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.

And that pretty much ended the conversation. Although I suppose I'd invite the whole flock in for a cup of tea if she returned bearing Halo 3.