Editor’s Statement: In the haughty days of the late 1990’s, I was a rich man. Not so much in terms of conventionally measured riches, but more so in time. More specifically in fact, in what is referred to as “free-time”. I found that the term “free-time” was a bit of a misnomer, as I found myself spending thousands upon thousands of dollars during these halcyon stretches, mostly on the purchase of various and sundry types of alcohol. (The consumption of said alcohol was… free.) “Free-time” is a fragile thing. It can easily lead to making plans or discussing things of urgency or import, during which ugly circumstances, it can, almost imperceptibly mutate into “useful discourse”.

To my point, it was during the mid ‘90s that I discovered in myself a talent for taking this precious time and keeping it free, as certain things should always be. I had support, certainly. My friends Chris and James were eager advocates of the preservation of this asset which is quite essential to any aspiring bon vivant. Our joint and joyous discovery was that three sturdy men, of the correct disposition, could support up to thirteen hours of this commodity in an unbroken streak, using nothing but God-given self-determination and roughly $400 USD (for food and the afore mentioned alcohol).

I never questioned how we did it for fear that deep psychoanalysis of the phenomenon might crush its brittle metaphorical wings (I used to think of it as a butterfly on occasion, hence the metaphor reference.)

The answer to this great mystery was foisted upon us during an innocuous conversation between Chris and his soon to be wife, Eileen on the day following one of our more successful free-time preservation sessions. It seems that the third member of our group had cut ties with a medium-term lady friend in the very recent past. It is a well documented phenomenon that, as you approach your mid-thirties, any female with whom a man appears in public more than twice is assumed to be his future wife by any ancillary females in their particular social set. Eileen believed it logical to ask Chris what had been determined during the previous evening’s thirteen hour conversation pertaining to this parting of the ways. Chris remarked casually that he could not say, as the subject had not been broached. Eileen, in disbelief, reminded Chris that we had sustained a conversation for the better part of a day; if the break-up had not been mentioned, then what on Earth had we been talking about. His reply:

“I dunno… Sports?  (long pause) Jokes?”

There it was. The universal key to preserving free time, and, using the associative property of multiplication, Freedom its god-damned self.