet! The UPS man brought Halo 3 a day early.

Standing at the door is a gaggle of old ladies.

Me: Thinks: Fuck.

Old Lady: I'm with a group of volunteers in your neighborhood...

Me: Thinks: WTF do you want!? You're not the UPS man, nor are you Master Chief.

Old Lady: Do you think that God is the cause of all suffering the world?

Me: Um. Now's not really a good time. I write for this blog ... work from home ...

Old Lady: Well, can I come back later at a better time?

Me: Only if God has sent you as his divine messenger to punish me for believing that he only exists as some sort of metaphilosophical crutch to explain the Big Bang.